Not for the first time, Reno woke up feeling like shit. Whatever power that dumped him in bed in the mornings had tossed him on his stomach this time, and for good reason. His back hurt like a bitch, and, to a lesser extent, so did his leg. He didn’t need to feel the areas, either, to know that the burns had been neatly bandaged up.
Nor was he really focused on that. No, his brain was focused on the fact that there was something heavy and familiar in his hand. The pistol.
His eyes opened wider. He sat up and stared at it for a second.
Oh, hell yes.
A quick glance at the bed beside him assured him that Azel was still asleep and oblivious. Good.
He was tempted to open the chamber and see how many rounds were left, but thought better of it, and shoved it beneath a stack of clothing in the closet. Something, though, said that he didn’t have to worry about the staff finding it. They’d been in here to take care of his injuries, which meant they had to have seen the gun. Hadn’t they?
He certainly wasn’t going to complain about being in possession of the weapon, but it still didn’t sit right with him.
Dammit.
And last night...He knew Rufus was probably okay, since he'd been right on top of the man. Elena, though...he was pretty sure he’d seen Dean diving at her, but it was hard to tell. Shit. She’d better be just fine. Because—what? Otherwise it was his fault? Yeah. He had left her open to the attack for Rufus, and he hadn’t really thought about it at the time. It’d pretty much been hardwired into him to protect the President first, and everyone else second.
At least Rufus had his answer now, in regards to what would happen if it came down to it. Instinct over thought every time, and maybe that was a good thing. Better to save one than hesitate and cover neither.
Well, whatever. She was probably fine, right? He’d check on her this morning. Dean, too. The man had pretty much risked his life. Reno owed it to him to at least drop by.
There was no Dean or Elena in the cafeteria, but Rufus caught his eye. Walking over, he dumped his tray on the table.
“Morning.” He dropped into his seat, leaning forward instead of settlng back like he usually would've. His left knee was a little stiff from landing on it last night, too. “Take it you made it out okay, then?”
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Nor was he really focused on that. No, his brain was focused on the fact that there was something heavy and familiar in his hand. The pistol.
His eyes opened wider. He sat up and stared at it for a second.
Oh, hell yes.
A quick glance at the bed beside him assured him that Azel was still asleep and oblivious. Good.
He was tempted to open the chamber and see how many rounds were left, but thought better of it, and shoved it beneath a stack of clothing in the closet. Something, though, said that he didn’t have to worry about the staff finding it. They’d been in here to take care of his injuries, which meant they had to have seen the gun. Hadn’t they?
He certainly wasn’t going to complain about being in possession of the weapon, but it still didn’t sit right with him.
Dammit.
And last night...He knew Rufus was probably okay, since he'd been right on top of the man. Elena, though...he was pretty sure he’d seen Dean diving at her, but it was hard to tell. Shit. She’d better be just fine. Because—what? Otherwise it was his fault? Yeah. He had left her open to the attack for Rufus, and he hadn’t really thought about it at the time. It’d pretty much been hardwired into him to protect the President first, and everyone else second.
At least Rufus had his answer now, in regards to what would happen if it came down to it. Instinct over thought every time, and maybe that was a good thing. Better to save one than hesitate and cover neither.
Well, whatever. She was probably fine, right? He’d check on her this morning. Dean, too. The man had pretty much risked his life. Reno owed it to him to at least drop by.
There was no Dean or Elena in the cafeteria, but Rufus caught his eye. Walking over, he dumped his tray on the table.
“Morning.” He dropped into his seat, leaning forward instead of settlng back like he usually would've. His left knee was a little stiff from landing on it last night, too. “Take it you made it out okay, then?”