It's the fireball flying between them that finally seems to kickstart something sharper in Murphy's eyes. The signs of clear and present danger had been there since he'd walked in the bakery, but somehow the serious threat to his mortality hadn't sunk in. He knows why. His brainbug hasn't gone off, hasn't started dragging him around like some psychic wizard on a quest, and that meant real, actual death wasn't on the horizon.
Except his brainbug had been screaming pain at the absence of the nest since he'd woken up here, and maybe couldn't be relied upon for anything useful anytime soon.
"Crap," is all he wastes breath on, and he shoves all other thoughts - brainbugs, transformations, whatever - aside. Worries were a luxury you only got to deal with after you'd survived.
He isn't as fast as he should be. The days here had been easy, and he doesn't want to think about where he'd been before, how long it might've been since the last thing he can remember. He's still a pace or two faster than the woman, but that doesn't mean he's going to leave her behind. The bathhouse is a smart idea, smarter than what he would've come up with, and she knows her way around better than he does. So when he makes it to the door he's already turning around, reaching to grab her arm and yank her inside, barely looking at the transformed baker roaring down the street behind them except to register how close - too close - she is. Then he's slamming the door shut.
(We need something to brace it, slow her down.) Second nature, to talk like this, already scanning around for anything nearby that could be heavy enough.
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Except his brainbug had been screaming pain at the absence of the nest since he'd woken up here, and maybe couldn't be relied upon for anything useful anytime soon.
"Crap," is all he wastes breath on, and he shoves all other thoughts - brainbugs, transformations, whatever - aside. Worries were a luxury you only got to deal with after you'd survived.
He isn't as fast as he should be. The days here had been easy, and he doesn't want to think about where he'd been before, how long it might've been since the last thing he can remember. He's still a pace or two faster than the woman, but that doesn't mean he's going to leave her behind. The bathhouse is a smart idea, smarter than what he would've come up with, and she knows her way around better than he does. So when he makes it to the door he's already turning around, reaching to grab her arm and yank her inside, barely looking at the transformed baker roaring down the street behind them except to register how close - too close - she is. Then he's slamming the door shut.
( We need something to brace it, slow her down. ) Second nature, to talk like this, already scanning around for anything nearby that could be heavy enough.