[There's an itch to being in the centre of a crowd like this. The promise of a fight pulls on pieces of Murphy that still sit close to the surface, no matter how their edges have been dulled down by experience: the rush of adrenaline and vented anger, the high of violence. But anxiety chews fitfully at the back of his mind as well. His time being the centre of attention has rarely gone well.
But this isn't for him. It's for Seviilia, a fact that's far easier to focus on once she arrives. Outwardly, he projects only calm; a casual kind of confidence. He remembers his time with the grounders, every arrogant, privileged asshole he'd ever encountered on The Ark. He knows what he needs to channel here.]
My guard. [Simply, answering two requests for explanation in one.] She fights for me.
[He keeps his tone steady, certain, as though this is just the accepted, normal way things are done. Act like there's nothing to question and you won't be questioned.]
no subject
But this isn't for him. It's for Seviilia, a fact that's far easier to focus on once she arrives. Outwardly, he projects only calm; a casual kind of confidence. He remembers his time with the grounders, every arrogant, privileged asshole he'd ever encountered on The Ark. He knows what he needs to channel here.]
My guard. [Simply, answering two requests for explanation in one.] She fights for me.
[He keeps his tone steady, certain, as though this is just the accepted, normal way things are done. Act like there's nothing to question and you won't be questioned.]