[It seemed that they had a similar way of coping on some fronts, but he was willing to expend a lot of his troubled emotions training and fighting. However, he knew exactly what she meant, and he reached out to give her a quick and gentle shove on the shoulder.] Someday you're going to have to deal with it, or you're going to explode like a volcano, and if you have super-duper powers, a lot of people will get hurt when you do. [He gave her a secretive smile.] I beat the shit out of punching bags and lift more weight than I should.
[He shrugged his shoulders because he had no idea how people who had clearly been dead came back. It made sense that if the Natha could keep so many alive in stasis and release them whenever they wanted then bringing back the dead should be part and parcel, right?
Though the suggestion of travelling to Wyver wasn't a bad one, and not just for a strength in numbers aspect. She was pleasant company, one of the few familiar faces that he had where his face didn't automatically earn suspicion or revulsion.] I suppose you wouldn't be so bad of company, assuming that this blizzard doesn't kill us both first, that is. [Because, if anything, the storm beyond the cave was momentarily strengthening.] This place is actually what the Middle Ages feels like but with magic.
[Rumlow knew exactly how that felt; he trained a lot of the green-horns that came his way and while they were highly trained when they came to him, he still used years of experience against the little brats. Sometimes making them literally scream for mercy was a great way to assert his dominance but also knock them down a peg or two so they were willing to follow his command. Sparring was about the body, about technique and about reflexes. He had to think, but he also had to be quick on his feet.] I know how that feels. There's nothing quite like skill against skill.
[Well okay, she was still a keeper. He reached out to playfully knock his knuckles gently to her jaw.] I think that someone was me, or that fat guy sitting next to us at the game I took you to. Sorry to say though, but no Yanks here.
no subject
[He shrugged his shoulders because he had no idea how people who had clearly been dead came back. It made sense that if the Natha could keep so many alive in stasis and release them whenever they wanted then bringing back the dead should be part and parcel, right?
Though the suggestion of travelling to Wyver wasn't a bad one, and not just for a strength in numbers aspect. She was pleasant company, one of the few familiar faces that he had where his face didn't automatically earn suspicion or revulsion.] I suppose you wouldn't be so bad of company, assuming that this blizzard doesn't kill us both first, that is. [Because, if anything, the storm beyond the cave was momentarily strengthening.] This place is actually what the Middle Ages feels like but with magic.
[Rumlow knew exactly how that felt; he trained a lot of the green-horns that came his way and while they were highly trained when they came to him, he still used years of experience against the little brats. Sometimes making them literally scream for mercy was a great way to assert his dominance but also knock them down a peg or two so they were willing to follow his command. Sparring was about the body, about technique and about reflexes. He had to think, but he also had to be quick on his feet.] I know how that feels. There's nothing quite like skill against skill.
[Well okay, she was still a keeper. He reached out to playfully knock his knuckles gently to her jaw.] I think that someone was me, or that fat guy sitting next to us at the game I took you to. Sorry to say though, but no Yanks here.