❝ ... get 𝘈𝘞𝘈𝘠 ! ❞ shouted with a cracking voice, hand extended behind him. ❝ i'll - .. * or i'll throw it out from here ; in —— .. in the pond down there ! ❞
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❝ liar ! ❞ he accuses, stepping backwards, betraying their approach. ❝ you're just saying this 'cause you wanna take me in ... wha'd you need the wallet for, anyway ?! you'll di͟e out there ! ❞
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❝ you're one of 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 .. right ? the wings of freedom ? ❞ uttered scornfully, the insigna on their wallet stressed with a violent gesture. his right foot slips, causing his knee to slam against the roof's shingles, luckily keeping body over top.
❝ give it up ! ❞ clumsily losing footing, he trudges a few steps once officially on the roof. the pace picks up as soon as he corrects it, leaping from one roof to another confidently 'pon closing on the edge each time. he takes a horizontal trajectory.
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❝ that just means it's worth 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 ! ❞ setting a foot on one of the houses' window sill, he climbs above the opening, and expertly mounts the remainder of the three stories building by using the frames of the doorway and the balcony as steps.
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the cheap fabric of his shirt stretches at the shoulder when 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 by the hand firm around his sleeved arm. it's all that is needed for him to begin tugging fiercely against it, having done this a countless times already to know better than stall when he's alone.
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❝ 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹 ! ❞ he cries aloud, gradually attracting a curious audience by it, which he rushes into after bi͟t͟i͟ng hange's hand and getting himself successfully liberated. the wallet gets tucked under baggy top and secured by waistband.
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𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁 for @VIERAUGENS .
on the day hange and bertholdt had come to mitras — the capitol — to ensure that their inmate wouldn't visit Trost ; specifically on their way out of the apartment, a little mass bumped onto the cloaked body of the commander.
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𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁 for @VIERAUGENS .
on the day hange and bertholdt had come to mitras — the capitol — to ensure that their inmate wouldn't visit Trost ; specifically on their way out of the apartment, a little mass bumped onto the cloaked body of the commander.
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the sharp glare from the 3'5 boy falters 'pon landing on the different figure. sober, and scarred .. it was not one of the military police drunkards that he looted, it seemed. none of the snobs had any cicatrix given their history of pure uselessness, lest it was a bar fight's.