( Steve would love to reassure her, he would. he's been in this situation before, wanting to insist it'll be fine. that they won't be heard. that nothing will find them. that they'll be safe. just once he'd like to be able to confidently promise to someone terrified that they'd be okay. )
There's gotta be some place these things don't go. If we stay quiet and find it... ( Steve trails off, because frankly he has no idea what that place would even be. he's tried holing up in all sorts of places, it doesn't work. doesn't help, the thing that is after him (or at least seems like it has a personal bone to pick with him) just won't let up. his grip tightens slightly on his bat, because frankly? being the decider is not Steve's thing. he's usually surrounded by tiny people with better ideas, more knowledge, and at least a lot more confidence. he's good at standing between squishies and danger, not necessarily deciding what is the best plan of attack will be.
apparently, he thinks about it about .2 seconds too long, and there's a slow, slogging pad of footsteps. barely loud enough to notice, if you aren't listening for it. unfortunately, Steve has heard a lot of those footsteps in the past 12 hours, he's pretty used to it by now. and the heavy, difficult sigh — garbled and broken, like there's too much fluid or blood trapped in the lungs of something that refuses to stay down. the look on his face is indication enough that whatever is out there, is not the dogs. and not something he'd like either of them to have to face off with. )
We... we gotta go. Not this way. ( because Steve is suddenly quite sure what is outside that door. the footsteps are definitely getting closer, aren't they? ) Fuck! C'mon, c'mon c'mon. ( Steve pulls at Aerith's arm, just to get her momentum going. there's gotta be another exit to this building somewhere, right? and they gotta find it, and get through it, and be somewhere else. )
look i totally understand ðŸ˜
There's gotta be some place these things don't go. If we stay quiet and find it... ( Steve trails off, because frankly he has no idea what that place would even be. he's tried holing up in all sorts of places, it doesn't work. doesn't help, the thing that is after him (or at least seems like it has a personal bone to pick with him) just won't let up. his grip tightens slightly on his bat, because frankly? being the decider is not Steve's thing. he's usually surrounded by tiny people with better ideas, more knowledge, and at least a lot more confidence. he's good at standing between squishies and danger, not necessarily deciding what is the best plan of attack will be.
apparently, he thinks about it about .2 seconds too long, and there's a slow, slogging pad of footsteps. barely loud enough to notice, if you aren't listening for it. unfortunately, Steve has heard a lot of those footsteps in the past 12 hours, he's pretty used to it by now. and the heavy, difficult sigh — garbled and broken, like there's too much fluid or blood trapped in the lungs of something that refuses to stay down. the look on his face is indication enough that whatever is out there, is not the dogs. and not something he'd like either of them to have to face off with. )
We... we gotta go. Not this way. ( because Steve is suddenly quite sure what is outside that door. the footsteps are definitely getting closer, aren't they? ) Fuck! C'mon, c'mon c'mon. ( Steve pulls at Aerith's arm, just to get her momentum going. there's gotta be another exit to this building somewhere, right? and they gotta find it, and get through it, and be somewhere else. )