[ there's a difference evan can sense, but not enough for him to be able to pinpoint what it is. all he knows is that david's here, fucking around when he shouldn't be. when he said he wasn't going to.
evan puts a foot on the threshold, nearly crossing it. nearly getting into the space. the door might not lock, but there's ways to block it, and the traps in the long mine shaft leading up to it are reset - he saw to that on the way down. ]
It matters to me.
[ the light from the forge makes odd shadows in the workshop, and on his mask. on david, too, making the anger look warped and distorted on his face. it glints off the screwdriver, but not the machete, which is still in the shadows of the hall. ]
[ david works his jaw, takes a step forward and then back again on the other foot. pure, restless enery. he's not sure what to do here really, eventually just heaving a sigh. ]
Came out 'cause you pissed me off. [ shrug ] Figured I'd make myself useful since you weren't here.
[ he's got some of the most useful shit in the fog here, they both know that. ]
[ it's not a good enough answer, and that's made obvious by the way evan doesn't move at all. ]
What was your plan if I was here?
[ fight him? kill him? as fucking if. he wants so badly to smash david's skull into the nearest workbench or slam him facefirst into the glowing coals in the forge. something to let the rage out and make him pay. ]
[ he wonders, in the moment, if the screwdriver could pierce through the mask and trapper's skull in one go? if he could put enough force behind it to drive it through. if he moved quick and sudden enough, he could probably close most of that distance before trapper reacts. ]
[ david doesn't do that, but his grip tightens around the screwdriver's handle. ]
Show you a death wish, you miserable fuckin' cunt. [ if trapper won't move, that's fine. david doesn't close the distance, but he takes a couple steps in that direction, lip curled in the a sneer. ]
[ evan doesn't move. he's furious, but he knows how to be patient, and david's pushing him dangerously close to the other side of fury. it's hard to get him there because of how easy straightforward violence is.
but david's getting there too, it looks like, and the part of his brain that's managed to hold onto sense in this place thinks: why? why be so angry about the idea of a death wish? so many of them have one. he's seen survivors bait him into killing them, in trials and outside them. trying to get him angry enough to put them out of their misery. or just trying to one-up him without realizing what a one-track road that was to death.
but david knows what dying here does to a person, doesn't he? he said as much before. i know how shit goes for me here. maybe that bothers him more than he says. ]
Try it.
[ in the shadows, his own fingers curl tighter around the handle of his cleaver. ]
[ there's no hesitation, david grabs a tool off the nearest worktop and throws it in a quick, fluid motion. for all the shit the fog's taken from him, his aim is still as good as it was back in his rugby days. it doesn't have to hit hard, nor does he expect it to, just has to be something trapper has to react to or have it smash him in the... mask. ]
[ david rushes him in the aftermath, leaving as little time between the thrown tool and the impact of his own body as he charges trapper shoulder-first. he's not so ridiculous as to think he can just push past the man, but he can put him off balance if he times it right. ]
[ the charge he was expecting; the thrown tool, not so much.
it catches him off guard enough that he steps back when it hits him, and then david follows up right behind it and nearly, nearly knocks evan flat on his back. he stumbles, managing to stop himself from sliding too far and falling - or hitting the trap not that much further down the hall - but in the process he drops the cleaver.
that would be worse if it didn't free up both hands to fight back with. he doesn't want to cut david up and kill him - that'd be too fast.
evan tries to get an arm around david's back before he can get away and hold him in place, shoulder at his chest, to let loose with a series of hits against david's kidneys with his other fist. ]
[ david weathers the blows, grits his teeth through the pain-- it should knock his ass down, but maybe it's the anger that keeps him up. internally frustrated that he felt the bastard almost tip over, but it wasn't enough. how it always fucking goes with this asshole, never quite enough to tip the odds. ]
[ he's been guilty of holding on to shit for too long before, waiting for the right moment, not this time. he snarls, shoves his shoulder harder against trapper's chest so he has the room to raise his other arm and try to jam the screwdriver into trapper's thigh. doing his best to keep hold of it so he can really make it hurt. ]
[ there's enough strength behind that stab to make sure the screwdriver goes deep into his thigh, going through the leather waders, the burned and broken skin, and straight into the muscles. pain erupts, and evan snarls, his grip around david tightening.
but the problem with a stab to the thigh is that even something limited like that makes standing an agony, especially given that david's still holding onto it, which in turn causes every shift a movement to drag the damn thing around. he tries to break david's ribs with a squeeze, gives up almost immediately, and lets go enough to grab him by the hair and try to drag him up and back.
he knew the bastard had it, and he still fell for this. stupid. infuriatingly stupid. he needs to get david back in the workshop so he can crush his fucking skull. ]
[ between the pain in his back and the hand pulling his hair, david's powerless in the moment to do anything but go with it with a sharp hiss. he lets go of the screwdriver, hands flying up to grab trapper's arm-- doesn't think he can get him to let go in this position, but maybe he can pull it toward himself, relieve that tension a little. ]
[ he can't afford to let trapper get a foothold on a real advantage here, david knows that. it's the struggle he keeps coming up against most, the second trapper gets that control he becomes an oppressive wall that's almost impossible to fight against. ]
[ david growls, holding tight onto that arm because however this goes it's probably going to hurt both of them a lot and he wants to minimise what he can for himself when he kicks out at that same thigh he just stabbed. ]
[ david's got one hell of a grip, and even if evan can ignore that, he can't ignore the kick that lands right underneath the screwdriver where it's still buried in his leg.
he makes a noise somewhere between human and animal, something half rage and half pain, and tries to hurl david into the wall of the mine. it means he lets go, staggers back, reaches for the screwdriver to pull it out even if the damage has already been done - regardless of whether david lets go of his arm or not.
either way, it's down to a brawl again, in a cramped space where neither one of them can run - not that either of them would. ]
[ david does let go, which might be for the best, doesn't want to be pulling this behemoth of a man with him when he's thrown. it's hard to brace himself for it, david hits the wall and lands in a heap on the ground, a yell followed by a weak groan as david scrambles to push himself back to his feet. ]
[ the most time david's willing to spend on licking his wounds is a sharp breath through his nose and a quick shake of his head as if that's enough to shake off the pain, but it's gonna have to be. ]
[ david lowers his stance and rushes forward, hurling himself at trapper in a rugby tackle. ]
[ evan has about enough time to drop the screwdriver and look up, and that's when david charges him.
he manages, again, to catch him just before he can bowl him over, but the hit's hard enough that he slides back. this time there's enough uneven ground that he trips and hits the ground on his back hard. even he doesn't realize just how narrowly he's missed landing headfirst in a nearby trap.
but even on the ground he's not about to let david get the upper hand, and immediately swings a punch at him. all he knows is that he has to get up, or get david on the ground instead. there's only so much leverage he has here. ]
[ he almost can't believe he got the man off his feet, but david doesn't waste time on that thought. he scrambles, recognising the opportunity for the rarity it is, to crawl up and straddle trapper's chest. he'd love to be able pin his arms with his knees, and that punch is a prime example why, it staggers him a moment but he refuses to give this up. ]
[ david leans forward, plants one hand down on trapper's throat and the other he uses to try and push his mask off and toss it aside so he can punch this guy in the face. again and again, alternating hands, the idea of course being to just beat this man until either he's a bloody mess or something stops him. ]
[ despite his efforts, david gets the mask off. evan glowers at him for a half second before the punches start to rain down.
it's exactly what he would do in this situation. when the other guy's down, don't give him any time to recover. just make sure he doesn't have time to focus. can't get back up. but david didn't have the chance to pin down his hands, and even with his focus being shattered with every hit, there's enough violent instinct in him to know how to react without his brain really getting involved.
without being able to see, his hands come up. one to deliver a punch to david's gut, the other to snatch at his throat and try to choke him out. his fingers scrabble at whatever he can reach, trying to find the neck without knowing exactly where it is. ]
[ so singularly focused on raining down those hits on trapper's face, david really doesn't expect the hit to the gut. it makes him double over, both from the surprise and the pain, leaves him totally unprepared for the follow-up hand looking for his neck. panic blooming when he feels fingers at his face because that is, in many ways, a hell of a lot worse. ]
[ he lets go of trapper's throat to grab his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, hoping he can push it down enough to pin like he should've in the fucking first place. now it's a nightmare, no idea how he's gonna get both of those hands down, even as he reaches blindly for the one that punched him. with a normal person it'd be easy — grab both wrists and push them down so he can put his knees on them, but with this asshole, david's not so certain. ]
[ nothing ventured though, he plants his knees in the dirt either side of trapper so he's at least a bit more stable in the moment. ]
[ thought is mostly gone at this point, other than wanting david dead. there's blood in his eyes, making it hard to see, so his hand never quite finds david's throat. he can feel his jaw, his mouth, then the softer spot under the chin, and then there's a hand at his wrist, dragging back, dragging down.
hands at both wrists, actually. evan can tell david's trying to get him pinned, on some instinctual level. can feel him getting more stable. more anchored. it's unacceptable. he's not going to be beaten into a pulp by anyone, except -
he bucks hard, trying to throw david off-balance, trying to throw him off completely, hurling his fists at david's face and ribs as best he can with the hands trying to stop him. anything to stop him getting him really pinned. anything to get him off. ]
[ yeah, he's not strong enough to pin both of trapper's hands, not like this. david's stuck in that awkward place, knowing he can't overpower trapper, but if he lets go then that gives him every opportunity to really get david. ]
[ especially when trapper bucks, when his fists come swinging. it throws david's balance and he rears back, holding as tight as he can to the other man's wrists, pushing back against him but really doing much else. ]
[ but david refuses to relent. fuck that and fuck him. puts all his weight into it as he leans forward, against those swinging arms, using everything he's got to try and get them pinned down. he'll figure out what comes next, how to keep him there if he can just get that advantage solidly under him first. ]
[ he should be stronger than david. a lot stronger. and he is, he knows, but there's two things in the way here: he's never at his best after a trial, and david's got extra strength thanks to the rage powering him right now.
so does evan, to be fair. but in the time he's been in the fog, he's learned that cornering a rat too often eventually makes it turn and fight, and when it's got nothing left to lose it gets a freedom even he'll never understand. in this case, david has literally nothing else to cost him here except his life, and there's not much evan can do to him that hasn't already been done a hundred times over.
slowly, despite everything, david gets his arms pinned against the dirt. that doesn't mean evan's totally down, and even the slightest change in pressure means he's going to be up and swinging again immediately. but in that moment, everything goes still - not stopped, just tense, rigid, ready to explode. and evan glares up at him, blood on his face, teeth grit, waiting to strike. ]
[ it feels like holding down the pin of a grenade. ]
[ like this, little more space between them than enough for their breath to mingle, just enough david can clearly see the tension and anger on evan's face and it comes with a deep and uncomfortable awareness of just how fucking volatile this situation is. he can't hold trapper down forever, and the moment that he loses even a little of that pressure is going to be explosive. ]
[ he's not afraid to die, especially not to a man whose rage tends to override any capacity for real cruelty, but losing like this would be crushing. getting this close to a win that actually feels like one and then having it ripped away because he didn't pin the bastard's hands? that shouldn't be all it takes to undo him. it shouldn't be so fucking easy to beat him, not for anyone. ]
[ his grip tightens around evan's wrists, a snarl rumbling in his throat as he stares back, but david doesn't move. truthfully he doesn't really know what to do here except gather himself, to choose to let go so it's not a surprise when trapper's up again, when things turn against him. ]
[ even through the rage, david's expression doesn't do a great job concealing the way all this goes through his head. the way he ends up with "what now?" as the only thing he can think when he looks at the man below him. ]
reasonably he understands why: david has to let go to hit him, and as soon as he lets go evan's going to do everything in his power to crush his skull. it leaves them both stuck, wanting to kill with no way to do so. even a headbutt isn't going to get them far, because one or the other will be stunned and leave the other with an opening, if it doesn't stun them both.
but it doesn't improve matters at all, and the rage keeps roaring, burning through him, making his fingers curl into fists as he strains against david's grip. he can see the uncertainty flicker across david's face. the fact that even he's realized they're at a stalemate. evan wants to snarl something at him, piss him off again, make him lift a hand in rage to give him a chance to fight back. ]
What's your next move, maggot?
[ it's a growl, barely human. the part of him that still thinks is preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of this before david has no other choice than to let him up. ]
[ if he times it right, maybe. doesn't give in to the blood rushing in his ears, the way that anger and bloodlust is burning through him, maybe he can get away without being obliterated the instant he lets up. how the fuck he'd turn things back around after that is another question, but one thing at a time. this is already pushing the limits on how much he can really think right now. ]
[ the question doesn't help, because they both know he has no fucking clue what to do next. david's next move right now is 'keep stalling until he has an idea.' ]
Maybe I just wanted to hold you.
[ it lacks the usual sharp-edged playfulness david's comments usually have when he's trying to rile somebody up, an instant response more for the fact that silence in this moment feels like admitting weakness than anything else. ]
[ under other circumstances, that might be funny. as it is, evan's mouth twists in a snarl, bares his teeth, and he surges against the pressure holding him down. a threat. an attempt. it holds, but it can't forever. ]
Wrong move.
[ he's tense. ready to strike, roll, do anything. he almost wants david to attack first just so something happens. he's only a man for stillness when he's on the hunt; a fight should be constant movement, constant fire. not whatever the hell this is. ]
[ it's kind of a shame, under different circumstances that response would be deeply satisfying, even now there's a part of him that wants to laugh. trapper's inability to handle inertia is really becoming one of david's favourite buttons to hammer. ]
[ in the moment though, david's focus is on how to put enough distance between them in the seconds after he lets go. very careful about the way he shifts his weight where he's straddling trapper, rolling from his knees to his toes so he's ready to spring up, back. wherever. ]
[ what's frustrating is the safest direction is back toward the workshop, but he doesn't have time to try and think about where else to go. he rolls to the side and up onto his feet, bracing himself for the attack he knows is coming. ]
[ the instant the pressure lessens, evan's surging up, like every inch of him was electrified into action. like he's raising from the dead, furious and looking for revenge - and except for being dead, that's not too far off from right.
he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
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evan puts a foot on the threshold, nearly crossing it. nearly getting into the space. the door might not lock, but there's ways to block it, and the traps in the long mine shaft leading up to it are reset - he saw to that on the way down. ]
It matters to me.
[ the light from the forge makes odd shadows in the workshop, and on his mask. on david, too, making the anger look warped and distorted on his face. it glints off the screwdriver, but not the machete, which is still in the shadows of the hall. ]
Why the fuck are you here.
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Came out 'cause you pissed me off. [ shrug ] Figured I'd make myself useful since you weren't here.
[ he's got some of the most useful shit in the fog here, they both know that. ]
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What was your plan if I was here?
[ fight him? kill him? as fucking if. he wants so badly to smash david's skull into the nearest workbench or slam him facefirst into the glowing coals in the forge. something to let the rage out and make him pay. ]
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[ he wonders, in the moment, if the screwdriver could pierce through the mask and trapper's skull in one go? if he could put enough force behind it to drive it through. if he moved quick and sudden enough, he could probably close most of that distance before trapper reacts. ]
[ david doesn't do that, but his grip tightens around the screwdriver's handle. ]
Show you a death wish, you miserable fuckin' cunt. [ if trapper won't move, that's fine. david doesn't close the distance, but he takes a couple steps in that direction, lip curled in the a sneer. ]
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but david's getting there too, it looks like, and the part of his brain that's managed to hold onto sense in this place thinks: why? why be so angry about the idea of a death wish? so many of them have one. he's seen survivors bait him into killing them, in trials and outside them. trying to get him angry enough to put them out of their misery. or just trying to one-up him without realizing what a one-track road that was to death.
but david knows what dying here does to a person, doesn't he? he said as much before. i know how shit goes for me here. maybe that bothers him more than he says. ]
Try it.
[ in the shadows, his own fingers curl tighter around the handle of his cleaver. ]
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[ david rushes him in the aftermath, leaving as little time between the thrown tool and the impact of his own body as he charges trapper shoulder-first. he's not so ridiculous as to think he can just push past the man, but he can put him off balance if he times it right. ]
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it catches him off guard enough that he steps back when it hits him, and then david follows up right behind it and nearly, nearly knocks evan flat on his back. he stumbles, managing to stop himself from sliding too far and falling - or hitting the trap not that much further down the hall - but in the process he drops the cleaver.
that would be worse if it didn't free up both hands to fight back with. he doesn't want to cut david up and kill him - that'd be too fast.
evan tries to get an arm around david's back before he can get away and hold him in place, shoulder at his chest, to let loose with a series of hits against david's kidneys with his other fist. ]
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[ he's been guilty of holding on to shit for too long before, waiting for the right moment, not this time. he snarls, shoves his shoulder harder against trapper's chest so he has the room to raise his other arm and try to jam the screwdriver into trapper's thigh. doing his best to keep hold of it so he can really make it hurt. ]
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but the problem with a stab to the thigh is that even something limited like that makes standing an agony, especially given that david's still holding onto it, which in turn causes every shift a movement to drag the damn thing around. he tries to break david's ribs with a squeeze, gives up almost immediately, and lets go enough to grab him by the hair and try to drag him up and back.
he knew the bastard had it, and he still fell for this. stupid. infuriatingly stupid. he needs to get david back in the workshop so he can crush his fucking skull. ]
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[ he can't afford to let trapper get a foothold on a real advantage here, david knows that. it's the struggle he keeps coming up against most, the second trapper gets that control he becomes an oppressive wall that's almost impossible to fight against. ]
[ david growls, holding tight onto that arm because however this goes it's probably going to hurt both of them a lot and he wants to minimise what he can for himself when he kicks out at that same thigh he just stabbed. ]
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he makes a noise somewhere between human and animal, something half rage and half pain, and tries to hurl david into the wall of the mine. it means he lets go, staggers back, reaches for the screwdriver to pull it out even if the damage has already been done - regardless of whether david lets go of his arm or not.
either way, it's down to a brawl again, in a cramped space where neither one of them can run - not that either of them would. ]
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[ the most time david's willing to spend on licking his wounds is a sharp breath through his nose and a quick shake of his head as if that's enough to shake off the pain, but it's gonna have to be. ]
[ david lowers his stance and rushes forward, hurling himself at trapper in a rugby tackle. ]
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he manages, again, to catch him just before he can bowl him over, but the hit's hard enough that he slides back. this time there's enough uneven ground that he trips and hits the ground on his back hard. even he doesn't realize just how narrowly he's missed landing headfirst in a nearby trap.
but even on the ground he's not about to let david get the upper hand, and immediately swings a punch at him. all he knows is that he has to get up, or get david on the ground instead. there's only so much leverage he has here. ]
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[ david leans forward, plants one hand down on trapper's throat and the other he uses to try and push his mask off and toss it aside so he can punch this guy in the face. again and again, alternating hands, the idea of course being to just beat this man until either he's a bloody mess or something stops him. ]
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it's exactly what he would do in this situation. when the other guy's down, don't give him any time to recover. just make sure he doesn't have time to focus. can't get back up. but david didn't have the chance to pin down his hands, and even with his focus being shattered with every hit, there's enough violent instinct in him to know how to react without his brain really getting involved.
without being able to see, his hands come up. one to deliver a punch to david's gut, the other to snatch at his throat and try to choke him out. his fingers scrabble at whatever he can reach, trying to find the neck without knowing exactly where it is. ]
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[ he lets go of trapper's throat to grab his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, hoping he can push it down enough to pin like he should've in the fucking first place. now it's a nightmare, no idea how he's gonna get both of those hands down, even as he reaches blindly for the one that punched him. with a normal person it'd be easy — grab both wrists and push them down so he can put his knees on them, but with this asshole, david's not so certain. ]
[ nothing ventured though, he plants his knees in the dirt either side of trapper so he's at least a bit more stable in the moment. ]
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hands at both wrists, actually. evan can tell david's trying to get him pinned, on some instinctual level. can feel him getting more stable. more anchored. it's unacceptable. he's not going to be beaten into a pulp by anyone, except -
he bucks hard, trying to throw david off-balance, trying to throw him off completely, hurling his fists at david's face and ribs as best he can with the hands trying to stop him. anything to stop him getting him really pinned. anything to get him off. ]
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[ especially when trapper bucks, when his fists come swinging. it throws david's balance and he rears back, holding as tight as he can to the other man's wrists, pushing back against him but really doing much else. ]
[ but david refuses to relent. fuck that and fuck him. puts all his weight into it as he leans forward, against those swinging arms, using everything he's got to try and get them pinned down. he'll figure out what comes next, how to keep him there if he can just get that advantage solidly under him first. ]
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so does evan, to be fair. but in the time he's been in the fog, he's learned that cornering a rat too often eventually makes it turn and fight, and when it's got nothing left to lose it gets a freedom even he'll never understand. in this case, david has literally nothing else to cost him here except his life, and there's not much evan can do to him that hasn't already been done a hundred times over.
slowly, despite everything, david gets his arms pinned against the dirt. that doesn't mean evan's totally down, and even the slightest change in pressure means he's going to be up and swinging again immediately. but in that moment, everything goes still - not stopped, just tense, rigid, ready to explode. and evan glares up at him, blood on his face, teeth grit, waiting to strike. ]
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[ like this, little more space between them than enough for their breath to mingle, just enough david can clearly see the tension and anger on evan's face and it comes with a deep and uncomfortable awareness of just how fucking volatile this situation is. he can't hold trapper down forever, and the moment that he loses even a little of that pressure is going to be explosive. ]
[ he's not afraid to die, especially not to a man whose rage tends to override any capacity for real cruelty, but losing like this would be crushing. getting this close to a win that actually feels like one and then having it ripped away because he didn't pin the bastard's hands? that shouldn't be all it takes to undo him. it shouldn't be so fucking easy to beat him, not for anyone. ]
[ his grip tightens around evan's wrists, a snarl rumbling in his throat as he stares back, but david doesn't move. truthfully he doesn't really know what to do here except gather himself, to choose to let go so it's not a surprise when trapper's up again, when things turn against him. ]
[ even through the rage, david's expression doesn't do a great job concealing the way all this goes through his head. the way he ends up with "what now?" as the only thing he can think when he looks at the man below him. ]
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reasonably he understands why: david has to let go to hit him, and as soon as he lets go evan's going to do everything in his power to crush his skull. it leaves them both stuck, wanting to kill with no way to do so. even a headbutt isn't going to get them far, because one or the other will be stunned and leave the other with an opening, if it doesn't stun them both.
but it doesn't improve matters at all, and the rage keeps roaring, burning through him, making his fingers curl into fists as he strains against david's grip. he can see the uncertainty flicker across david's face. the fact that even he's realized they're at a stalemate. evan wants to snarl something at him, piss him off again, make him lift a hand in rage to give him a chance to fight back. ]
What's your next move, maggot?
[ it's a growl, barely human. the part of him that still thinks is preoccupied with figuring out how to get out of this before david has no other choice than to let him up. ]
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[ the question doesn't help, because they both know he has no fucking clue what to do next. david's next move right now is 'keep stalling until he has an idea.' ]
Maybe I just wanted to hold you.
[ it lacks the usual sharp-edged playfulness david's comments usually have when he's trying to rile somebody up, an instant response more for the fact that silence in this moment feels like admitting weakness than anything else. ]
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Wrong move.
[ he's tense. ready to strike, roll, do anything. he almost wants david to attack first just so something happens. he's only a man for stillness when he's on the hunt; a fight should be constant movement, constant fire. not whatever the hell this is. ]
Let go now, and I'll make it quick.
[ but it won't be painless, he doesn't add. ]
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[ in the moment though, david's focus is on how to put enough distance between them in the seconds after he lets go. very careful about the way he shifts his weight where he's straddling trapper, rolling from his knees to his toes so he's ready to spring up, back. wherever. ]
[ what's frustrating is the safest direction is back toward the workshop, but he doesn't have time to try and think about where else to go. he rolls to the side and up onto his feet, bracing himself for the attack he knows is coming. ]
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he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
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