Crap, crap, crap-- [High-pitched and panicked under the cover of his own hands as he curls down protectively where he's pressed. No friggin' restraints, no braces against the jolting rattle of the bandit technical as it rolls and jumps its way out to freedom. Relative freedom, anyway. Rhys feels like his brain's going to rattle out of its skull and into a shard of glass before they're in the clear, but at this point it's preferable to the opposite.
And once they've peeled out into the dusky openness of the Dust, a case of ammo skids out from its hiding place under the seat to nest against his boot; he's not thinking when he grabs hold of it and makes a few fumbling attempts to load it into the chamber of Fiona's abandoned SMG. Thinking even less when he turns to aim out the broken back windows at the nearest truck that's rapidly closing in.]
no subject
And once they've peeled out into the dusky openness of the Dust, a case of ammo skids out from its hiding place under the seat to nest against his boot; he's not thinking when he grabs hold of it and makes a few fumbling attempts to load it into the chamber of Fiona's abandoned SMG. Thinking even less when he turns to aim out the broken back windows at the nearest truck that's rapidly closing in.]
Keep it steady!