[The engine idles, rumbling softly beneath them. And he doesn't realize it until that moment, the fact that the knuckles he'd left wrapped around that manual steering wheel are pressed bone-white as if braced for impact; the hairs on the back of his neck standing stiffly upright.
But it pushes aside his threat, this model that looks like Connor (and yet supposedly isn't) and Gavin doesn't know what to make of it— the nauseating mix of relief and contempt and resentment that drops heavy into the pit of his stomach.
Half a minute passes in silence, (Reed tucking his handgun back into place, watching the machine settled beside him out of the corner of his eyes) before he bothers to speak up again:]
Get out of my car.
[There's no apparent anger in it. More than anything, he sounds— curious, hesitantly testing the limits of his freshly given control.]
no subject
But it pushes aside his threat, this model that looks like Connor (and yet supposedly isn't) and Gavin doesn't know what to make of it— the nauseating mix of relief and contempt and resentment that drops heavy into the pit of his stomach.
Half a minute passes in silence, (Reed tucking his handgun back into place, watching the machine settled beside him out of the corner of his eyes) before he bothers to speak up again:]
Get out of my car.
[There's no apparent anger in it. More than anything, he sounds— curious, hesitantly testing the limits of his freshly given control.]