[ The noise startles Saber more than getting shot. It's a little like getting punched in the back, hard, the shunt of kinetic energy almost enough to knock her off her perch. As it is she stumbles for a moment, rights herself, pivots to pin Giovanni with a stare so loaded with threat it's a miracle he doesn't go up in flames right then and there.
The hilt (and by extension, the sword itself) at her side blinks out of view as she draws in one fluid motion - thumbing the invisibility caplet nestled in the pommel - the motion punctuated by the hiss of metal on metal; an auditory clue practically drowned in the uproar of panicked civilians trying desperately to get out of the line of fire. ]
You again. [ Saber has to raise her voice to be heard over the din; resonant with steely command. She resolutely ignores the dull ache in her left shoulder and the sensation of her shirt sticking to the wound - if it's bleeding, it's not enough to be a priority. Not yet. ] You aren't authorized to be in this sector.
[ Not without his handler, at any rate, which they both know very well.
She hops down, placing herself directly between the bulk of the crowd still striving to escape and his guns, both hands fisted at her sides. It could be seen as practically painting a bullseye on her chest, of course, if he doesn't look too closely at her right hand, curled loosely around something that distorts the fingers around it ever so slightly.
"Self-defense" will be acceptable excuse for bloodying his nose a little when her superiors want an explanation. He doesn't need two legs and two arms, right? ]
no subject
As it is she stumbles for a moment, rights herself, pivots to pin Giovanni with a stare so loaded with threat it's a miracle he doesn't go up in flames right then and there.
The hilt (and by extension, the sword itself) at her side blinks out of view as she draws in one fluid motion - thumbing the invisibility caplet nestled in the pommel - the motion punctuated by the hiss of metal on metal; an auditory clue practically drowned in the uproar of panicked civilians trying desperately to get out of the line of fire. ]
You again. [ Saber has to raise her voice to be heard over the din; resonant with steely command. She resolutely ignores the dull ache in her left shoulder and the sensation of her shirt sticking to the wound - if it's bleeding, it's not enough to be a priority. Not yet. ] You aren't authorized to be in this sector.
[ Not without his handler, at any rate, which they both know very well.
She hops down, placing herself directly between the bulk of the crowd still striving to escape and his guns, both hands fisted at her sides. It could be seen as practically painting a bullseye on her chest, of course, if he doesn't look too closely at her right hand, curled loosely around something that distorts the fingers around it ever so slightly.
"Self-defense" will be acceptable excuse for bloodying his nose a little when her superiors want an explanation. He doesn't need two legs and two arms, right? ]