[ Fenris would not at all qualify this situation as 'fun'. He watches Giovanni work with an impassive expression on his face, even as his gut roils, even as his skin burns from the flaring circuitry.
A man lunges at him, gun drawn, and Fenris reacts swiftly--in one fluid movement, he grabs his attacker by the wrist, crushing the delicate bones with such force that he can't help but drop his weapon. As the gun clatters to the filthy, blood-and-grime soaked ground, Fenris throws the man down. He doesn't kill his attacker, but he does slam the sharp edge of his elbow into the man's ribcage, hard enough that the man coughs blood. A hot, red splatter coats Fenris's bare arm, and he stares across the fray at Giovanni, his lip curling. ]
We should not enjoy this.
[ And he doesn't. He tells himself so, anyway, even as the man's bones buckle under the pressure of Fenris's weight, even as a satisfying crack fills his sharp ears. ]
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A man lunges at him, gun drawn, and Fenris reacts swiftly--in one fluid movement, he grabs his attacker by the wrist, crushing the delicate bones with such force that he can't help but drop his weapon. As the gun clatters to the filthy, blood-and-grime soaked ground, Fenris throws the man down. He doesn't kill his attacker, but he does slam the sharp edge of his elbow into the man's ribcage, hard enough that the man coughs blood. A hot, red splatter coats Fenris's bare arm, and he stares across the fray at Giovanni, his lip curling. ]
We should not enjoy this.
[ And he doesn't. He tells himself so, anyway, even as the man's bones buckle under the pressure of Fenris's weight, even as a satisfying crack fills his sharp ears. ]