[ Before anything else, the sight of the sword triggers something in him. A memory, a hallucination--he still can't tell the difference. Genji's katana warps in Fenris's vision, becoming broader, thicker. A greatsword crafted of dark, dull iron. Fenris, his grip still tight on the rioter's neck, blinks hard. The afterimage fades, leaving only the stranger and his threats. Leaving only the cold bite of the blade, pressed careful and firm against his skin. ]
This man was inciting.
[ He's following orders. He has to. He has no choice--or so he believes.
Even so, his grip relaxes. Genji had crept up on him with swift, silent precision, and Fenris is not a fool. He won't sacrifice his life for nothing, even as his gut roils with anger at the surprise attack--and at the glow of hackmods, bright beneath Genji's clothes. ]
sounds good!
This man was inciting.
[ He's following orders. He has to. He has no choice--or so he believes.
Even so, his grip relaxes. Genji had crept up on him with swift, silent precision, and Fenris is not a fool. He won't sacrifice his life for nothing, even as his gut roils with anger at the surprise attack--and at the glow of hackmods, bright beneath Genji's clothes. ]