The arms are raising. Good, good. Lalo is pleased, believing this might be easier than he anticipated. Perhaps the detective is not as far gone as he'd thought.
Then it happens. The kick connects unequivocally. Pain shoots through his leg, all the way up. Sharp. Almost impossibly acute. There's a grunt from somewhere way deep in the back of his throat, a low guttural Spanish cuss word that probably needs no translation help from the walkies (but gets one anyway). There's the distinct feeling of Lalo's grip on Rust's mouth starting to loosen, then quickly re-tightening. And then...
Nothing. As much as Lalo's face is contorted in pain behind Rust, what he just did seems to have done very little in terms of actually changing his circumstances.
"No," Lalo says softly but firmly, in the same tone of voice that a parent would use on a naughty, incorrigible child. Rust might need to get some shit out of his system though, Lalo realizes, as much as he slightly dreads the possibility. Ugh. People are so ungrateful these days. Doesn't this guy know how much Lalo is risking for his crazy ass?
As gently as he can, considering the inherent violence of the motion, Lalo's good leg motions to sweep under Rust's ankles and, hopefully, force him to topple back into Lalo's arms to find his footing. He doesn't want to hurt Rust... and he can think of better ways to effectively break someone's spirit.
It was nice being friends while it lasted. Oh, well!
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Then it happens. The kick connects unequivocally. Pain shoots through his leg, all the way up. Sharp. Almost impossibly acute. There's a grunt from somewhere way deep in the back of his throat, a low guttural Spanish cuss word that probably needs no translation help from the walkies (but gets one anyway). There's the distinct feeling of Lalo's grip on Rust's mouth starting to loosen, then quickly re-tightening. And then...
Nothing. As much as Lalo's face is contorted in pain behind Rust, what he just did seems to have done very little in terms of actually changing his circumstances.
"No," Lalo says softly but firmly, in the same tone of voice that a parent would use on a naughty, incorrigible child. Rust might need to get some shit out of his system though, Lalo realizes, as much as he slightly dreads the possibility. Ugh. People are so ungrateful these days. Doesn't this guy know how much Lalo is risking for his crazy ass?
As gently as he can, considering the inherent violence of the motion, Lalo's good leg motions to sweep under Rust's ankles and, hopefully, force him to topple back into Lalo's arms to find his footing. He doesn't want to hurt Rust... and he can think of better ways to effectively break someone's spirit.
It was nice being friends while it lasted. Oh, well!