[Long ago at St. Agnes Matt and Mike would read to each other. Adventure stories, mysteries and the occasional horror meant for children. Terrible stuff. The witch of the forest, the specter at the lake, the vengeful woman in the bathroom mirror. Matt didn't put too much stock into it. Just amusement to pass the time, an excuse to scare one another and distract from the day to day. He has never felt the presence of any one or anything otherworldly than in the house of God. So when the fight breaks out, the panic sets in and the only defenders of the city are caught in the melee Matt feels a chill strike right to the bone.
As usual, he can't count on Stick. Not for this, not for anything. They're brothers, they're more close than he can understand or imagine. So of course he makes his own plans, immediately fixing to separate Michael from the rest.]
Can we just--[Oof, a blow to the gut.] Wait. Just--[okay avoided that one catching both hands.] I want to talk to you.
[That's not his heartbeat, that's his breath, his moves. The set of his jaw and the way he grinds his teeth when he's particularly irritated.]
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As usual, he can't count on Stick. Not for this, not for anything. They're brothers, they're more close than he can understand or imagine. So of course he makes his own plans, immediately fixing to separate Michael from the rest.]
Can we just--[Oof, a blow to the gut.] Wait. Just--[okay avoided that one catching both hands.] I want to talk to you.
[That's not his heartbeat, that's his breath, his moves. The set of his jaw and the way he grinds his teeth when he's particularly irritated.]
Stop.. this-this isn't you!