[ It's the way the kid's arm looks like it's been bitten into, thick ghost-like ugly scarring that snakes along the skin of her forearm, that has him relenting. This paired with her sudden burst of strength and the panicked protest in her voice sends Rocket back to land on his feet some paces away, breathing heavily.
The low hum of adrenaline still pumps through his veins but something shifts in him. He isn't even sure what it is yet, but a smudge of images from his own childhood scatter across his vision — the way the numerous surgeries and implants had left him with some pretty gruesome looking scars stitched into his flesh, the kind that fur couldn't even grow over to hide them. There's several reasons why he'd adopted the person-custom of wearing clothing, and this is one of them.
He stares at her, rows of sharp teeth still bared, but the tension in his frame yields. His dark eyes go to her arm again and in a not-too-kindly voice, he asks: ]
no subject
The low hum of adrenaline still pumps through his veins but something shifts in him. He isn't even sure what it is yet, but a smudge of images from his own childhood scatter across his vision — the way the numerous surgeries and implants had left him with some pretty gruesome looking scars stitched into his flesh, the kind that fur couldn't even grow over to hide them. There's several reasons why he'd adopted the person-custom of wearing clothing, and this is one of them.
He stares at her, rows of sharp teeth still bared, but the tension in his frame yields. His dark eyes go to her arm again and in a not-too-kindly voice, he asks: ]
The hell is that?