Bolt from the blue

[m_pinocchio]

Sometimes, he thinks he was made for this. Or maybe not quite this, but things like it. It's not something he's proud of or something he'd really talk about, but on days like this--good days, really good days--he's got the weight off the gun in his hands and prey somewhere in front of him, and the warm presence of Tom Hobbes next to him and waiting

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[out_of_realm]

Tom nodded subtly, easing up behind Mike silently. They'd done this hundreds of times, during the Realm and here, both. The details changed, but the sensation of being alone, alert with Mike Pinocchio, that stayed the same.

"He's big," Tom murmured, looking at the destruction of the trail in front of them. He glanced up ahead, peering into the heavy undergrowth. "We're gonna have to take him down quick."

[m_pinocchio]

"No problem." He flashes Tom a grin, crooked and cocky, and it's almost like they never got married at all. Not in a bad way, not that he'd ever want to forget it. But before anything else, before he'd been willing to admit that it went any further, they were friends. And that's still there.

"Think maybe we should flush him out?"

[out_of_realm]

Tom wavered back and forth for a moment, considering, but after a moment he nodded. It was hot and he was looking forward to a long drink at the Winchester that afternoon. Quicker was better. They could spend ten hours tracking the thing through undergrowth on a day with less than ninety percent humidity.

"Want me to circle round ahead of it, turn him around?"

[m_pinocchio]

He nods. "Easy does it. I can get him when he comes past." One quick shot into the brain-pan, if he can. The hunt itself might be a thing, but he never likes it when these things drag out. And it doesn't do any favors to the meat.

"If I miss, you be ready." But he knows he doesn't even have to say it. Not by this time.