It’s easy to want to mentally shift into auto-pilot and keep his gaze fixed forward while their surroundings sweep past them. But swinging demands that he must always keep his wits about himself, constantly trying to gauge the closest target within sixty five feet that might support their combined weight in a short span of time. A half-minute of brisk swinging goes smoothly and uneventfully, though he’s beginning to feel the straining pull of muscles where the metal molded to form his shoulder port and grafted over part of his left side meets flesh. He sets his jaw. Trying to remember the way he came is no difficult task, at least – the river is again his guide and he remembers passing the dome along the way. She’d be indoors and warm soon enough, looked over by capable people...
A punctuating, bone-like snap of a branch jars him to attention and they’re suddenly dropping, and faster than he’d have expected.]
Shit—I got you!
[Pulse pounding in his throat, he extends his arm to grab for something, narrowly missing it. It’s all he can do now to let himself land forward as not to crush her, instinctively attempting to thrust his bionic arm out to help absorb the shock of the fall. Still, making impact sends a hard, vicious jolt through reinforced bones and jostles his sunglasses off his face. He pauses a moment to collect himself despite his dizzy spell, adrenaline thrumming and throbbing through him as he breathes and breathes.]
...Sorry.
[He offers after a moment, under his breath. Of everything, it would seem his pride suffered the worst blow. Half-turning his head, he asks:]
You okay?
[It was only fitting that he ask before taking to the skies soon enough.]
Yeah, it's kind of horrendous.
It’s easy to want to mentally shift into auto-pilot and keep his gaze fixed forward while their surroundings sweep past them. But swinging demands that he must always keep his wits about himself, constantly trying to gauge the closest target within sixty five feet that might support their combined weight in a short span of time. A half-minute of brisk swinging goes smoothly and uneventfully, though he’s beginning to feel the straining pull of muscles where the metal molded to form his shoulder port and grafted over part of his left side meets flesh. He sets his jaw. Trying to remember the way he came is no difficult task, at least – the river is again his guide and he remembers passing the dome along the way. She’d be indoors and warm soon enough, looked over by capable people...
A punctuating, bone-like snap of a branch jars him to attention and they’re suddenly dropping, and faster than he’d have expected.]
Shit—I got you!
[Pulse pounding in his throat, he extends his arm to grab for something, narrowly missing it. It’s all he can do now to let himself land forward as not to crush her, instinctively attempting to thrust his bionic arm out to help absorb the shock of the fall. Still, making impact sends a hard, vicious jolt through reinforced bones and jostles his sunglasses off his face. He pauses a moment to collect himself despite his dizzy spell, adrenaline thrumming and throbbing through him as he breathes and breathes.]
...Sorry.
[He offers after a moment, under his breath. Of everything, it would seem his pride suffered the worst blow. Half-turning his head, he asks:]
You okay?
[It was only fitting that he ask before taking to the skies soon enough.]