[ while david twists and gets a quick stretch in, jeff takes the handful of empty seconds to give david one more quick look-over, just to be sure he's not bleeding from anywhere else or sporting an open wound he hasn't registered yet (jeff used to think that sort of thing never really happened in real life, that it was a trope mostly for movies to heighten the drama, but he knows better now. he's been stabbed and slashed and hooked so many times by this point that sometimes it's easy to forget that he hasn't bandaged himself up. sometimes it's easy to prioritize other things over a giant, gaping wound somewhere on his body), and if his eyes linger for a second or two longer than necessary around david's collar as he twists, it's... just because david's got a tattoo tucked away on the side of his neck that catches his attention, and not for any other reason. not that he's never seen it before now, but.
shifting his eyes from david, jeff clears his throat and takes a brief look around the saloon while david pulls on his jacket, idly passing a hand over the bottom half of his face. it seems quiet, which is probably a good thing for them, though it's probably best not to linger long enough for that to change. when david cracks a joke, jeff chuckles a little under his breath, just a quick exhale through his nose and a brief flash of his teeth to show for it. ]
Mm. Lucky they didn't find you. [ the saloon is... wide open. jeff shrugs, and makes a motion to put his hands into his jacket pockets, but remembers too late that he's not wearing it anymore. awkward. ] Too good for them, probably.
[ because they're known for eating dead things. roadkill. anyway. he grabs the little bit of scrap metal from the bar top, pockets it so as to leave as little evidence behind as possible (the cuffs are just going to have to stay clipped around the bar for the sake of time - if one of racoon city's finest wants them back, they'll just have to come and reclaim them), and then tilts his head in the direction of the back door, hidden behind the bar's back. ]
no subject
shifting his eyes from david, jeff clears his throat and takes a brief look around the saloon while david pulls on his jacket, idly passing a hand over the bottom half of his face. it seems quiet, which is probably a good thing for them, though it's probably best not to linger long enough for that to change. when david cracks a joke, jeff chuckles a little under his breath, just a quick exhale through his nose and a brief flash of his teeth to show for it. ]
Mm. Lucky they didn't find you. [ the saloon is... wide open. jeff shrugs, and makes a motion to put his hands into his jacket pockets, but remembers too late that he's not wearing it anymore. awkward. ] Too good for them, probably.
[ because they're known for eating dead things. roadkill. anyway. he grabs the little bit of scrap metal from the bar top, pockets it so as to leave as little evidence behind as possible (the cuffs are just going to have to stay clipped around the bar for the sake of time - if one of racoon city's finest wants them back, they'll just have to come and reclaim them), and then tilts his head in the direction of the back door, hidden behind the bar's back. ]
Good?