[ If he worries about looking the fool, atop his reservedness, for being so uncertain, he should have no fear with her. She would like to see anyone handle being confined to an inanimate object half as gracefully as he seems to. Richie just about pissed himself just being invited inside, it doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in her. But Boxer, he's already got a foot in the door, as it were. ]
Concentrate over here, would you?
[ And with that uselessly vague instruction, she sets about latching firmly into his consciousness and giving it an experimental yank. Truthfully, she's making an effort to grab hold of the lot within the sword, but just as her attempts to penetrate their thoughts slide off like an icy surface, her claws barely scrape across their surfaces. In the end, all that she can lift from the sword remains the one that got away in the first place. ]
[ And so when next he wakes from a world gone dark, he'll be standing alone on a blackened court—you know the place—shrouded in swirls of green and gold hue. Well, alone save for Sandra, standing opposite him before an inset of stained glass much like the one at his heels, but much more alone than she had been academically intending him to be. The figure, solid as it had once been in the simulations, gives a shrug. ]
no subject
[ If he worries about looking the fool, atop his reservedness, for being so uncertain, he should have no fear with her. She would like to see anyone handle being confined to an inanimate object half as gracefully as he seems to. Richie just about pissed himself just being invited inside, it doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in her. But Boxer, he's already got a foot in the door, as it were. ]
Concentrate over here, would you?
[ And with that uselessly vague instruction, she sets about latching firmly into his consciousness and giving it an experimental yank. Truthfully, she's making an effort to grab hold of the lot within the sword, but just as her attempts to penetrate their thoughts slide off like an icy surface, her claws barely scrape across their surfaces. In the end, all that she can lift from the sword remains the one that got away in the first place. ]
[ And so when next he wakes from a world gone dark, he'll be standing alone on a blackened court—you know the place—shrouded in swirls of green and gold hue. Well, alone save for Sandra, standing opposite him before an inset of stained glass much like the one at his heels, but much more alone than she had been academically intending him to be. The figure, solid as it had once been in the simulations, gives a shrug. ]
Worth a shot, I suppose. At least you made it.