"Hm. What a shame. We thought you'd be poetic with your last words. Oh, well. Good day, Mr. Craw." The gun clicked and he would hear a familiar gasp emerge from the woods as Poppy stepped into view, her gaze flickering between the men and Francis. "What's..." "Ah, Ms. Abernathy," the man said with a grin. "So you are here."
She looked down at Francis with wide grey eyes, her brow furrowed as she took in the situation. There was a deep sadness in her gaze as she studied him, but she looked back up at the man, slipping off her coat in anticipation. The man tilted his head with an open smile. "Ms. Abernathy," he began warmly. "Gun, knife or fist?" Poppy met his gaze fiercely. Her voice was steadier than she expected. "Fist." The man beamed, as if pleased with her answer. "Excellent choice," he said, stepping forward before swinging at her.
Poppy ducked and shot her leg out, causing the man to stumble. She came around to his back, wrapping an arm around his neck. The man threw his head back, trying to headbutt her, but she dodged and kicked his legs out from under him. He went limp, clawing at her arm and she looked down at him with a frown, her gaze calculating. She pulled him up and pushed him forward so that her back was to Francis and the man awaiting instructions. When the man with the charming smile charged at her, she waited until the last second before crouching so his belly hit her shoulder. She grunted before standing up, effectively flipping him over onto the other machine. They both collapsed and she picked up the dropped gun, offering a free hand to Francis. "Can you run?"
Two gunshots echoed through the forest and several minutes later, Poppy ran up and joined him, the gun still in her hands. Her brow was furrowed in worry and she took his hand. "I'll patch you up when we get home, okay?" she asked, her voice still holding a strange sense of calm. "I don't think we should stop now."
She pulled him forward, her hand strong in his. When they returned to the apartment, she closed the door and locked it behind her before turning to look at him, her eyes wide.
She was quiet for a moment before crossing the room slowly. She hesitated before opening her arms to him, trying to judge what he needed in the moment.
Her fingers brushed through his black hair, her head resting on his shoulder. "It's okay," she murmured quietly. "You're okay."
She was quiet, looking up at him. After pausing for a moment, she reached up and held his face in her hands. "Let me clean your cuts," she said softly. "We'll talk, but wait just a moment."
