"Cigarettes have nothing to do with being an effective soldier." As the words are pronounced, the butt is released from his fingers, dropping to the ground. In the ponderous silence, the soft, papery sound was almost sharp.
Put in this position, HUNK needed to see all aspects of the man he was to trust. Naturally, HUNK wasn't the type to manipulate people, and he hated the recent string of situations that had been demanding him to. It was starting to wear on his nerves. He was a soldier, not a spy.
"I know your worth."
The invitation for the attack wasn't unexpected. It was probably prompted by some unspoken, and most likely unconscious, inner code. Or plain hubris. Either way.
HUNK tilted his head to one side, speculatively watching Ginovaef, though his expression was flat. Then he was a blur of motion, slamming a foot straight for Ginovaef's Achilles tendon.