Re: [No. 22: Hunter R & Cris M]
"She's still prolly beat us outta findin' em," Cris had tried to continue, ready to enjoy an evening outside. He hadn't been getting nearly enough exercise, least for him. He went to the lil gym at the backa the station, but he was thinkinga getting a heavy bag for the apartment. Maybe too, he'd start running down, over the tracks and back. Shit, if he played it right, he might be able to get Sam into it too, huh? Yeah, they were good ideas, and he was happy to let them idle and marinate in the backa his head. But, the sudden appearancea that fence kinda killed all that.
Hunter was talking, level, but confused, and the Sheriff made no move to answer yet. He watched that egg burst, plastic snapping apart at the seam, as it hit the fence with force. Okay, his brain continued without his input. So it's real. It didn't really occur to the guy that it wouldn't be. Cris trusted his sanity, huh? But, it was still shocking, a painful stretch in his mind, that, okay, if it was real, how?
"Stay here." Cris put a hand to the gringito's chest to plant him on the grass. He gave him one very intense, very serious glance, before he took a couplea steps away from the islanda the kid. He wasn't tentative, but training honed his movements, and his footfalls were quiet, sure but careful. The fence wasn't gonna run away, so it was prolly stupid, but Cris didn't think about that either. Tongue over his bottom lip, gaze steady on the fence, he approached—
But, it was like he was making no ground at all. The fence, too tall to see over, all boards weathered soft-cornered and stringy as jerky, was as far away as it had been when he started.—With a frown, he looked back at Hunter. There was a good couplea yard between them now. Cris clenched his jaw and stood up. Fucking Repose. He didn't panic and no fear frothed acrid up the spouta his throat. Nah, it was just anger. Annoyance that tasted like copper on his tongue. There was no fog or nothing, the night seemed clear, but where there'd been soundsa people milling before, there was nothing.
He almost rolled his eyes. He touched La Caridad—or where she was under all his layers.
Pivoting on the same heel as before, he took in a full, 360º viewa their ramshackle prison. He licked his lips, mind whirring behind dark eyes, before he finally reached out to Hunter. "C'mere. Watch the fence as you move." Not even a shredda doubt clotted in Cris' voice, certain as it was. "Tell me what you see."—In the interim, waiting for the kid, he patted at his pocket and pulled out his phone. He needed to call Sam and see if she was stuck somewhere too.