Re: Sonrisa: Hunter R & Cris M
A quick spasm of adrenaline crackled through Hunter like a bolt from a faulty socket, the sting of the scratch on his arm disappearing in a frisson of panic as he heard a scrape and a shout--the shout he most did not want to hear. Nobody shouted "police" in Repose in Hunter's memory, because previous deputies had been grouchy people who knew him by sight. The shout called up a whole lot of previous experience in the Capital, the city where you were an anonymous criminal and the police were anonymous cops. Good guy bad guy. Cops and robbers.
Hunter looked back once, and there was actually time to see his hands, hanging there by his sides while he dashed one mad, round-eyed look over his shoulder. There was just a second though, because that was when the panic really kicked in and Hunter tore off down the alley, heading blindly for an empty street and the scrub grass that would eventually turn into the tangled orchards he knew best.
Those boots weren't exactly marathon sprinting shoes, either, and like Cris, Hunter was slipping on the sidewalk as he took a corner hard and ran for his damn life.