Re: [quicklog: micah c, neil d, cris m, louis d]
[He hadn't expected to get caught so quickly. It was easier to move with this body, with a hip that wasn't pinned together with hope and a prayer, but it still wasn't quick enough. His fingers had just reached the open door when Cris barreled into him, face into the dirt as he landed hard with the tackle at his ankles. There was a shout from him, a squirm and a kick before a hand stronger than his caught his wrist and pinned it against his back.
He tried to twist out of the grip, tried to get some leverage that would allow him to escape, but he had nothing on Cris in terms of strength or skill. When the pressure of the cuffs came, Micah didn't resist, slim wrists trapped, dark hair a tangle, dusty with the dry dirt that he had been pressed into. Unbeknownst to him, the dirt and the tangles made him more of a doppelganger to Sam, blue eyes narrowed as he was hauled up to his feet, sandals lost in the struggle leaving him bare toes against the dirt-covered ground.
Even though it was Cris that had a hand on him, his attention was drawn by Louis, by the heat, the emptiness in the man's eyes as he stood close enough to touch. There was a swipe of his tongue across pale lips as he stared at Lou, ignoring Cris and Neil almost entirely.] Do you wanna know how I did it? [His normal patter of speech was abandoned, something more casual adopted that wasn't quite Sam but less like Micah. Blur the lines. He wanted to blur those lines, to take advantage of the body that he had adopted.] How I shot him? Cut 'em up? Do you wanna know where the pieces are? [Another lick of his lips and he twisted against the cuffs, against metal cutting into bird-thin wrists.]