There's a soft mutter ("Crap") when Nate realizes he can't actually drop down the hole without seriously injuring himself, and opts instead to straighten and look over the ledge, searching wildly for any sign of either of his partners.
"Alright. Explosions, huge hole, no word from Chloe or Cutter. Huge swarm of foreign police out for your blood. Think, Nate, think--"
Almost on cue, Nate catches the sound of a safety clicking off behind him. Before he even has time to think about it, he finds himself jumping across the rooftop and--ends just a bit too short, scrambling to hang onto a window awning. He feels the sting of something slicing his arm ("Great, now I'm gonna owe interest on top of everything else"). It takes every ounce of his willpower not to just let go, but at the moment he's hanging off a building out in the open.
That shot may have (mostly) missed him, but there's a good chance the next one won't.
Chloe in a car, apparently not terribly worse for the wear is a sight for sore eyes. He almost makes a joke of it-- and then there's the crack of gunfire as he swings about to catch sight of Nate climbing to a bloody window ledge, feet scrambling at the wall. Two limping strides down the road and the angle opens up enough that the man with the gun aimed toward Drake is clear enough.
So Charlie levels the Walther, fires, and that's that.
"Oi!" He doesn't bother with holstering the gun as he calls to Nate. "Quit messing about!"
"Seriously." Chloe chides, reaching over to pop the door open for Charlie, foot still stuck on the gas pedal. "Haven't got all day to toy about with these clowns."
He needs less time than that to find a foothold firm enough to let him jump to the nearest lamppost, which he then proceeds to slide down. Nate had spotted Charlie limping, so he slows his sprint toward them to a trot once he's level with him.
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"Alright. Explosions, huge hole, no word from Chloe or Cutter. Huge swarm of foreign police out for your blood. Think, Nate, think--"
Almost on cue, Nate catches the sound of a safety clicking off behind him. Before he even has time to think about it, he finds himself jumping across the rooftop and--ends just a bit too short, scrambling to hang onto a window awning. He feels the sting of something slicing his arm ("Great, now I'm gonna owe interest on top of everything else"). It takes every ounce of his willpower not to just let go, but at the moment he's hanging off a building out in the open.
That shot may have (mostly) missed him, but there's a good chance the next one won't.
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So Charlie levels the Walther, fires, and that's that.
"Oi!" He doesn't bother with holstering the gun as he calls to Nate. "Quit messing about!"
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He needs less time than that to find a foothold firm enough to let him jump to the nearest lamppost, which he then proceeds to slide down. Nate had spotted Charlie limping, so he slows his sprint toward them to a trot once he's level with him.
"Need a hand?"