[When the shotgun goes airborne, the kid all but yelps in surprise. His eyes are like saucers, his mouth hanging open as mental collection moves to disarray. His hardly-visible trembles are now in full view and his feet slide together. His empty hands twitch, looking for something to hold onto to. Unfortunately, he takes a few uneven steps back and goes crashing to the floor; breathing heavily as he tries to crab-walk for escape.]
[Greed's already up, his head bowed. A grip of claws holds his neck and he groans slightly, twisting at the muscle and bone locked underneath his palm. The leader of the group takes no pause, his rifle rearing up in a shining sheen: no unlike a tank posed to fire. He goes to pull the trigger. Goes again - ] "Piece of god'mn shit!" [He furiously pulls back the cock-pull hammer, releasing an unspent shell onto the floor. It rolls away, the pointed tip catching moonlight before it disappears into a corner.]
[It's enough of a pause.]
[While he doesn't have the usual tricks, Greed's talons grab the wooden length of the rifle. He can't slice it apart like he'd normally would, but one good twist snaps the man's wrist clean. The weapon drops and the Sin's look is put-upon. As if this is all merely a bother.] Oh-? Probably hurt yourself that way, Chief. [The tone of his voice is sharp, sing-song. Even as the elder of the bunch wails, his sodden lip smeared in a wet sheen of aged, tarry tobacco. Greed holds him firm, parting only a brief glance upward to signal his would-be second.] I told you, I wasn't interested in hurting anyone. But you're not really giving me much choice.
[Greed's other hand shoots off like a gunshot, his claws snaring the older man's collar. Behind him, his wings are a terrible looming of brimstone - their shape fading by the outline. One beat has the two of them against the opposing wall and the former homunculus uses the side of it to lift the older man up and off the floor. His aged old boots hang and the laces dangle as his last lifeline. This close, he can practically smell it on him; a soul quivering deep down with a boy's kind of fear. Something that old men try to bury over time.]
[It's sickeningly sweet.] That's twice now - why don't we try not to make it messier than it has to be this time, hmn? [His free hand is out, his arm gesturing slowly to his side. The two others stare on, the youngest one frozen in the corner. Greed cricks his head to the side as he draws eerily close to the leader's face. His eyes are wide behind his sunglasses, the pricks of his pupils thickening out with the idea. It's been a while since he last consumed and the ping of hunger brought on by the recent fog isn't doing him any favors.]
[Thankfully, chance luck seems to be on his side.] "I'll fuckin' see you n'Hell f'er I make no deal." [The man finally speaks up, his voice choking on his own spittle. Greed's eyes settle, his lids hooding with a small sneer.] Eh - that's a shame. [Under the demon's grip, the appointed leader tries to furiously snatch at his cross. It causes the Sin to reel back slightly, his frown more pronounced. His grip loosens just a tad, fabric sliding between his claws in a silent whispers of linen.]
[The Sin sighs - dramatic, overly so. As his hand snakes around back, effectively plucking the clasp of the necklace to make it fall to the floor. It drops once; like a heavy piece of lead, or a bad omen in the making.]
[Then he has his head against the other's, foreheads touching. The older man finally goes still, a dreamy look washing over his face. At peace, for a moment. His arms hang at his sides, his eyes turn milky in their stare. Had it been anything else, the act might look intimate.] I really am sorry, you know. [The Sin hums rather pleasantly. But then his jaws are opening, his teeth glint. What happens is a reaction and something slips out of the opening in the man's lip. A vacuum to dust, wrenching a whispering form out from his teeth. In comes in slowly, time ticking almost to a halt.]
[Then it's gone. Down Greed's throat with a simple rattling of his tongue. The older man's eyes roll back into his skull and Sin lets loose his grip. He stares down at the unconscious form, his expression mixed with distaste.]
no subject
[Greed's already up, his head bowed. A grip of claws holds his neck and he groans slightly, twisting at the muscle and bone locked underneath his palm. The leader of the group takes no pause, his rifle rearing up in a shining sheen: no unlike a tank posed to fire. He goes to pull the trigger. Goes again - ] "Piece of god'mn shit!" [He furiously pulls back the cock-pull hammer, releasing an unspent shell onto the floor. It rolls away, the pointed tip catching moonlight before it disappears into a corner.]
[It's enough of a pause.]
[While he doesn't have the usual tricks, Greed's talons grab the wooden length of the rifle. He can't slice it apart like he'd normally would, but one good twist snaps the man's wrist clean. The weapon drops and the Sin's look is put-upon. As if this is all merely a bother.] Oh-? Probably hurt yourself that way, Chief. [The tone of his voice is sharp, sing-song. Even as the elder of the bunch wails, his sodden lip smeared in a wet sheen of aged, tarry tobacco. Greed holds him firm, parting only a brief glance upward to signal his would-be second.] I told you, I wasn't interested in hurting anyone. But you're not really giving me much choice.
[Greed's other hand shoots off like a gunshot, his claws snaring the older man's collar. Behind him, his wings are a terrible looming of brimstone - their shape fading by the outline. One beat has the two of them against the opposing wall and the former homunculus uses the side of it to lift the older man up and off the floor. His aged old boots hang and the laces dangle as his last lifeline. This close, he can practically smell it on him; a soul quivering deep down with a boy's kind of fear. Something that old men try to bury over time.]
[It's sickeningly sweet.] That's twice now - why don't we try not to make it messier than it has to be this time, hmn? [His free hand is out, his arm gesturing slowly to his side. The two others stare on, the youngest one frozen in the corner. Greed cricks his head to the side as he draws eerily close to the leader's face. His eyes are wide behind his sunglasses, the pricks of his pupils thickening out with the idea. It's been a while since he last consumed and the ping of hunger brought on by the recent fog isn't doing him any favors.]
[Thankfully, chance luck seems to be on his side.] "I'll fuckin' see you n'Hell f'er I make no deal." [The man finally speaks up, his voice choking on his own spittle. Greed's eyes settle, his lids hooding with a small sneer.] Eh - that's a shame. [Under the demon's grip, the appointed leader tries to furiously snatch at his cross. It causes the Sin to reel back slightly, his frown more pronounced. His grip loosens just a tad, fabric sliding between his claws in a silent whispers of linen.]
[The Sin sighs - dramatic, overly so. As his hand snakes around back, effectively plucking the clasp of the necklace to make it fall to the floor. It drops once; like a heavy piece of lead, or a bad omen in the making.]
[Then he has his head against the other's, foreheads touching. The older man finally goes still, a dreamy look washing over his face. At peace, for a moment. His arms hang at his sides, his eyes turn milky in their stare. Had it been anything else, the act might look intimate.] I really am sorry, you know. [The Sin hums rather pleasantly. But then his jaws are opening, his teeth glint. What happens is a reaction and something slips out of the opening in the man's lip. A vacuum to dust, wrenching a whispering form out from his teeth. In comes in slowly, time ticking almost to a halt.]
[Then it's gone. Down Greed's throat with a simple rattling of his tongue. The older man's eyes roll back into his skull and Sin lets loose his grip. He stares down at the unconscious form, his expression mixed with distaste.]