He hadn't even looked that hard at that floor when he'd dropped Eponine off. Maybe he should've. R had been in such a hurry to get some distance between them, show her that he wasn't a man-eater anymore, that he hadn't bothered to check for anything overflowing with pastries. Damn. They probably would've had chocolate, too.
R blows out a wistful sigh. "Probably isn't safe yet to go back, is it?" There's an unconscious "we" in there, as if he's decided too soon that Hans and him are on the same side. It's a rhetorical question anyway.
With the way Hans is studying the case, he probably wants to try his chances with the sword. Seeing as the guy gave him a donut, it can't hurt to help him out, can it? He could've jumped him at any time, R reasons (and doesn't think that it'd be easier to jump him with a sword). His hand clenches at his side, seconds away from just pounding on the glass case until he remembers wait, he's not Dead anymore, and he can't just beat on something until his hands snap off. Not only would it hurt for once, it'd probably send Hans running for the hills, just when they'd been hitting it off. Better find a tool.
R comes back from the gift shop with a paperweight in hand: it's heavy, probably good brushed steel and molded in the shape of that Disneyland dragon. Beats using his fists.
"Stand back," he warns Hans, winding up and throwing it. R's a terrible shot, but he's also only a few feet away - it's hard even for him to miss with his wimpy arm. The glass case shatters, shards tinkling to the floor.
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R blows out a wistful sigh. "Probably isn't safe yet to go back, is it?" There's an unconscious "we" in there, as if he's decided too soon that Hans and him are on the same side. It's a rhetorical question anyway.
With the way Hans is studying the case, he probably wants to try his chances with the sword. Seeing as the guy gave him a donut, it can't hurt to help him out, can it? He could've jumped him at any time, R reasons (and doesn't think that it'd be easier to jump him with a sword). His hand clenches at his side, seconds away from just pounding on the glass case until he remembers wait, he's not Dead anymore, and he can't just beat on something until his hands snap off. Not only would it hurt for once, it'd probably send Hans running for the hills, just when they'd been hitting it off. Better find a tool.
R comes back from the gift shop with a paperweight in hand: it's heavy, probably good brushed steel and molded in the shape of that Disneyland dragon. Beats using his fists.
"Stand back," he warns Hans, winding up and throwing it. R's a terrible shot, but he's also only a few feet away - it's hard even for him to miss with his wimpy arm. The glass case shatters, shards tinkling to the floor.