There was no questioning on Wesker's part. No hesitation. This outcome had always been a possibility, one of the many he'd supposed.
He had long ago come to his decision.
One moment Joan was reaching, her fingers curling in hair, and the in next, he was suddenly there, soft leather over the steel of his fingers wrapping around her wrist. The slashing lights of the machinery back-lighting his sunglasses, his eyes flashing like embers.
His world was dead. It would be centuries before enough of the rot and ash was scrapped away to even see the memory of what it had once been. To even dream of equaling it.
It would be centuries beyond that he would be able to surpass it.
Panem was a second chance. A new day.
His world, now.
The red eyes flicked to Joan's, met them for a moment, and then he was turning and holding out his free hand, gloved fingers curling in invitation.
no subject
He had long ago come to his decision.
One moment Joan was reaching, her fingers curling in hair, and the in next, he was suddenly there, soft leather over the steel of his fingers wrapping around her wrist. The slashing lights of the machinery back-lighting his sunglasses, his eyes flashing like embers.
His world was dead. It would be centuries before enough of the rot and ash was scrapped away to even see the memory of what it had once been. To even dream of equaling it.
It would be centuries beyond that he would be able to surpass it.
Panem was a second chance. A new day.
His world, now.
The red eyes flicked to Joan's, met them for a moment, and then he was turning and holding out his free hand, gloved fingers curling in invitation.
(If they dared.)