[Some part of his brain tells him he's in shock; tries to justify the fact that he acted and triggered the detonator because of lingering shock from Robin's loss. He's covered in blood like he's just bathed in the sticky, pungent stuff; he can feel the way it creeps down his back, seeps into every corner and crevice of his body.
He shudders.
He's still trying to catch up with his own actions; one minute, Translucent had been pleading with him to spare his life, the next, the ringing in Hughie's head drowned out everything else, and, suddenly, boom. Translucent now covers the room Hughie stands in.
He blinks when he realizes someone is speaking to him. He blinks again when he realizes that it's freaking Homelander standing in front of him, saying something about the very obvious detonator in Hughie's hands. Oh shit. Oh fuck.]
Maybe I'm just happy to see you?
[No, that's a terrible attempt at a quip, something that Butcher could pull off better than him. He squeaks more than actually speaks; terror grips him, as cold as the temperature in the room seems to suddenly drop. He gulps, wondering how long he might have to live.]
no subject
He shudders.
He's still trying to catch up with his own actions; one minute, Translucent had been pleading with him to spare his life, the next, the ringing in Hughie's head drowned out everything else, and, suddenly, boom. Translucent now covers the room Hughie stands in.
He blinks when he realizes someone is speaking to him. He blinks again when he realizes that it's freaking Homelander standing in front of him, saying something about the very obvious detonator in Hughie's hands. Oh shit. Oh fuck.]
Maybe I'm just happy to see you?
[No, that's a terrible attempt at a quip, something that Butcher could pull off better than him. He squeaks more than actually speaks; terror grips him, as cold as the temperature in the room seems to suddenly drop. He gulps, wondering how long he might have to live.]