[It takes forever for Wash to catch up with him, and Pietro taps his foot the entire time, fidgeting irritably, and he has other reasons for it besides impatience, trying to burn off every bit of pent-up energy before they get to the apartments, adrenaline and that underlying element of fear only making him far more restless. When Wash finally reaches him, grabbing his arm, Pietro rolls his eyes, and hadn't expected much else, that possessiveness muted but still there. Only the way Wash pulls him closer and slides his arm around him makes Pietro scoff indignantly, that friendly familiarity somehow more offensive than if Wash were to drag him off somewhere by his wrist, but it's a sound that trails off too soon into a soft gasp at the presence of that second knife, presumably kept up Wash's sleeve, the sharp point of it grazing Pietro's skin. His muscles tighten under it, and he feels that blade as if it's pressing up against a bruise that's no longer there, heat prickling in his stomach as he shivers once.
He furrows his eyebrows at that smile, both disturbed and further irritated by it. Wash doesn't need to keep up some kind of appearances out here. Pietro has never been respectful or leaning into his station in public, frequently doing the opposite with provocative intent, and it grates on him to be shoved into it like this. He huffs and wraps his trembling fingers around Wash's wrist, not pulling it away, but pressing the knife against himself more firmly, a reminder that they're not here to talk. That's not what Pietro wants, and only what he wants matters. The question gets ignored in favour of a raised eyebrow and a direct and level sideways look at Wash as they continue walking at a snail's pace. Pietro speaks casually, and his statement is true as far as he knows, unless that weird metal piece at the back of Wash's neck affords him some superhuman abilities to withstand such force.]
I could kill you in less than a second if I wanted. You realise that by now, yes?
[He is in control, and whether he needs to remind Wash or himself, he has to draw attention to it.]
no subject
He furrows his eyebrows at that smile, both disturbed and further irritated by it. Wash doesn't need to keep up some kind of appearances out here. Pietro has never been respectful or leaning into his station in public, frequently doing the opposite with provocative intent, and it grates on him to be shoved into it like this. He huffs and wraps his trembling fingers around Wash's wrist, not pulling it away, but pressing the knife against himself more firmly, a reminder that they're not here to talk. That's not what Pietro wants, and only what he wants matters. The question gets ignored in favour of a raised eyebrow and a direct and level sideways look at Wash as they continue walking at a snail's pace. Pietro speaks casually, and his statement is true as far as he knows, unless that weird metal piece at the back of Wash's neck affords him some superhuman abilities to withstand such force.]
I could kill you in less than a second if I wanted. You realise that by now, yes?
[He is in control, and whether he needs to remind Wash or himself, he has to draw attention to it.]