Rok... is not used to fighting with multiple people on his side. He wishes he had spent more time in New York, maybe going around with Vernard and the Four to get his bearings, but it was too late now. He was going to have to get used to it.
He looked at the glow of his hands. He hesitated too much. Waited for a shot that never came. He wasn't a sniper, he had no ammunitions ot worry of. Why did he not take the shot?
It did not bother him now. A nausea blast was sent off to follow Victor's lightning, and he looked at the man who still ran.
His eyesdrifted to Anya, still confusing him. Then to the newcomers.
"Molly. Victor. So good to see you." He stops glowing, trying to take on a more friendly appearance.
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