Gaheris set his chiseled jaw hard, hands clutched behind his back for the time being. But his eyes had strayed from Dylan's face to his elbow, watching what he was about to do with that force lance. It was obvious that he wasn't about to take chances, not really.
But still he was reluctant, at this point, to pull his weapon on his friend.
"Put it away. We're not aboard the Andromeda and it would do no good here. Revenge is my prerogative, not yours." He didn't move. Not a hair. Not an inch. Not a sigh. Not a breath beyond what he needed to make words. He was intent and ready for defense.
"And I don't suspect anything that I say about what hasn't happened yet-" what he wasn't even sure he wanted to happen "-will matter to you now. I can tell from the look on your face." So, with that, he let his gaze slip up to Dylan's face. And then he did what would otherwise be unthinkable. He almost needed to see if, whatever had been done, had actually broken Dylan.
"Put it away or shoot me in the back. It's your call." And with his hands still clasped behind his back he turned on him to continue down the corridor. But it made him grind his teeth, a risk that rubbed him the wrong way and ate at him. He was a fool, an idiot. If he shot him in the back for such a moronic risk he would deserve to be removed from the gene pool.
If he didn't, at least he would have given the man he betrayed his space. Because despite some Nietzschean traits, Dylan wasn't Nietzschean. He wouldn't understand, and he didn't think he would be able to explain it.
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But still he was reluctant, at this point, to pull his weapon on his friend.
"Put it away. We're not aboard the Andromeda and it would do no good here. Revenge is my prerogative, not yours." He didn't move. Not a hair. Not an inch. Not a sigh. Not a breath beyond what he needed to make words. He was intent and ready for defense.
"And I don't suspect anything that I say about what hasn't happened yet-" what he wasn't even sure he wanted to happen "-will matter to you now. I can tell from the look on your face." So, with that, he let his gaze slip up to Dylan's face. And then he did what would otherwise be unthinkable. He almost needed to see if, whatever had been done, had actually broken Dylan.
"Put it away or shoot me in the back. It's your call." And with his hands still clasped behind his back he turned on him to continue down the corridor. But it made him grind his teeth, a risk that rubbed him the wrong way and ate at him. He was a fool, an idiot. If he shot him in the back for such a moronic risk he would deserve to be removed from the gene pool.
If he didn't, at least he would have given the man he betrayed his space. Because despite some Nietzschean traits, Dylan wasn't Nietzschean. He wouldn't understand, and he didn't think he would be able to explain it.