[Ellie snorts under her breath, her hands in her pockets, feeling at the place where her knife is absent, lingering on the emptiness, the missing-stair wrongness of it. She tilts her head just barely, enough to get Sam's profile in the low light. He's older; his nose has clearly been broken a time or two.
He doesn't look the type for the ring, not compared to the two dudes throwing meaty punches at each other, but then neither does Ellie.]
Assuming your legs are still working enough to walk.
Doesn't look like it's to the death, though.
[She doesn't sound disappointed by that, but not relieved, either. Just... mapping it out.]
what movie? clearly not.
He doesn't look the type for the ring, not compared to the two dudes throwing meaty punches at each other, but then neither does Ellie.]
Assuming your legs are still working enough to walk.
Doesn't look like it's to the death, though.
[She doesn't sound disappointed by that, but not relieved, either. Just... mapping it out.]