[ This is basically the closest thing to a hello either of them are going to get, at least for the next little while: standing a touch too close and sizing each other up as they assess the situation at the same time. No offense taken by it, considering she does the same in return — notes his build and his posture and the familiar-unfamiliar divots on his face that each come with a story. He'd more than likely have the upper hand if she can't maintain her distance. His close proximity to their opponents will give her plenty of blind spots to exploit. The two of them have never fought together, but the lack of hesitation on his part means that her trust comes just as quickly, without a second thought.
( They may as well have shaken on it. )
On Marc's cue, Lucina takes a step back. Keeps her back to the opposite wall as she gives him the room he needs. There's probably a part of her that'll be mortified at how quickly they resorted to property destruction, but the urgency now means she's not thinking about it. The possibility it could save a life outweighs some broken hinges or splintered wood — the shame will only set in if whoever is inside didn't need any help after all.
Which, speaking of: she doesn't flinch when his foot meets the door, nor when that seems to do the trick and the door swings abruptly to the other end and crashes against the wall. She is right behind him in an instant, eyes narrow as she tries to make out the shapes inside. It looks empty at first glance — there's the vague shape of a bed, a table, and an open window.
— And the flash of something darting from the doorway, aimed right for Marc. ] Your right! [ As she begins to unsheathe her sword. ]
no subject
( They may as well have shaken on it. )
On Marc's cue, Lucina takes a step back. Keeps her back to the opposite wall as she gives him the room he needs. There's probably a part of her that'll be mortified at how quickly they resorted to property destruction, but the urgency now means she's not thinking about it. The possibility it could save a life outweighs some broken hinges or splintered wood — the shame will only set in if whoever is inside didn't need any help after all.
Which, speaking of: she doesn't flinch when his foot meets the door, nor when that seems to do the trick and the door swings abruptly to the other end and crashes against the wall. She is right behind him in an instant, eyes narrow as she tries to make out the shapes inside. It looks empty at first glance — there's the vague shape of a bed, a table, and an open window.
— And the flash of something darting from the doorway, aimed right for Marc. ] Your right! [ As she begins to unsheathe her sword. ]