[To Tommy, the reaction to protect her beneath him from the small, if not controlled, shrapnel, is just as knee-jerk as the move to bowl her out of harm's way. (You don't pull people in danger, the body's instinct is to say no so you make yourself as much of a force as what's coming for them.) It leaves him rucked up around Eddie against the stage, a human shield, noses inches from each other when it's over and people start yelling, his hand splayed against her exposed side having drawn her in close. His nerves are all firing in the right way as he stares down at her for few forever heartbeats it takes for other hands to reach down and pull them to their feet, but once he's standing he starts feeling like there's a one-man pyrotechnics show underneath his skin. Something warmer than the rain dribbles down the back of his neck and Tommy kinda wishes it hurt because it would help him focus.
Someone's hand is on his shoulder, fighting for his attention, and Tommy knocks it away a little too hard before apologizing and shaking his head. He's fine. Fine. He looks at the scattered remains of the fresnal on the ground, a few feet away. Up to the scaffold, where a couple sets of wide eyes stare back. His hand forms an A-OK without his brain's conscious consent.
She'd been jokingly cavalier about the danger of performing in the parking lot, but here they are, and...] Chica? [Tommy moves away from the touch of someone saying something about the back of his neck and finds Eddie still close, surrounded by a small crush of bearded men, Terry doing his best to move people back and give them space while confirming that everything else up top is locked down tight. Tommy steps in slow, like she might bolt from him.] Hey - you good?
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Someone's hand is on his shoulder, fighting for his attention, and Tommy knocks it away a little too hard before apologizing and shaking his head. He's fine. Fine. He looks at the scattered remains of the fresnal on the ground, a few feet away. Up to the scaffold, where a couple sets of wide eyes stare back. His hand forms an A-OK without his brain's conscious consent.
She'd been jokingly cavalier about the danger of performing in the parking lot, but here they are, and...] Chica? [Tommy moves away from the touch of someone saying something about the back of his neck and finds Eddie still close, surrounded by a small crush of bearded men, Terry doing his best to move people back and give them space while confirming that everything else up top is locked down tight. Tommy steps in slow, like she might bolt from him.] Hey - you good?