[ It takes Ephemera a moment to remember he needs to breathe, to let something other than reflex control the moment. Because it's fine, Drake said it's fine and Ephemera trusts him. Drake wouldn't lie, wouldn't tell him to stand down unless it was well and truly safe. The knowledge is foremost in his brain, but the tension of having a stranger - a threat - in his space, who somehow managed to get this close without either of them noticing, hurts even more: a sharp, physical ache in his chest.
Drake is between them now, hands out. Calling for peace.
Ephemera breathes. Exhales sharply. And lowers the pistol. He's perfectly still but has a feeling he'll be shaking in a moment, dealing with the burst of adrenaline that didn't have a place to go. ]
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Drake is between them now, hands out. Calling for peace.
Ephemera breathes. Exhales sharply. And lowers the pistol. He's perfectly still but has a feeling he'll be shaking in a moment, dealing with the burst of adrenaline that didn't have a place to go. ]
What the fuck.
[ It bears repeating, he thinks. ]