[Having been about to hack one of those nurses to pieces (because at long last he's got an effective weapon which makes sense), Sylvain sort of hesitates- still running, they're still going. He's got decent reaction time, especially to things like shouted advice and called out warnings - years of war had refined it, honed it to a precise point.
Not being able to react quickly enough tended to end badly, after all. "Move, a wyvern's about to sit on you!" And if you didn't, bam, at best you're looking at wyvern farts aimed at your head.
So Sylvain's running, with the same energy of someone who was spoiling for a fight at work before their boss unexpectedly capitulated, and now they have energy and nowhere else to go.]
Okay?
[Dramatically running. The nurses are shambling.]
Is there a safe room? [With his free hand, not the one preoccupied with the battleaxe, he gestures at the general ambiance which is a bit spooky. Christmas has yet to invade; the place is all Halloween.]
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Not being able to react quickly enough tended to end badly, after all. "Move, a wyvern's about to sit on you!" And if you didn't, bam, at best you're looking at wyvern farts aimed at your head.
So Sylvain's running, with the same energy of someone who was spoiling for a fight at work before their boss unexpectedly capitulated, and now they have energy and nowhere else to go.]
Okay?
[Dramatically running. The nurses are shambling.]
Is there a safe room? [With his free hand, not the one preoccupied with the battleaxe, he gestures at the general ambiance which is a bit spooky. Christmas has yet to invade; the place is all Halloween.]