[He's got one alien, recently unconscious, by the front collar of his shirt and is just about to sweep it around and into another when -
everyone stops. Shiro does too. Things get very quiet, very quickly and he doesn't think that's a good sign, already turning his head to spot Lance and plot out the fastest route to the other paladin and then out an exit if he has to make one with his hand.
And then the cheering starts.
Shiro's head snaps back around and for a second -
for a second he smells the tang of cold metal. Old blood and bile. Sweat and fear. Hears the pulsing hunger of a crowd of nightmares in the cheer. Tastes revulsion and rage in the back of his throat.
But - no. No, there's only alcohol and sweat and too many bodies and dirt and dusty wood smell in the air and the cheering isn't from above, its from around him. The first person that slaps his shoulder almost loses their hand because he only stops his nerves from reacting in the split second before it but the next hearty slap is a bit more expected and then they just keep coming, rocking him slightly but easily obvious that they're not to hurt. He doesn't quite get what he's done yet but its obviously something and he gently lowers the body he was holding to the ground before straightening. The attention makes him uncomfortable, for a lot of reasons and so he turns his head, trying to see through the suddenly friendly mass around him that seems to be in the process of arguing over who's going to buy him a drink for his teammate. He's not able to move through the tight packed crowd at the moment but - ]
I think papercuts would be kind at this point -also nice Lance, doing the upside down wave for Shiro
everyone stops. Shiro does too. Things get very quiet, very quickly and he doesn't think that's a good sign, already turning his head to spot Lance and plot out the fastest route to the other paladin and then out an exit if he has to make one with his hand.
And then the cheering starts.
Shiro's head snaps back around and for a second -
for a second he smells the tang of cold metal. Old blood and bile. Sweat and fear. Hears the pulsing hunger of a crowd of nightmares in the cheer. Tastes revulsion and rage in the back of his throat.
But - no. No, there's only alcohol and sweat and too many bodies and dirt and dusty wood smell in the air and the cheering isn't from above, its from around him. The first person that slaps his shoulder almost loses their hand because he only stops his nerves from reacting in the split second before it but the next hearty slap is a bit more expected and then they just keep coming, rocking him slightly but easily obvious that they're not to hurt. He doesn't quite get what he's done yet but its obviously something and he gently lowers the body he was holding to the ground before straightening. The attention makes him uncomfortable, for a lot of reasons and so he turns his head, trying to see through the suddenly friendly mass around him that seems to be in the process of arguing over who's going to buy him a drink for his teammate. He's not able to move through the tight packed crowd at the moment but - ]
Lance -