[ anger is fresh and cutting, and silva's skin is crawling with it, the frustration of a plan gone awry because of (admittedly unsurprising) interference—and his own hesitation, the split-second of i have her, i have her, i—
he could have shot her in the head, bang, a neat little hole right between her eyes. he could have ended it. but he didn't, not fast enough, and the thought gets stuck in his throat as he leaves the carnage immediately, drops the magazine on the cold hard whitehall steps, inserts another into the glock from an inside pocket of the police uniform. silva's had plenty of time to practice crystallising his temper, cooling it down until it's ice-sharp, but this disappointment is still hot. he doesn't check corners, only moves with determination toward the exit point: get out, don't make a sound, retreat to safety before the next move.
so it's only when he reaches the vehicle that he catches movement at the corner of his eye. a split-second later, he flings open the car door, crouches behind it, before taking aim and firing a warning shot at the flash of motion following him. ]
no subject
he could have shot her in the head, bang, a neat little hole right between her eyes. he could have ended it. but he didn't, not fast enough, and the thought gets stuck in his throat as he leaves the carnage immediately, drops the magazine on the cold hard whitehall steps, inserts another into the glock from an inside pocket of the police uniform. silva's had plenty of time to practice crystallising his temper, cooling it down until it's ice-sharp, but this disappointment is still hot. he doesn't check corners, only moves with determination toward the exit point: get out, don't make a sound, retreat to safety before the next move.
so it's only when he reaches the vehicle that he catches movement at the corner of his eye. a split-second later, he flings open the car door, crouches behind it, before taking aim and firing a warning shot at the flash of motion following him. ]