Leo accepts the abandonment of his plan without a fuss, silently tucking the knife back against his wrist. At least they tried. He'll just have to come up with something else... but he regrets losing this window of opportunity. Their captors wouldn't have expected it at all; sending Raph out there would have worked, he's sure of it.
But now his leg hurts abominably from bracing his position; awkwardly, fighting his off-kilter sense of balance, he pushes himself to sit upright with his three uninjured limbs. His bum leg drags and he leaves it stretched out; it's not broken anywhere and he's pretty sure the bleeding has stopped, but the soft tissue damage is pretty nasty: an angled scrape on his thigh and a deep, blunt gouge on his calf - plus dragging scores down to his ankle from pulling himself free, but those are shallow - all underlaid with intense bruising. It had been a heavy wall; Leo can't see details in the dim light, but heat radiating from the bruises tells him they're still forming. He'll be fine, but he needs healing time, possibly stitches; and it really, really hurts.
Oh, good. Now Raph has a bug up his shell about the plan that won't even work. Precisely what he needed. Leo glares at his brother, just barely visible in colorless silhouette from the sparse light admitted by cracks in the van door. This isn't the time or place for an argument, but Leo has no information or resources to formulate a better plan just yet and his own temper flares. He's doing his best under insane pressure, and this is what he gets for his trouble?
"You think I WANT to stay here? I'm trying to make the best decision - for both of us! If I have to take a hit for the mission to succeed, I make that call. It's MY responsibility." Especially when his current condition imposes a liability, and stopping to help him might leave Raphael with his back unguarded against a single-hit take-down.
no subject
But now his leg hurts abominably from bracing his position; awkwardly, fighting his off-kilter sense of balance, he pushes himself to sit upright with his three uninjured limbs. His bum leg drags and he leaves it stretched out; it's not broken anywhere and he's pretty sure the bleeding has stopped, but the soft tissue damage is pretty nasty: an angled scrape on his thigh and a deep, blunt gouge on his calf - plus dragging scores down to his ankle from pulling himself free, but those are shallow - all underlaid with intense bruising. It had been a heavy wall; Leo can't see details in the dim light, but heat radiating from the bruises tells him they're still forming. He'll be fine, but he needs healing time, possibly stitches; and it really, really hurts.
Oh, good. Now Raph has a bug up his shell about the plan that won't even work. Precisely what he needed. Leo glares at his brother, just barely visible in colorless silhouette from the sparse light admitted by cracks in the van door. This isn't the time or place for an argument, but Leo has no information or resources to formulate a better plan just yet and his own temper flares. He's doing his best under insane pressure, and this is what he gets for his trouble?
"You think I WANT to stay here? I'm trying to make the best decision - for both of us! If I have to take a hit for the mission to succeed, I make that call. It's MY responsibility." Especially when his current condition imposes a liability, and stopping to help him might leave Raphael with his back unguarded against a single-hit take-down.