[And he does follow along, not quite so distracted that he lets himself forget to actually follow her instead of preempting each step, but close. If he doesn't know how lucky he is, it's difficult to tell just to look at him, but he's careful not to cross the line as he knows it into actually being aggravating about this.
His empty clip clicks back into place with a satisfied nod, both affirming that he's heard and that he accepts the challenge, teeth flashing again when she touches him.]
Yes, ma'am. [He can't help the way the words sound in his voice, engraved there through repetition when he can change the rest of himself to suit whatever he wants, so he slathers on the cocky tease of it and leaves to get more ammunition before he can be called on it.
By the time he returns - successful, in fact, at loading it himself - he's looking down his impromptu lane at his mostly untouched target, eyebrows raised.]
no subject
His empty clip clicks back into place with a satisfied nod, both affirming that he's heard and that he accepts the challenge, teeth flashing again when she touches him.]
Yes, ma'am. [He can't help the way the words sound in his voice, engraved there through repetition when he can change the rest of himself to suit whatever he wants, so he slathers on the cocky tease of it and leaves to get more ammunition before he can be called on it.
By the time he returns - successful, in fact, at loading it himself - he's looking down his impromptu lane at his mostly untouched target, eyebrows raised.]
So. What's a bullseye get me?