[ A couple feet past Metzger's shoulder would be Bill Cage, who has by now turned his attention back to the man hanging from his ankles. Not a great deal younger than the man in the fore. The usual news anchor swoop of dark hair is ruffled and damp from humidity and sticking to his brow, but the rest of him seems precise, including the crescent smile broadcasted to Quill, the stamp of lines that crease at the corners of his eyes.
Friendly, for all that he seems completely complicit in Quill's predicament. He is armed, relaxed, sharply watchful. ]
Hanging in there?
[ His tone manages to achieve a balance between wry and apologetic. It's a tone that promises we'll get you down from there soon.
no subject
Friendly, for all that he seems completely complicit in Quill's predicament. He is armed, relaxed, sharply watchful. ]
Hanging in there?
[ His tone manages to achieve a balance between wry and apologetic. It's a tone that promises we'll get you down from there soon.
Probably. One way or another. ]