Somehow no response was worse than being told to shove off. Valerian's gripped tightened, and he opened his mouth to demand he follow—but then something happened. It took him a split second to recognize that they were apparating, but by the time he'd properly braced himself they had already landed wherever Greengrass had brought him. The first thing he recognized was that he was sitting down, and that the bricks were hard and uneven under his body. They were somewhere in the streets, then, and the side-along apparition had knocked him off his feet. He opened his eyes, and he realized—with a mental sigh of relief—that they were in some alleyway rather than in the middle of the street with a dozen other people.
The next thing he noticed was the searing pain in his arm. He grasped at it, letting out a his a his fingertips pressed into warm, wettened flesh. His gaze dropped down to his arm, and—"Fucking shit," he cursed, not paying attention to Greengrass as he tried to figure out the extent of the splinching under the layer of blood.
The next thing he noticed was the searing pain in his arm. He grasped at it, letting out a his a his fingertips pressed into warm, wettened flesh. His gaze dropped down to his arm, and—"Fucking shit," he cursed, not paying attention to Greengrass as he tried to figure out the extent of the splinching under the layer of blood.
