✋
Being stuck in the Nomad for three hours will make anyone cranky. Especially a Vetra with a Peebee of whom maybe, possibly uses stories, jokes and the like as coping methods for what may or may not be Ryder’s bile-inducing driving. She had even counted the amount of times Peebee had opened her mouth five to ten seconds after a particularly steep drive, as if trying to ease what was the blatant car-sickness that crept up upon Vetra’s face.
It didn’t help. So maybe, maybe she’s a little sour even now.
Peebee is calling her name, trying to get her attention, and she can practically feel herself bristle, a few seconds away from insisting for a moment to get her bearings, but it’s not even a moment before there’s a hand wrapped around hers, wrenching her into the snow —
❛ Shit! ❜
— and sending a plume of white around the both of them.
Just before the bristling can metamorphasize into anything more, the Asari is pointing a finger towards the horizon— more important, to the silhouette against the sun of a Kett toting a sniper rifle.
❛ Oh. ❜
Well, that’s embarrassing.
❛ Um. ❜
She glances down at their hands… More specfically, the iron grip hers has around Peebee’s. There’s a BANG in the distance from Ryder’s gun, the distant splatter of an exploding skull and the confirmation of a dead threat.
“You can let go now.”
❛ …Uh. Right. Sorry. ❜
hold vetra’s hand ✋
