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*He has been up all night, though it's not like you can tell the time of day out here where the sky is always dark. Raph has already reset the traps on the roof. Nothing as lethal as he'd like, but they'll have to do. The roof is now littered with well concealed exploding candies and firecrackers courtesy of the Weasley Twins.
All his weapons are newly sharpened, and neatly organzied on the bed. The new body doesn't allow for as many concealed weapons as he'd like, but as Master Splinter always told them, the only weapon a ninja really needs is himself.
Fight as he may, he can't keep the events from the night before from replaying in the back of his mind.
The kiss at the lake. He berates himself for being stupid. He knows that Fleur doesn't think of him that way. He knows he doesn't think of her ... crap. Where the hell did that come from? He's 20 years old. Isn't that just a little too old for a security blanket? But, it was so easy. So easy to hide from himself in her arms. He'd wake up in the throws of a terrible nightmare, to find her draped around him, expecting nothing, but offering everything. He hadn't meant to play the hero. He never means to play the hero, not intentionally, it only brings trouble.
So comfortable. So happy. And then he walked in and took that away. People gathering supplies don't wear vests made of explosives. People with the wrong sort of death wish do. He should have stopped her from hitting Bernard, maybe then she wouldn't have stopped him from trying. He can still see the smug smile, as if that would distract Raph from seeing the man go for something in his pocket. Please, that's the oldest trick in the book. Pick a random school kid from any Borough, and he'll tell you the same thing.
In truth, Raph doesn't remember picking up the chair. He just knows he had it, and the next thing he's flying through the air. Fleur had done something to stop him. Stop him from wiping that smug look of insanity off Bernard's face. He's not sure what bothers him more. The fact that Fleur stopped him, or the fact that his memory has tiny lapses in it. Just like...
His eyes pass over the wrench. He picks it up, and is comforted by the feel of it in his hands. Nope, not tonight. Tonight we stick to the basics.
He suits up, and carefully crosses the roof, entering the bar through the ceiling. Making no noise, he finds a shadowed spot amid the rafters, and watches.
All his weapons are newly sharpened, and neatly organzied on the bed. The new body doesn't allow for as many concealed weapons as he'd like, but as Master Splinter always told them, the only weapon a ninja really needs is himself.
Fight as he may, he can't keep the events from the night before from replaying in the back of his mind.
The kiss at the lake. He berates himself for being stupid. He knows that Fleur doesn't think of him that way. He knows he doesn't think of her ... crap. Where the hell did that come from? He's 20 years old. Isn't that just a little too old for a security blanket? But, it was so easy. So easy to hide from himself in her arms. He'd wake up in the throws of a terrible nightmare, to find her draped around him, expecting nothing, but offering everything. He hadn't meant to play the hero. He never means to play the hero, not intentionally, it only brings trouble.
So comfortable. So happy. And then he walked in and took that away. People gathering supplies don't wear vests made of explosives. People with the wrong sort of death wish do. He should have stopped her from hitting Bernard, maybe then she wouldn't have stopped him from trying. He can still see the smug smile, as if that would distract Raph from seeing the man go for something in his pocket. Please, that's the oldest trick in the book. Pick a random school kid from any Borough, and he'll tell you the same thing.
In truth, Raph doesn't remember picking up the chair. He just knows he had it, and the next thing he's flying through the air. Fleur had done something to stop him. Stop him from wiping that smug look of insanity off Bernard's face. He's not sure what bothers him more. The fact that Fleur stopped him, or the fact that his memory has tiny lapses in it. Just like...
His eyes pass over the wrench. He picks it up, and is comforted by the feel of it in his hands. Nope, not tonight. Tonight we stick to the basics.
He suits up, and carefully crosses the roof, entering the bar through the ceiling. Making no noise, he finds a shadowed spot amid the rafters, and watches.
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