What on earth is he talking about? Why is he following them? Greta does glance back at him, now, bewildered and indignant, and as such she has a clear view of him grabbing Iman's arm and twisting her friend out of her grasp. She inhales sharply, horrified. And Iman can't pull away, can't free her arm; he has her as surely as if he'd grabbed her by the hair. Then the man calls her something - several somethings - and Greta hasn't a clue what they mean, but she can tell it's something awful by the way Iman responds to it.
Why is this happening? Haven't they earned a little peace? Hasn't Iman been through enough?
Greta's gaze hardens, and she puffs up like an outraged cat. First ROMAC, then the Rift, and now some--some rogue has the nerve to accost them for no reason other than the fact that he can. She won't stand for it.
"How dare you?" she snaps, seizing the man's wrist, digging in her fingernails for good measure, and pulling Iman's arm out of his grasp. It's not difficult; he loosens his hold in surprise the moment she grabs him.
"Christ!" he objects, wrenching himself free and stumbling back a step. A coward, then; well, of course he is. They're drawing looks from passers-by, now, which is probably what prompts him to add, "I barely touched her!"
Greta advances on him, cold and furious, forcing him back another step. "You grabbed her, you loathsome excuse for a man!" More people are staring. Good. Let him feel besieged, the scoundrel. "Why don't you--"
She lifts her arm to gesture towards him, sharp and aggressive and dismissive, and she doesn't even see the pigeon taking off from the sidewalk, but she somehow manages to strike the poor bird squarely and send it, flapping and burbling, right into the man's face. She starts back in surprise, then decides this is as good an opportunity for escape as any, turns on her heel, and rushes back to Iman. "Quickly," she advises in a strained, sing-song undertone, nudging her along with a hand on her back.
tw for some mild violence against a gross dude and also a pigeon
Why is this happening? Haven't they earned a little peace? Hasn't Iman been through enough?
Greta's gaze hardens, and she puffs up like an outraged cat. First ROMAC, then the Rift, and now some--some rogue has the nerve to accost them for no reason other than the fact that he can. She won't stand for it.
"How dare you?" she snaps, seizing the man's wrist, digging in her fingernails for good measure, and pulling Iman's arm out of his grasp. It's not difficult; he loosens his hold in surprise the moment she grabs him.
"Christ!" he objects, wrenching himself free and stumbling back a step. A coward, then; well, of course he is. They're drawing looks from passers-by, now, which is probably what prompts him to add, "I barely touched her!"
Greta advances on him, cold and furious, forcing him back another step. "You grabbed her, you loathsome excuse for a man!" More people are staring. Good. Let him feel besieged, the scoundrel. "Why don't you--"
She lifts her arm to gesture towards him, sharp and aggressive and dismissive, and she doesn't even see the pigeon taking off from the sidewalk, but she somehow manages to strike the poor bird squarely and send it, flapping and burbling, right into the man's face. She starts back in surprise, then decides this is as good an opportunity for escape as any, turns on her heel, and rushes back to Iman. "Quickly," she advises in a strained, sing-song undertone, nudging her along with a hand on her back.