It's not interesting at all. 0% interesting. It was completely, entirely an accident that just so happened to very much also accidentally keep Ohio alive for a little longer, and it's an accident that OK evidently already regrets if the way he barks out "Don't come back here towards me!" is any indication.
Where else would he go, though?
Preferably somewhere not-close to OK so they can go back to shooting at each other sometimes between rounds of shooting at aliens. He can especially go away if he's going to keep inviting new friends to their clusterfuck. An elite was bad enough, but now a hunter?
There aren't enough stickies in the world for this.
OK lets out a strained sigh, one that becomes even more pained when he catches sight of Ohio wrangling his sniper like that's going to take out a ten thousand pound armored hellbeast. And then there's Lane. OK doesn't know who or what a Lane is, but it can have several seats as well. "Yeah, fuck off, Lane," he snaps. He's aware that 'Lane' likely won't even hear him, but those are his feelings on the matter, regardless.
"Can you kill that thing or what?" He shifts his weight anxiously, every nerve in his body screaming hurry up hurry up move move move because it's fucking coming and it has a cannon. He's on pins and needles, ready to dart out and swing wide around the hunter at a moment's notice for a clear shot at the exposed meaty bits of its side or back. But he's not going to bother losing his cover, pissing it off, and having it focus on him if Ohio isn't going to at least shoot the absolute shit out of it.
no subject
Where else would he go, though?
Preferably somewhere not-close to OK so they can go back to shooting at each other sometimes between rounds of shooting at aliens. He can especially go away if he's going to keep inviting new friends to their clusterfuck. An elite was bad enough, but now a hunter?
There aren't enough stickies in the world for this.
OK lets out a strained sigh, one that becomes even more pained when he catches sight of Ohio wrangling his sniper like that's going to take out a ten thousand pound armored hellbeast. And then there's Lane. OK doesn't know who or what a Lane is, but it can have several seats as well. "Yeah, fuck off, Lane," he snaps. He's aware that 'Lane' likely won't even hear him, but those are his feelings on the matter, regardless.
"Can you kill that thing or what?" He shifts his weight anxiously, every nerve in his body screaming hurry up hurry up move move move because it's fucking coming and it has a cannon. He's on pins and needles, ready to dart out and swing wide around the hunter at a moment's notice for a clear shot at the exposed meaty bits of its side or back. But he's not going to bother losing his cover, pissing it off, and having it focus on him if Ohio isn't going to at least shoot the absolute shit out of it.