04-07-2019, 08:47 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 400px; padding: 1px; text-align: justify; color: #4B3E2D; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11pt; font-family:timesnewroman"]"speech" 'thought' text
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion
Truth be told, at that moment in time, Mike couldn't care less if Cat had died, however, as his eyes strayed towards the bedraggled figure of Creed, his heart skipped a beat, and the color he saw was predominantly red. Cat had put Creed in danger, he didn't want to wait until Cat said anything, his instincts were telling him to lunge at the leader, grab them by the throat, and lift them off the ground.
It took several deep breaths and clenching and unclenching his fists to calm him enough to even listen to what Cat had to say, how they explained this... Creed could have died, she looked like shit already, and while Mike didn't know what had happened, it was obvious that the young woman had been through shit as well, which was something that the man never wished upon her. She had been through so much already, she deserved a break.
Shifting uneasily he clenched his jaw, looking at Cat with slightly narrowed eyes as the leader explained what had happened, it took quite a lot of will power for him not to interrupt then and there, going after the Insurrection with two untrained (well Creed was trained,) persons was a stupid, terrible, fucked up idea, and the fact that either of them had agreed to do it was infuriating.
While Mike should probably have been angry at Creed, he channeled all the anger and fear of loosing Creed into a strong dislike of Cat, and as Cat paused asking if there were any questions, the man interjected. "You did what? Are you a fucking idiot? Do you have a fucking death wish? Dragging Creed along on this suicide mission? You're-." His voice was was raised, his chest tight, and though he was able to cut himself off before saying anything he couldn't take back, he felt the need to wrap his hands around Cat's neck and slowly squeeze the life out of them.
His nails dug into his palm, knuckles white from the pressure he was exposing them to with his clenched fists. The only thing grounding him in the moment, keeping him from losing his cool entirely, was the sharp pain in his hands.
tw: mentions alcohol, blood, profanity, violence, religion
Truth be told, at that moment in time, Mike couldn't care less if Cat had died, however, as his eyes strayed towards the bedraggled figure of Creed, his heart skipped a beat, and the color he saw was predominantly red. Cat had put Creed in danger, he didn't want to wait until Cat said anything, his instincts were telling him to lunge at the leader, grab them by the throat, and lift them off the ground.
It took several deep breaths and clenching and unclenching his fists to calm him enough to even listen to what Cat had to say, how they explained this... Creed could have died, she looked like shit already, and while Mike didn't know what had happened, it was obvious that the young woman had been through shit as well, which was something that the man never wished upon her. She had been through so much already, she deserved a break.
Shifting uneasily he clenched his jaw, looking at Cat with slightly narrowed eyes as the leader explained what had happened, it took quite a lot of will power for him not to interrupt then and there, going after the Insurrection with two untrained (well Creed was trained,) persons was a stupid, terrible, fucked up idea, and the fact that either of them had agreed to do it was infuriating.
While Mike should probably have been angry at Creed, he channeled all the anger and fear of loosing Creed into a strong dislike of Cat, and as Cat paused asking if there were any questions, the man interjected. "You did what? Are you a fucking idiot? Do you have a fucking death wish? Dragging Creed along on this suicide mission? You're-." His voice was was raised, his chest tight, and though he was able to cut himself off before saying anything he couldn't take back, he felt the need to wrap his hands around Cat's neck and slowly squeeze the life out of them.
His nails dug into his palm, knuckles white from the pressure he was exposing them to with his clenched fists. The only thing grounding him in the moment, keeping him from losing his cool entirely, was the sharp pain in his hands.
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MICHAEL FORD
Michael Ford is a 45 year old, man, he's stubbornly loyal to whatever cause he chooses, protective of his family and friends, he's a member of the Badlands. Michael has issues controlling his anger in most situations. He is a difficult opponent and well trained, feel free to power play nonviolent interactions though.