Kabal is all about leaving his partners satisfied, so he'll count this as another win in his little black book.
There's some childlike delight watching that table shatter into little pieces as if it wasn't a heavy metal contraption that even he would have struggled to pick up. Sure that doesn't bode well for the state of his arm because if it can do that to a metal thing, it's probably eating his skin off and turning his blood into icicles. Great, he has to go see the lady in the Medbay again who is probably still annoyed with him after the whole 'good idea touching a generator with his bare hands' thing.
"Wow you talk a lot. More than me and that's saying something." Alive or dead, Kabal is someone who has never shut up even when it was good for him. He has some more witty banter but instead he's peering out from behind his hiding place to watch that cart send this dickbag right down into the floor soup. That's going to take a few showers to get out. And he's about to say something along those lines when Len drops to the floor again.
"Uhm. So about those threats. Are those happening?" He chances actually standing up, ready to dive for cover if that gun is aimed at him, but his sparring buddy doesn't seem to be moving. "Raincheck then."
Walking up to him he prods him with the end of his sword, and then with his foot. Welp, so much for that fight. He sighs heavily and tilts his head up to the ceiling.
"Guess we'll finish this later." He reaches down, grabbing Len's shirt and hauling him up one handed, dumping him in a pile on the counter. "This would be a hell of a lot easier if I had two hands you know. Also you fucking reek."
The gun goes on his back, hanging off with his sword, and Len goes under his arm, leaving a delightful drippy trail of tuna surprise from the kitchen and down the hall. Once back in his room he secures the door, hides the gun, and fills the tub with water before unceremoniously dumping Len in it.
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There's some childlike delight watching that table shatter into little pieces as if it wasn't a heavy metal contraption that even he would have struggled to pick up. Sure that doesn't bode well for the state of his arm because if it can do that to a metal thing, it's probably eating his skin off and turning his blood into icicles. Great, he has to go see the lady in the Medbay again who is probably still annoyed with him after the whole 'good idea touching a generator with his bare hands' thing.
"Wow you talk a lot. More than me and that's saying something." Alive or dead, Kabal is someone who has never shut up even when it was good for him. He has some more witty banter but instead he's peering out from behind his hiding place to watch that cart send this dickbag right down into the floor soup. That's going to take a few showers to get out. And he's about to say something along those lines when Len drops to the floor again.
"Uhm. So about those threats. Are those happening?" He chances actually standing up, ready to dive for cover if that gun is aimed at him, but his sparring buddy doesn't seem to be moving. "Raincheck then."
Walking up to him he prods him with the end of his sword, and then with his foot. Welp, so much for that fight. He sighs heavily and tilts his head up to the ceiling.
"Guess we'll finish this later." He reaches down, grabbing Len's shirt and hauling him up one handed, dumping him in a pile on the counter. "This would be a hell of a lot easier if I had two hands you know. Also you fucking reek."
The gun goes on his back, hanging off with his sword, and Len goes under his arm, leaving a delightful drippy trail of tuna surprise from the kitchen and down the hall. Once back in his room he secures the door, hides the gun, and fills the tub with water before unceremoniously dumping Len in it.
"Wakey wakey."