[Chrissy takes to this so well, it's not only endearing but genuinely helpful. Man, and to think he was afraid at first that she'd flee at the first sign of trouble, way back when they first met. He hefts the rock in his hand, then shuffles sideways a little, digging his heel into that soft space between ribs and stomach to keep Kip from trying to move around too much, because he's pretty sure the moment he starts in, the guy is going to scream and howl and try to fight back. Broken knee's gotta hurt like hell.
Kip hisses a breath through his teeth, clearly already anticipating that, as he continues to plead.]
You fight back an' she shoots you.
[That's the only warning he gets before he hammers that rock hard down onto Kip's right kneecap. He really needs a hammer for this sort of thing, because the force of the rock against his hand and wrist is kind of jarring. Needs earplugs, too, actually, because the scream-howl of pain as Kip writhes is annoying as all fuck. They should've gagged him, but whatever. He doesn't want to ask Chrissy to do that when having the gun trained on the guy is more important.
Johnnie forcibly keeps Kip in place with that heel against his stomach and hammers again and again with the rock until the blows feel softer, like the bone has cracked and shattered enough for muscle and sinew to start absorbing the hits, and the knees of his pants are wet with blood through the black fabric. Kip is moaning, but his movements are slow and meaningless, his body in shock at the pain. Johnnie tosses the rock aside, and heads toward the desk, giving Chrissy a pat on the knee.]
Thanks. All right, you got his radio, you think this is a phone? Don't want him crawling over here to call out any time soon.
[He picks up the little metallic device still on the desk and flips it open. It's not like any phone he's seen, but it has three letters per number, and that part is familiar.]
no subject
[Chrissy takes to this so well, it's not only endearing but genuinely helpful. Man, and to think he was afraid at first that she'd flee at the first sign of trouble, way back when they first met. He hefts the rock in his hand, then shuffles sideways a little, digging his heel into that soft space between ribs and stomach to keep Kip from trying to move around too much, because he's pretty sure the moment he starts in, the guy is going to scream and howl and try to fight back. Broken knee's gotta hurt like hell.
Kip hisses a breath through his teeth, clearly already anticipating that, as he continues to plead.]
You fight back an' she shoots you.
[That's the only warning he gets before he hammers that rock hard down onto Kip's right kneecap. He really needs a hammer for this sort of thing, because the force of the rock against his hand and wrist is kind of jarring. Needs earplugs, too, actually, because the scream-howl of pain as Kip writhes is annoying as all fuck. They should've gagged him, but whatever. He doesn't want to ask Chrissy to do that when having the gun trained on the guy is more important.
Johnnie forcibly keeps Kip in place with that heel against his stomach and hammers again and again with the rock until the blows feel softer, like the bone has cracked and shattered enough for muscle and sinew to start absorbing the hits, and the knees of his pants are wet with blood through the black fabric. Kip is moaning, but his movements are slow and meaningless, his body in shock at the pain. Johnnie tosses the rock aside, and heads toward the desk, giving Chrissy a pat on the knee.]
Thanks. All right, you got his radio, you think this is a phone? Don't want him crawling over here to call out any time soon.
[He picks up the little metallic device still on the desk and flips it open. It's not like any phone he's seen, but it has three letters per number, and that part is familiar.]