Liadov sank down onto one of the wooden benches, resting his hand on the wall. He hadn't known this Ocelot, and honestly he couldn't see him all that well. His vision was blurred, but even compromised as he was, he knew the familiar shape of one prone object better than almost anything.
"Gun," he managed, with an unsteady wave of his hand. "Over by the locker bay."
He breathed a few times, closed and opened his eyes. He could feel the cold sweat on his brow but he forced himself to hold his head up.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-06-29 06:43 pm (UTC)"Gun," he managed, with an unsteady wave of his hand. "Over by the locker bay."
He breathed a few times, closed and opened his eyes. He could feel the cold sweat on his brow but he forced himself to hold his head up.
"He had his sidearm out. He saw the killer."