[ Behind his visor, Boba raises an eyebrow at the sound of acid hissing against armor. It doesn't look like it will be able to eat all the way through the metal of the man's pauldron any time soon. Still, Boba can only imagine the effect it would have on skin. ]
Should've brought two, [ he remarks of the umbrella and there's a hint of amusement in his voice. While most would find navigating an acid-trapped sewer to be a stressful experience, Boba finds that he's missed this sense of danger, of purpose. It's not relaxing by any stretch of the imagination, but it is... familiar in a way very few things over the past few years have been.
It helps that he's not the one who has to deal with acid slowly chewing through his armor. Of course, he doesn't intend to let himself become distracted from their objective: reach the entrance to The Ring and hack the broadcast—or, more accurately, provide protection while his partner hacks it.
At the other man's mark, he gets ready to move again, one hand reaching up for the sliding mechanism of the umbrella. Another second passes and then—
—the spray stops and the race for the finish begins once more.
It isn't long before they settle into a rhythm. Run, signal, stop, repeat. Each time, they become a little more practiced, a little more precise. By the time they finally reach the basement door, Boba hardly needs to hear the other man's warning to know the moment the spray will start. The timing has nearly become instinct.
It means he knows they have time when they reach the basement entrance. The door is nestled into an alcove, shielded from the acid spray and flanked by a small numbered panel, presumably for a security code. Boba stops by the alcove's side and motions the other man inside with a jerk of his head. ]
This looks like your specialty.
[ Boba could probably figure it out with enough time. But if he has a supposed hacking expert with him, he may as well make use of him. ]
no subject
Should've brought two, [ he remarks of the umbrella and there's a hint of amusement in his voice. While most would find navigating an acid-trapped sewer to be a stressful experience, Boba finds that he's missed this sense of danger, of purpose. It's not relaxing by any stretch of the imagination, but it is... familiar in a way very few things over the past few years have been.
It helps that he's not the one who has to deal with acid slowly chewing through his armor. Of course, he doesn't intend to let himself become distracted from their objective: reach the entrance to The Ring and hack the broadcast—or, more accurately, provide protection while his partner hacks it.
At the other man's mark, he gets ready to move again, one hand reaching up for the sliding mechanism of the umbrella. Another second passes and then—
—the spray stops and the race for the finish begins once more.
It isn't long before they settle into a rhythm. Run, signal, stop, repeat. Each time, they become a little more practiced, a little more precise. By the time they finally reach the basement door, Boba hardly needs to hear the other man's warning to know the moment the spray will start. The timing has nearly become instinct.
It means he knows they have time when they reach the basement entrance. The door is nestled into an alcove, shielded from the acid spray and flanked by a small numbered panel, presumably for a security code. Boba stops by the alcove's side and motions the other man inside with a jerk of his head. ]
This looks like your specialty.
[ Boba could probably figure it out with enough time. But if he has a supposed hacking expert with him, he may as well make use of him. ]