[Hack, slash, slash and hack. Roxas focuses on the repetitive movements. He's on his feet so he can't stop. Blood drips onto the deck, leaving a trail as he pushes from person to person. A gunshot isn't like a cut, he can't just close it up without looking at it, but he's busy. Every time his arm brushes his side, blood smears onto his arm.
He takes a couple of heavy breaths. There can't be that many more. They're almost done. He can do this.]
no subject
He takes a couple of heavy breaths. There can't be that many more. They're almost done. He can do this.]