MOVE, HOT ROD // ESCAPE ATTEMPT

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Really? The whole point of pushing the guy was to get whoever followed distracted with being a good Samaritan, but Butch shouldn't have expected them to act like normal people. Like Val. The thought spurred him to run faster, kicking up sand and breathing heavily, but over the rushing blood in his ears he could hear steps behind, and the border collie crashed when a sudden weight pressed him flat. There were jaws around his neck, and he waited for teeth to puncture, to watch his own blood seep into the sand, though after a few seconds, when nothing happened, he started breathing again. "You coulda hauled him outta there," Butch shot back, vitriolic, struggling now that he wasn't as convinced he was about to die. Catching a slave was more important than covering a buddy's ass, was it? And here Butch thought he was easily replaceable. Maybe he still had a chance- except he didn't know what the hell he could do from this position, and against someone so much larger than he was. Who woulda known despair was such an effective meal replacement?

Pawsteps nearby. Butch couldn't really see with his face mushed into the sand, who had a bit of faith in whatever schmuck the collie pushed. And he supported the idea of killing Tsuyu, like Butch had the luck to manage it; she'd probably wake up before he got anywhere and nail him to the wall. "How 'bout I consult you next time, then, dip stick?" More useless squirming. "Whatever you've got designs on, just get it over with before I suffocate."