Conveniently, neither of them questioned or argued with him. That certainly saved some time. And conveniently, they both seemed capable of distracting the terrorist and surviving the attempt, Marinette disappearing up into the rafters with some impressive acrobatics and the other boy simply dashing off quicker than his eyes could follow.
For his part, Saralegui remained crouched behind his bench, suddenly feeling a bit pathetic in comparison. It was a short-lived feeling, one he was quick to mentally smother with the reminder that he didn't need such talents. But still, it certainly hammered in that sense of uselessness, stuck hidden for safety while others went to face these threats head on.
Catching sight of Marinette's gesturing, he set his jaw and made a move towards the pylons she indicated--
--only to duck right back behind the bench for cover as one of those concussive blasts pulsed out. The bench rocked back heavily under the force of it, jarring the shoulder Saralegui had set against it, but mercifully held together. With a soft curse, he peeked out over the top of it to count the seconds between the pulses, ducking back down at the next one.
He really didn't fancy taking one of those blasts directly, and he didn't like his chances of reaching closer cover in time. Watching the others dodge it all so elegantly, that feeling of inadequacy bubbled up again, tight in his throat, and he had to force it back down with the cool rationale that there was no time for such sulking here. He'd just have to figure something else out.
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For his part, Saralegui remained crouched behind his bench, suddenly feeling a bit pathetic in comparison. It was a short-lived feeling, one he was quick to mentally smother with the reminder that he didn't need such talents. But still, it certainly hammered in that sense of uselessness, stuck hidden for safety while others went to face these threats head on.
Catching sight of Marinette's gesturing, he set his jaw and made a move towards the pylons she indicated--
--only to duck right back behind the bench for cover as one of those concussive blasts pulsed out. The bench rocked back heavily under the force of it, jarring the shoulder Saralegui had set against it, but mercifully held together. With a soft curse, he peeked out over the top of it to count the seconds between the pulses, ducking back down at the next one.
He really didn't fancy taking one of those blasts directly, and he didn't like his chances of reaching closer cover in time. Watching the others dodge it all so elegantly, that feeling of inadequacy bubbled up again, tight in his throat, and he had to force it back down with the cool rationale that there was no time for such sulking here. He'd just have to figure something else out.