He expected a dodge or even for a hand to whip up and clamp around his wrist, then pull it tight like he was to reprimand a misbehaving child; a stray dog and a hooligan, like he started out as. Getting the punch off is however entirely satisfying. It makes his knuckles sting with pain and gives solidarity to the phantom of a man standing before him.
"Guess you did." Now McCree isn't sure how to feel. He took that tap willingly. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised." Oddly, he's not. Not at this.
"You're supposed to be dead." Like he didn't know. "What in the hell happened to you?"
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"Guess you did." Now McCree isn't sure how to feel. He took that tap willingly. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised." Oddly, he's not. Not at this.
"You're supposed to be dead." Like he didn't know. "What in the hell happened to you?"