Deacon is moving, then, like a dog let off the leash, cigarette pitched aside and chasing as easily as if he were born to do so. He is also, notably, fast - there's a moment where his shape almost blurs around the edges, but it's not energy he is going to waste on the likes of his employee, and simply subscribes to an animalistic level of speed, preternatural when fit into a human frame, rather than going into true bullet time.
It is altogether possible he catches up, and grabs a hold of Mitchell's jacket, and flings him into the wall. Unless Mitchell possesses his own cheetah-like speed bursts. Then it just might take Frost a little longer.
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"Mitch-- for fuck's sake."
Deacon is moving, then, like a dog let off the leash, cigarette pitched aside and chasing as easily as if he were born to do so. He is also, notably, fast - there's a moment where his shape almost blurs around the edges, but it's not energy he is going to waste on the likes of his employee, and simply subscribes to an animalistic level of speed, preternatural when fit into a human frame, rather than going into true bullet time.
It is altogether possible he catches up, and grabs a hold of Mitchell's jacket, and flings him into the wall. Unless Mitchell possesses his own cheetah-like speed bursts. Then it just might take Frost a little longer.