I'll handle it. ['Handle' is another nice word for 'kill', apparently, judging from the way he pops out the empty clip of his rifle and loads a new one into it with a practiced, unbothered motion. He's looking toward the direction the runner nods at, listening for its path of movement as it approaches - clumsy, noisily. The good thing about this creatures is at least they think they're the scariest things in the dark - they aren't. They're pretty simple-minded, relying more on numbers than strategy.
He cocks the rifle and doesn't spare the other man another glance just yet, standing with the air of a predator lying in wait.] Yuri Plisetsky. Short, skinny, blond, has a temper. [The scrabbling is getting closer, and he lifts the rifle, staring through the sight.] He's armed, but not enough if he runs into a nest.
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He cocks the rifle and doesn't spare the other man another glance just yet, standing with the air of a predator lying in wait.] Yuri Plisetsky. Short, skinny, blond, has a temper. [The scrabbling is getting closer, and he lifts the rifle, staring through the sight.] He's armed, but not enough if he runs into a nest.