Ricardo Kaká. He's a famous Brazilian soccer player. Never mind.
[At this point, John's used to no one getting his references. He mostly makes them for his own amusement, more or less.
John tilts his head, squinting at the woman's arm from behind his Ray-Bans. He's nursing a few cuts and bruises himself, nothing a band-aid and Advil can't fix. If there's anything compromising his ability to keep fighting, it's a low stock of ammunition. He's down to a single P90 magazine, and his side-arm.]
I'm good if you are. How many more are there? Can you tell with that- [He waves his gloved hand vaguely in front of his face, in reference to her visor.] Thing.
no subject
[At this point, John's used to no one getting his references. He mostly makes them for his own amusement, more or less.
John tilts his head, squinting at the woman's arm from behind his Ray-Bans. He's nursing a few cuts and bruises himself, nothing a band-aid and Advil can't fix. If there's anything compromising his ability to keep fighting, it's a low stock of ammunition. He's down to a single P90 magazine, and his side-arm.]
I'm good if you are. How many more are there? Can you tell with that- [He waves his gloved hand vaguely in front of his face, in reference to her visor.] Thing.