[ he reaches for the clothes automatically, the kind of reflex that comes from practice- learned comfort with adopting, adapting, getting the hell on with things. they fit easily enough beneath his arm and he's momentarily distracted by the thought of satisfying the itch on the left on his ribcage that's been grating on his patience for the better part of an hour. he'll still need to contact romanoff again, get her hands to work the bolts loose a second time. he's not out of the woods yet, but chuck's always been that way- checking ahead, looking for that next ledge to grab hold of.
chuck's gaze cuts to his shoulder all the same, the defense corp's wings staring back out at him. ] RIG?
» video.
chuck's gaze cuts to his shoulder all the same, the defense corp's wings staring back out at him. ] RIG?