Work Text:
Pip grunts as she hauls her body up onto a pipe, thrilled as always at all the little nooks and crannies she could climb up to with her trusty grappling hook. Without thinking she automatically turns back to her hook and starts detaching it, mind already thinking forward to where she needs to go and how best to get there. So distracted is she, she never notices the weight swinging from the rope until it’s gone - or rather until she hears the splat-grunt of Irish landing hard on the ground two stories below her. There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch as Pip stares down at Irish, eyes wide and apologetic - his eyes narrowed and accusatory, before multiple robed Sleepers jump to action to chase down the source of the noise. Clattering down ladders and across metal catwalks hissing over the noise they heard forcing Irish to make a run for it. Pip remains a silent sentry, watching Sleepers go stumbling after and even a Lucid or two racing with phone flashlights out, yelling out to Irish to stop running. Pip remains still as a statue until silence reigns supreme around her once again - only then does she send out a silent ‘sorry’ and turn to sneak off to the next objective. Comforting herself with ‘he’ll be fiiine’.