He felt the familiar sting, the pain that accompanied a bullet piercing his body. Before the next shot could be fired, the man was dead and Pietro was looking back at Summer, “I told you not to follow,” he said as the blood started to fall down his body as he started to get woozy, using a nearby car to hold himself up. ”Are you ok?”
“I’m going to fly. Trust me.” She didn’t think he realised quite how much she could do just with the emotions he was broadcasting, whether he realised it or not. She locked her arms around his waist, spun off a little ‘reminder’ to the minds of anyone around that there was nothing there, and took off.
She probably wasn’t ever going to tell him that his being in pain actually made this part easier.
Pietro was a little confused right now, “You know I’ve never much seen a lot of what you can do. Besides the empathy thing. So…” he said before they were off in the air. ”I really hope you know I hate flying. My feet like to touch the ground.”
“You never asked.” She ignored his comment about flying. She wasn’t going to let him run them there, wounded as he was, and the next fastest method was her flying them. Especially with so much emotion to tap. For this circumstance, she didn’t bother with any of the flash — no wings, no flare trail. It was a short flight anyway, and she dropped neatly on her balcony within a few minutes. “Get inside.”
