[Dixon, being ambivalent about his own survival right now and completely convinced that his most valuable contribution to the group is as a human shield, isn't persuaded by any appeal to self-preservation, even for the sake of continuing on to go save the world. "Stay alive so you can get the job done" is something he understands intellectually, but it hasn't permeated his core.
Fighting dirty, though - that he can respect, and it pisses him off to agree with Harper on something. He feels split between two things, feeling that he agrees with Harper that it's time to say "fuck it" to the high-talking abstracts, but he wants to side with Arturia more. She's charismatic, and he wants to believe that (if not heroism) having some sort of value is possible, and most importantly, fuck Harper that whining smartass fuck. He feels a rash of heat wash under his skin, a tightening in his jaw, a queasiness at indecision, and so for once he listens to what other people have been telling him and takes a metaphorical step back.]
Lucky us, [he mutters at Arturia's last comment.
Not bothering to ask the Council if it's alright or even acknowledging it might be rude at all, he pulls his lighter and rapidly-depleting pack of cigarettes out and lights up, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket as he settles into his discomfort and listens.]
no subject
Fighting dirty, though - that he can respect, and it pisses him off to agree with Harper on something. He feels split between two things, feeling that he agrees with Harper that it's time to say "fuck it" to the high-talking abstracts, but he wants to side with Arturia more. She's charismatic, and he wants to believe that (if not heroism) having some sort of value is possible, and most importantly, fuck Harper that whining smartass fuck. He feels a rash of heat wash under his skin, a tightening in his jaw, a queasiness at indecision, and so for once he listens to what other people have been telling him and takes a metaphorical step back.]
Lucky us, [he mutters at Arturia's last comment.
Not bothering to ask the Council if it's alright or even acknowledging it might be rude at all, he pulls his lighter and rapidly-depleting pack of cigarettes out and lights up, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket as he settles into his discomfort and listens.]