[Questions die unasked as John does the SPARTAN equivalent of dropping to his knees, and Halsey's shock turns to alarm. She springs to her feet, and even at her full height, even with John slouching, she still barely comes up to his chest. In the moment, a slight old woman somehow seems to fill up more space in the room than a SPARTAN in MJOLNIR, and it frightens her in a way no threat of death ever has.
She does what few dare and fewer get away with, and lays a hand on the breastplate of his armor, the energy shielding in its idle configuration feeling slick beneath her fingers. From Halsey, only slightly more physically demonstrative than the SPARTANs themselves, it's a major gesture. She'd adjusted, unhappy but aware of the necessity, to the unavoidable reality that her SPARTANs could and would die, but until now she hadn't believed they could crack. Looking at John's unreadable visor for a long moment, she compiles a mental list of things that could conceivably break a SPARTAN, could break this SPARTAN, and it's both short and terrifying.]
no subject
She does what few dare and fewer get away with, and lays a hand on the breastplate of his armor, the energy shielding in its idle configuration feeling slick beneath her fingers. From Halsey, only slightly more physically demonstrative than the SPARTANs themselves, it's a major gesture. She'd adjusted, unhappy but aware of the necessity, to the unavoidable reality that her SPARTANs could and would die, but until now she hadn't believed they could crack. Looking at John's unreadable visor for a long moment, she compiles a mental list of things that could conceivably break a SPARTAN, could break this SPARTAN, and it's both short and terrifying.]
John, what's wrong?