Third Person: The heat index might as well be labeled as stupid degrees Fahrenheit with how hot it seemed outside. The occasional breeze provided by the palm trees overhead provided some relief when it cast over his tanned form, combat boots crunching the dry ground where he stepped. Jake swatted at a mosquito that resided on the back of his taunt neck, pressing his chipped nails inward as a slight hum passed through his lips. He was especially keen on his reflexes today. It had been days since he had last seen his sparring counterpart who seemed to be playing mind games with him. It would appear that the robot favored his closest comrade a bit too much; Jake wasn't entirely sure how he could even handle two Striders and an auto-responder as it was. Somehow he did; clearly he was out of his wits, but that was something he was naturally. Out of his wits.
The skitter caused by a small reptile causes Jake to practically flip his shit, leaping rather comically to the side and firing a single shot from one of his drawn pistols. Smoke flourishes into clear, and Jake blinks, still suspicious of the bush next to his side. He grits his teeth harshly, "I know you're around here, and by Jove, I'm not going to simply retreat when I've gotten this flippin' close to finding you, and I will get'ya, lickity-split--" Jake mutters under his breath as he brings the side of the pistol to his lips. He holds the gun close to him, lips pursing slightly as he inches further into the brush.
Emerald eyes, spiraling with determination, dart behind rectangular specs as he ignore a bead of salty sweat dripping from the corner of his thick brow. Jake huffs out a gust of air as he picks up his pace to a jog, knowing these grounds like the back of his hand. There's a log that's down over there to his right; he's sure of that. And it leads over a crevice in the earth off to a path that locates itself to a ruin. Easy as pie. There wasn't a spot of confidence missing from him that he didn't know his homeland by heart. Jake crawls over a boulder, which he knew was coming, and leaps into the bushes, probably more dramatically than he needed to. And so he rolls, further into the bush as he turns a trip up into a barrel roll.
Smooth.
He also was humming the Mission Impossible theme while doing so. The boy had to keep himself driven somehow. Jake adjusts his glasses before picking up his jog again. The hunt was on and he was determined to wrestle the robot and give himself a victory. He wasn't going to let his backside get royally kicked once more.
"Of all the blasted things for him to program him to do, it just had to be stealth mode--" A beat. Jake lifts himself up and rubs his forehead with the back of his head before muttering to himself, "--I really don't fancy stealth mode all the friggin' time, but he's too darn fast for me to fix that."
Something goes off in his pocket, which happens to be his mobile. It seems somebody was pestering him. They had a tendency to pester him at the worst and intense times. Jake, however, stops everything he's doing and rests against the tree entirely, pulling out his phone and texting whoever was pestering him back. It was almost planned how often this happened, as if Brobot and his friends were teaming against him.
He didn't even notice the pair of red eyes watching him carefully from the tree, slowly targeting the boy in silence.
Re: Homestuck || Jake English || Not Reserved || DONE.
The skitter caused by a small reptile causes Jake to practically flip his shit, leaping rather comically to the side and firing a single shot from one of his drawn pistols. Smoke flourishes into clear, and Jake blinks, still suspicious of the bush next to his side. He grits his teeth harshly, "I know you're around here, and by Jove, I'm not going to simply retreat when I've gotten this flippin' close to finding you, and I will get'ya, lickity-split--" Jake mutters under his breath as he brings the side of the pistol to his lips. He holds the gun close to him, lips pursing slightly as he inches further into the brush.
Emerald eyes, spiraling with determination, dart behind rectangular specs as he ignore a bead of salty sweat dripping from the corner of his thick brow. Jake huffs out a gust of air as he picks up his pace to a jog, knowing these grounds like the back of his hand. There's a log that's down over there to his right; he's sure of that. And it leads over a crevice in the earth off to a path that locates itself to a ruin. Easy as pie. There wasn't a spot of confidence missing from him that he didn't know his homeland by heart. Jake crawls over a boulder, which he knew was coming, and leaps into the bushes, probably more dramatically than he needed to. And so he rolls, further into the bush as he turns a trip up into a barrel roll.
Smooth.
He also was humming the Mission Impossible theme while doing so. The boy had to keep himself driven somehow. Jake adjusts his glasses before picking up his jog again. The hunt was on and he was determined to wrestle the robot and give himself a victory. He wasn't going to let his backside get royally kicked once more.
"Of all the blasted things for him to program him to do, it just had to be stealth mode--" A beat. Jake lifts himself up and rubs his forehead with the back of his head before muttering to himself, "--I really don't fancy stealth mode all the friggin' time, but he's too darn fast for me to fix that."
Something goes off in his pocket, which happens to be his mobile. It seems somebody was pestering him. They had a tendency to pester him at the worst and intense times. Jake, however, stops everything he's doing and rests against the tree entirely, pulling out his phone and texting whoever was pestering him back. It was almost planned how often this happened, as if Brobot and his friends were teaming against him.
He didn't even notice the pair of red eyes watching him carefully from the tree, slowly targeting the boy in silence.