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The Captain America of alien fighting.
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The idea of threatening people was distasteful, but Carlon was not naive enough to expect the mere appearance of force to scare off those who had proven a penchant for violence since waking up on the island for whatever reason. The potential to make good on those threats had not occurred to him until Makatala had declared it a possibility, his attention shifting to Alexandria as he finally realised that perhaps it was not her leg that had invoked the change in her demeanour. Questions of morality and justice and the niggling feeling that something was not quite right resurfaced. For the first time Carlon found himself eyeing the gun at Makatala’s side, shaking his head slowly at the insinuation that threats had been made. Hadn’t she already said that she had not had to use the gun yet?

“Alexandria,” he started haltingly, smile all but gone. He was still stood beside her, and now not too faraway from Makatala since she had moved to continue their discussion at a conversational volume. “She said earlier that she has not used the gun before. She’s just looking for information about her... girlfriend.”

He had not commented earlier when Makatala had mentioned who she was looking for, not because he had had no information (but that was true too) but because his throat had gone stubbornly dry. Carlon swallowed hard, stiffening ever so slightly as he tried to tell himself that a person’s sexuality really should not matter to him, but he found that now he could not meet the other girl’s eye.

It did matter, but rather than voice his discomfort, Carlon looked away to Alexandria – deflected his attention as had worked so well so far on the island – into her and her wellbeing. “You should sit down,” he said, his voice placating and soft in tone.
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