Dustin should have known that resistance was futile. He tries to scoot away, desperate to keep their shadows separated, but Gladio is obviously faster on his feet than Dustin is on his ass and one hand and catches up to him. His shoulders sag in defeat.

"Then we're both dead," he mumbles into his palm, and, alarmingly, tastes blood. Eyes watering, Dustin pulls his hand away and finds it absolutely coated in the stuff, which is also freely flowing from his nose and dribbling off his chin. His already scarred and crooked nose is noticeably crinkled and swelling up quickly. "Motherfucker, that hurts."