Glaive was caught off guard by the sudden grapple performed by Weston. If anything it should have been him trying to rescue Weston. Not to mention it was bit awkward for Glaive to be riding on the back of a friend like he was some sort of horse.<br/><br/>"Weston what you doing? I understand we're under attack, but don't act so reckless! It's just a game. It's not worth killing yourself over!" Glaive snapped at him, noticing all the blood that had stained his clothing. It was probably do to this loss of blood that Weston wasn't able to think clearly.<br/><br/>"A blood trail will lead them right for us anyways. . . urg speak of the devil." A volley of paintballs rained down on them, and up above was their pursuer, Dove. For the first time, Glaive was beginning to accept that maybe they might not win this, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to. Glaive stopped his thunderclapping and equipped his gun. Unfortunately his gun was too big to use just one hand, otherwise he would have at least continued to snap his fingers. A barrage of paintball pellets soon rocketed towards Dove. If she sang . . . he wasn't sure what he would do.