Coriolanus

Addam smashed at lurching ogres, illustrious and surefire in that his sword was just that big; it'd actually be a greater feat if he did fail to strike connection, although he very often looked like he was going to, as he assumed his sidelong stance.

Minoth sniped at those very same ogres' eyeballs, nobody in a cave and everybody on the field like sheep ascatter. His bullets were and made no pinholes, but they had to be loaded and launched with some great crescendo of force, amassing accuracy, to truly reach their target, no? Yes?

So they were a matched set, that way. Mythra from the rear guard acted as a beacon jettisoning beams of light forward toward the enemy, somewhat pushed as they went. Minoth from the rear guard was a drop dead ringer. And Addam did like to stay up front, sterling and stalwart in action.

Usually. Most days. Rather, most nights. Now, the more vicious fauna came out to prowl once the sun went down, so that was copacetic, but imagine Addam's world-shaking shock to see Minoth fire off a shot at Lunar Amaruq, crawling out early, and miss.

Let me say that again: miss.

Just like that! He missed!

Except for the fact that Addam was a very easygoing person, the prince - the one in immediate danger of being swiped by sharp claws on shaggy paws - was absolutely aghast.

Hunched down on one knee, he turned his horrified, rattling golden eyes upon Minoth, who somehow seemed to carry on as if nothing whatsoever had fallen out of the ordinary. He spun up a buff. He slashed through Espada. He rained out the content of a cruel Castigo. The only problem was, he was still missing half his shots.

Oh, dealing with the beast wasn't really an issue. Even at half capacity, Minoth finished such tasks well.

Only once the final setting of the sun revealed a speckle of green within blue eyes did Addam breathe a sigh of relief.