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Snow falls to a knee, his grow low and gutteral in his throat as the juggernaut's cannon scores a direct hit and fractures his reinforced stance. Even with the iron taste of blood on his tongue and the acrid smell of singed fabric in his nostrils, he laughs it off in delight. He shifts down into a healing stance the moment the kid shouts the command, content for now to watch the storm of spells launched by Lightning and Hope - both somewhere safe behind him. It's a hell of a show.
Realistically, Snow realises he can be labelled an adrenaline junkie. The higher risk of broken bones and gruesome mauling, the bigger the rush - and so far Gran Pulse has been paying out in spades.
They've been down in hell for a total of three days, and there's a reason it earned the nickname. He's hardly complained - if they're going to save Cocoon and see Serah on the other side of crystal stasis, then they've gotta take on the infestation in the Cradle. Lightning can't be the only one pushing for them to better themselves - he's got her back, he's said as much before.
So, he helps in the only way he can. He cajoles them into hunts, baits them into increasingly dumb ideas and the confrontations they might have otherwise avoided. His body has never hurt this much before. He's been hit in the head so many times today alone that he can't even remember what Vanille had scraped together for breakfast that morning.
It's working, though. They're all looking just a little more upbeat, just a little more hopeful, and that's worth every bump and mauling. It's the only way to win against the brand! But it was a delicate, tiny thing, something to be protected at all costs. That's why Snow had flung himself into the path of the juggernaut.
Stubbornly, Snow had shaken his head at Lightning's suggestion of running. The damned thing had cut off their escape route, and in Snow's opinion, it had been way too late to bail.
And besides. If they can't take some anti-l'Cie robots, how the hell are they meant to wipe that sneer from Barthandelus' ugly mug?
Lightning had nodded, understanding. For all her supposed caution and tactics, Snow has figured out she's just like him, thrilling at the danger and fostering this tiny spark of hope. She's just... smarter about it.
Snow whistles sharply as the juggernaut staggers forward, lacing the sound with magical energy straight from his brand. He's done it countless times before in this fight, but this time, his timing slips and the provoke does nothing. Snow tries again, belting out an even louder laugh and calling it everything from a rust bucket to a fal'Cie's love child, but damn him it's already got someone in its sights.
Snow supposes he should be lucky it's Lightning who takes the hit, and not Hope. Even then, when he looks over his shoulder and sees her out cold on the ground... He very nearly forgets he's fighting for his life, panic gripping his chest.
He springs into action without thought for his own safety or a lick of strategy - but then, that's just how he rolls - hurling himself between Lightning, Hope and the juggernaut before them. He sets his stance and blocks a haymaker from the robot, grimly thankful someone had thought far enough ahead to disable the chainsaws lining it. Then he looks back over his shoulder.
Hope is working his magic over Lightning's fallen form, and while a raise takes time, Snow knows it'll work. He turns his attention back to the juggernaut, his lips baring in a wordless snarl. He focuses all of his energy into his provocations, drawing the juggernaut's attention and overriding whatever ancient programming that thing still adheres to.
Snow takes hit after hit, and he grits his teeth, unwilling to give an inch. He ignores the way his knees buckle under the onslaught, or how even a l'Cie's skin began to blister when hit with enough fire. It doesn't matter that it feels as though his forearm is fracturing second by second, that he'll be wearing these marks for days, healing magic be damned.
He'll protect them. He'll protect her, whether he has to face a juggernaut or the fal'Cie themselves. It isn't just because she's Serah's sister, either. Her approval and trust... it's all come to mean far more to him than that. They're friends.
When Lightning finally groans and pushes herself to her feet, Snow spares her a look over her shoulder, and he doesn't mind the way his vision swims and darkens oddly. He offers her a wave, even if the gesture is ignored.
Lightning's eyes are already fixed on the goal ahead, but that's the way it's meant to be. He's got her back, and he's never been in the business of abandoning his promises.