Oh I think Graves absolutely knows that T.F. can take care of himself that way when pressed — they have known each other so long and under such circumstances that I’m pretty sure he must have seen T.F. kill someone personally at least once haha. Graves does probably still think of himself as the powerhouse/fighter between them, both because of ego reasons and because I don’t think T.F. is particularly violently inclined unless he’s forced into a corner and removed from all other options. He would rather flight than fight almost every time, but he will fight when necessary. If Graves is a siege cannon, T.F. is more of a surprise stiletto shoved up between the ribs during a handshake lol. Very different in expression, but ultimately the same long-term results (dead motherfuckers when dead motherfuckers are necessary).
What I think WOULD take Graves by surprise is T.F.’s capacity for unrestrained calculated cold-eyed violence specifically for the cause of Graves’ protection. I feel like when it’s just himself on the line, T.F. would prefer to run until he’s out of ground, but if someone forces him at this point to contemplate living without Graves again… he would immediately Choose Violence, and How.
Here’s a little snippet of something I never managed to make into a whole thing, but the context is basically that some guys have Graves at knifepoint and T.F. goes quietly and intensely Ballistic about it
T.F. stands very still, because he doesn’t need to move to capture all attention in the room. The cold, fierce fury in his eyes is the only statement of intent needed.
“Get your hands off him,” he says, surprisingly quietly, like he already knew everyone would hang on every word from his mouth without him raising his voice. “Or I will kill every single one of your people and then you, and for you I’ll make it slow.”
It occurs to me, suddenly, that in all our years running together I ain’t ever seen Tobias truly angry before. Nothin’ like this. It’s not his way; he seems set in some way to not let the world know where it’s touched him — sure, he’s barked back a couple of times when people get too close to something tender, but this is something else altogether. There’s no clever trickery here and no finesse, really. For once he’s just telling the truth.
“Are you okay?” T.F. asks, fitting his hand to my cheek and tilting my face up so he can peer at me anxiously, the other hand patting restlessly over my chest as if checking me for new holes.
“Hell, I’m fine, Tobias,” I say faintly. “I was more wonderin’ how you were doin’ there.”
T.F.’s distracted, still looking me over with that intensity that borders on desperation. “Huh?”
