Ben smirks as he steps close and grips Butterfield's upper arm, hard.
"For your own safety, Mr. Butterfield, why don't you join my friend Dan — "
bang
He feels the wind off the round as it sails past his ear.
" ... over here?"
He shoves Butterfield behind the door, next to Dan. He'd laugh at Butterfield's gobsmacked face, but he's got more pressing matters to attend to. Like the gun in his hand.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-07-08 08:30 am (UTC)Ben smirks as he steps close and grips Butterfield's upper arm, hard.
"For your own safety, Mr. Butterfield, why don't you join my friend Dan — "
bang
He feels the wind off the round as it sails past his ear.
" ... over here?"
He shoves Butterfield behind the door, next to Dan. He'd laugh at Butterfield's gobsmacked face, but he's got more pressing matters to attend to. Like the gun in his hand.
Two left.
He reloads, fingers quick and sure.
"Guess we'll see how many we can handle."
And then look to counting the money in the coach.