Hell, I don’t know where we are. [ The man in black extends one gloved finger past his knife to roll down his window, tick, casual as anything. Glass whispers down into the frame. Wind rushes in, along with the sound of traffic: white noise and cold air. Knife switched to his left hand, he maneuvers his revolver crossways off his hip with his right.
Just in case, surely. ]
You’re the one who wanted to drive.
[ As they’re merging, he hangs the revolver wide out his window, squints, and pops a shot clean through a set of police lights on an SUV headed for the bank behind them. ]
no subject
Just in case, surely. ]
You’re the one who wanted to drive.
[ As they’re merging, he hangs the revolver wide out his window, squints, and pops a shot clean through a set of police lights on an SUV headed for the bank behind them. ]