[His shoulders tensed upwards, forwards, his back muscles expanding to a slight hunch. Chilton was damn sure that he hadn't given himself any proper introduction -- and therefore, that meant that this man dressed in black had done his research. Which made the bank heist seem less random, less chaotic. And that made Chilton far, far more nervous.

He didn't like the wheeze of heat flooding this stolen car. It felt thick to him, it pressured against his skin.]

The natives are only human. [It was almost a plea for compassion, but more realistically a complaint for restraint.] We stand to resurrect. They do not. So try to dial down the sadism, won't you? For you own good health.

[He made a sharp swerve, veering off the interstate. Seeking quieter, more anonymous roads.]

Because I have no qualms slipping a psychopath into a straitjacket. Especially one of the imPort variety.