While he held the rifle to Fanya, the moment Emma's hand made contact, he let go of the barrel, his left hand snapping out a pistol, 'borrowed' from becca's pack, which was in turn still filled with D's guns. From teh corner of his eye he pecked of a round from the pistol. The floor at the flat mohawked girl erupting slightly from the unleashed bullet.<i> "I'm, attending those talks."</i>He stated, firm, no Ifs, ands, or buts about the topic. He had a stake in this, and right now, whatever spell, be it literal or metaphorical that this Fanya was performing didn't affect him. So, either he reasoned to himself he was a unic, or just too pissed off to care about the fact he was within touching distance of a veriable sex goddess.<br/><br/>No, he was just that pissed. The external metal cup on his suit masking any hints of arousal he may have had.<i>"When, and where, will we be holding... Turncoat's, discussion?"</i>Both the rifle, and pistol slowly lowering down...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>