When the gunfire had erupted, the man rolled, sprawling himself flat over the rock and taking a split second to take aim at the source of hte sound. A car, and several horseriders. Not his concern, until he realized he had turned his back on the meat eater. Again he rolled, a blurring mess of cloaks and leathers and cap as he tried to evade a sneakattack that may, or may not have come. Landing flat on his back on the ground, rifle swiveling to bare once more on the girl, one foot up to try kicking, the other braced on a rock to push himself away if distance was needed. And all of this in two blinks of an eye. His reflexes were unnatural, fast but with a jerky stop, like a door hitting it's jam.<br/><br/>Off in the distance, he could hear a far off voice ranting about finklematter, or he thought he heard it... The 'channel' had changed upon his impact with the crusty, hard topsoil. His hat had tumbled off, along with the rag he might have been using as a wig.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>