Baz vaults into the truck and racks his shotgun. Then he resumes loading it, taking a shot. He frowns as the gun jams, and draws the dagger from his belt. "Och, it'll be a shame to lose yae..." he mutters. Then he takes carefull aim, and plants the blade right between one of their pursuer's eyes. He sighs at the loss of such a fine blade, and then shrugs, reaching into his jacket and slipping an identical one into the belt sheath.<br/><br/>He leans back  and continues to work his shotgun, muttering a litany of curses and swearwords under his breath. "Stupid... crappy bastarding Southern-made pile of shit fuck fuck LOAD you cocking pile of congealed monkey vomit!"<br/><br/>When it finally ejects the mangled remains of the jammed shell. Baz grins, and reaches into his jacket. He offers Janus his flask, and everyone a cigar, motioning for Janus to pass the flask around "Spark up an' drink up, yae pinkie bastards" he growls, the twinkle in his eye letting everyone know it's not malicious.