Bane took his sight off the rooftop fox.  He was this close to trying to take its foot off - primarily in the pursuing fox's own interest, so as not to have to deal with Chiro - before Sarge made the decision.<br/><br/>The real pursuit had stemmed for now, and so he moved up to the middle of the truck and sat.  Not in the mood for whiskey, smoking, any of that other shit.  He was shaken, wanted to sleep.  Wanted to be somewhere safe.  He'd had enough of this shit for one day.