<div class="floatright">(http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSBadCQB7tH7yfWujsxz9qb8Xj3tkLgrm9Yg9Qp1SZLAqk7KOv3&amp;t=1)<strong><br/>Sara (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=150938.msg6869979#msg6869979)</strong><br/><strong>Location:</strong> On Dom's bus<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Holding a gun. Shit!<br/>Fuck! Gah!<br/><strong>Tagged: </strong> Noah, Dom, Twith, Mika<br/><hr/></div><br/>For the first time in recent memory, Sara didn't have any answers. Noah's refusal to leave was as frustrating as it was expected, but she couldn't make him take to the dessert any more then she could give Twitch an instant detox. Her grip shifted over the pistol as her jaw shifted in contemplation. These were the feeble cards she was dealt, and no matter how she played them in her mind, the outcome looked grim for everyone involved. One option seemed a little less dire then others.<br/><br/>"<strong>Take this.</strong>" Sara offered, handing over the gun. She believed it went without saying that it ought to remain trailed in Twitch.<br/><br/>She moved quickly, before doubt could settle in and paralyze her toward the front of the vehicle. Scanning list of channels taped to the dash of the bus, she tuned the bus' radio to Dom's personal channel.<br/><br/>"<strong>Dom?</strong>" The radio hissed and popped and she turned it off, fearing her voice might waver. She palmed the sweat pooling on her brow and took a short steadying breath. "<strong>Dom come in.</strong>"