"Right... wait here, door closed..."  Marlowe rolls his eyes, checks the grip again, and steps out into the hallway... his steeltoed boots all but soundless as he edges up the hallway... "...now where's that fuckin' bureaucrat...?"  he tightens the strap of the bullpup over his good shoulder and pulls the 10mm, disengaging the safety and raising it in his grip, resting his trigger-finger over the guard... everything he sees now is over the crosshairs of the pistol as he starts a slow creep along the wall.