Logan's booted foot kicked the perp's .45 Baretta out of the man's reach, not that the man was in any condition to grab for it, seeing as how he was clutching his balls in agony and gasping on the floor. Logan calmly began to Mirandize the man, glancing briefly to the corner to see the ADA disappear into the men's room, presumably to find the Doc and probably ask for a tetanus shot and/or a Valium. The entire bar seemed to have let out their collective breath, and a low buzz rumbled through the patrons. One of the regulars bent down to pick up the stray Baretta, and Logan barked. "DON'T TOUCH IT!" The man froze, glancing at Logan who was fishing out his badge from his pocket with one hand, looping the chain over his head so that the shield dangled against his chest.<br/><br/>"Everybody just stay put until the uniforms get here! Nobody move!" He hollered with authority, his own gun never wavering as it was pointed at the suspect's head. The sirens were piercingly loud now, and the flashing blue lights were now reflected in the front windows as the patrol vehicles skidded into the parking lot. Two uniformed officers burst through the front door of the lounge and Logan went hands up, his service revolver pointed towards the ceiling. He had no plans to get shot by accident.<br/><br/>"Detective McNally! I'm wearing my shield! Don't shoot!" He yelled, knowing they were about to tell him to hit the floor. The two officers, guns drawn, peered at him and walked towards him cautiously, taking in the scene of the frozen bar patrons, the moaning man on the floor, and the .45 handgun lying safely yards away. The senior patrolman read Logan's badge and nodded with a snort, holstering his service weapon. "Shit, McNally, should've figured it was you, 'ya crazy fuck."<br/><br/>The entire bar seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, a second set of uniformed officers coming through the front door and assessing the scene. The officers began the task of securing the scene and taking the suspect into custody, much to the man's dismay, who began mutterings of police brutality and lawsuits until one of the officers threatened to gag him. This shut him up and he was cuffed and hauled outside to the back of one of the patrol units. Witness statements were taken, all collaborating Logan's own statement of the facts. He knew he'd have a shitload of paperwork coming to him, but at least he didn't discharge his weapon. The mistaken belief that cops all had itchy trigger fingers was obliterated the first time an officer was confronted with the mounds of paperwork involved with a shooting. Most of the time, it wasn't worth the aggravation.<br/><br/>The excitement winding down, the bar returned to normal somewhat, the dancer even retaking her place on the stage. Logan was chatting with Sergeant Greer, who greeted the detective so profanely earlier, as they finished up their respective reports. Logan could see Lawyer-boy and the Doc slipping out of the men's room and head in their direction. Sgt. Greer peered at the two men curiously, as if he recognized one or both, but after shooting a look back at Logan, decided against mentioning it. Logan was a damn good cop, and Greer wasn't a gossip.<br/><br/>"I'm outta here, McNally. Watch yourself, son." He teased, but only halfheartedly. Greer had a good fifteen years on Logan, but refused to transfer off the streets. He had a few years to go until mandatory retirement, and the man intended to spend them outside, not chained to a desk like a eunuch. Logan grinned and winked at the older man. "See 'ya round, Greer." Greer grinned back as he headed out the door.<br/><br/>The detective turned and stepped over to his forgotten dining companions. Simons appraised his police procedural display with eloquence, and Logan turned to him with seriousness. "Not bad? I put down an armed suspect in a room full of civilians with nobody getting shot or hurt or even a fucking hangnail, without backup and without wearing a vest, and all you can say is 'not bad?'..." He hadn't meant to snap at the man, but he couldn't help it. It irked him that the ADA was sauntering around in a suit that would cost Logan a month's salary, while Logan put his ass and his life on the line every day protecting Simons from scum like that perp for a salary that Simons would laugh at. A polite "Thank You" would be nice once in a while.<br/><br/>What irked Logan even more was despite all of that, he'd still like to shove the man up against a wall and fuck the shit out of him. "You think this is some kinda game, baby? If you think you can do better, next time you can be my fucking guest." He let the little endearment slip out, but Logan was too annoyed to notice.