The moment the shotgun even CLEARED the beltline, Lapine's well-practiced pistol instincts would kick in. Flick of the hip to throw up her skirt on the side, hand surging down to hook her fingers around the grip and drawing it in one smooth motion. If this were a self-defense scenario, she'd have been letting off shots as she brought it up at this range, but instead LEO rules were in play, and so no shot fired even as she leveled it at the bancho-gal's vitals. That said, the speed at which this occurred was a clear indicator that she was not one to be trifled with, even for other professionals.<br/><br/><Prisoners in my custody are not harmed, and I haven't yet handed them over> she laid out in no uncertain terms, the words as firm as her aim was unerring. <Now just so we're clear, from one professional to another: I hand over these prisoners of mine, and you clean up this whole operation - dumb and dumber over here, all these supplies, that god-awful basement, and call in someone to take care of the astral. Not a trace, nothing, never existed. We also split the bounty, per your offer, but I'll take a smaller cut since you've got your hands full with the clean-up...<br/><br/>If you agree, then once I'm out that door and on my merry way, these two are all yours to do what you will with... comprenez vous?>