Charging a Made Man on a mission with a tire iron is not the most intelligent possible move.  As his friend takes off running, presumably in pursuit of the as yet unseen and unidentified Flowers, Frank turns to confront the person addressing him...<br/><br/>...with gun in hand.  And finger on trigger.<br/><br/>There is a delicate sound of thunder, and Linwood feels the sting along his upper arm as the .22 round skims his flesh.  Insult to injury, Frank takes half a step back, just far enough to get out of the way of the tire iron!<br/><br/>And now Linwood is looking down the barrel of a .22.<br/><br/>"What the fuck is your death wish," Frank snarls.  "You his fucking boyfriend or somethin'?"