I meant what I said, before. You do not deserve this. This is an injustice upon you as well. This will not stand.

[ his eyes watch the revolver and he starts to step back, glancing to see if there's absolutely anywhere he can take a dive behind - shoulders tightening again, flexing his fingers like a test of something. there's a roiling anger beneath his expression too, though none of the corresponding color and feverpitch power, only venom and bile.

and also some actual real bile taste in the back of his mouth, because as boothill gets closer he will definitely see the face of someone who is suffering from a hard night. uh-oh. should be careful going too hard in the lounge, boys, you never know what the morning will bring. there's a crackle of something at the edge of his fingers. ]

Going to shoot me next?