"Ain't in the mood to bitch at me." Sal repeated, deadpanned. "I didn't realize I was fighting a prepubescent girl, hot stuff. Should we end this early so you can go back home and play with your dolls, Molly Sue?"
Seriously, sometimes Sal forgot he was fighting a teenage boy and not one of those hotshot immortals that flounced around Niflheim like the characters in Anne Rice novels. Tightening his grip on Mitch, he glared straight into his eyes, though the smile on his face never wavered. He then pulled his glock out of his holster and held it up before Mitch.
"You're going to be doing a little service for me." Sal shoved the gun into one of Mitch's hands. "I'm assuming you know you can't kill me with this. I'm also assuming you're aware I have three more guns on my person. I won't hesitate to kill you if you don't comply." The grin doubled in size. "Now that we've got that itty bitty disclaimer out of the way...Jazz and Midvalley, Niflheim's ill-fated lovers, are currently in the same room. You're going to kill Midvalley for me. Peachy?"