"Wouldn't mind that, Billy Jean." At those "fightin' words," Mitch was ready to spit and bite off Sal's nose--goodness knows they were close enough for it--but the thought was driven from his mind as soon as the gun was put into Mitchell's hands. The glock felt rather foriegn, and the metal cold; he had never held a gun before.
He stared dubiously at the gun until Sal explained his plan. Then the firestarter felt something in his chest go numb despite the rest of the pain throughout his body.
The saxophone player vividly appeared in Mitch's mind right then; he held no love or hate for Midvalley, though the wannabe drummer remembered hesitantly agreeing to a musical session with the guy one day.
Despite the threat, Mitch knew he wasn't going to start doing Sal's dirty work. But if the Asgardian didn't start, he would die...
That numb-feeling was making it difficult to talk, but after a moment, he returned Sal's grin with a flat, disgusted, stubborn expression.