Game Over didn't necessarily mean that Sal had won, and he knew that. He just wanted Jazz off his back. And clearly, with Jazz holding a knife to his throat, that wasn't going to happen.
Feeling like the meat in an orgy sandwich, which made Sal shudder like nothing else, he decided he needed to get out of the middle of this as cleanly as possible. While Sal was no aerobics instructor, he had a couple of moves, mostly devised in times of desperation.
"Well, okay then." Sal pouted, staring Midvalley straight in the eyes. Then he did a swift crouch of sorts, balancing and maneuvering his body in such a way that one leg flew up and kicked at Jazz's arm, attempting to knock the blade back, and the hand that gripped the gun seized forward, the metal punching Midvalley in the gut.
As soon as he was sure they'd been distracted by the sudden move, Sal skedaddled past Jazz, grabbed Mitch by the collar and threw him over his shoulder. The boy looked like he was in no condition to walk.
"Let's do this again sometime!" Sal waved without turning around. "You guys have a great night."