The Asgardian couldn't deny it - this felt good. This felt right, as wrong as the intentions behind this fight were. His fists were also in pain, but the adrenaline soared passed that pain to the high of being in a real fight.
But the instant the cool metal of the gun touched Mitch's skin, the muscles in his arms froze immediately, even as they were tensed to dish out more punishment. He was breathing just as heavily as Sal, and as the redhead swallowed back a thick bile of frustration caused by being forced to stop, he felt that ice-cold dread return to replace his wrath. He was once again reminded that this was his death staring him right in the face if Mitch didn't regain some control.
He almost choked on the word, but after a moment, he replied, "Fine."
His fists uncurled and his arms lowered to his sides. Then he lowered his eyes and slowly made to step backwards, but he was expecting something to happen. His heart, still pounding, certainly believed that.