The man in the doorway had spoken Wesley's name. He knew who Wesley was and from the sound of things, had been after him specifically. But.. why? And where had Wesley learned to shoot a gun like that? Was it part of his unofficial training?
Perhaps the better question was: why was Conrad so focused on this right now? Probably because speculating about the mystery surrounding Wesley was a more pleasant than the matter of his own death. Because Conrad knew he was dying. He just hated admitting that this was how he'd been taken out. He had survived war. He had lived through Skull Island and Colonel Packard's idiotic plan. And somehow, one single bullet from a man he didn't even know had ended his life. How annoying.
But Conrad wasn't upset with Wesley. Even if he was confused by what was going on, Conrad couldn't place the blame on his new friend.
"Hey, at least you got me to dance." A weak smile tugged at his lips. He reached up, using the last of his energy to take the other man's hand. Because if he was going to die, he'd much rather do so while holding on to Wesley as opposed to cradling his wound. "Listen, I need you to get back to the hotel where it's safe. Please, Wes. I need to know that you'll be okay.."
Not that Conrad would remain conscious long enough to hear Wesley's answer. He winced and leaned back against the bar, that awful cold sensation finally claiming the rest of his body.