Yeah, okay, this was not cool. At all. He understood the Old Gods being angry at the New Gods and the New Gods annihilating every last one of them because they’re too fucking useless to be taking up space but seriously. Seriously. Could that little issue of territory and existence not affect his business.
Guns tensed as the god spoke. He didn’t know which one of them she was; he should care about her identity, if she could be swayed or befriended or, in some level of a kid’s admiration of his late World War II veteran grandfather, respected but at that moment, with the guns supplier, guns dealer, and the slew of bodyguards split between them (minus one because that little shit was already without a huge chunk of his skull) watching on, nervous and anxious and excited, Guns couldn’t be bothered.
“Do you know how much that’s going to cost me, you little shit?” He hissed, his voice low but angry, in the quiet way springs and locks came to life right after the safety was offed. Just before the trigger was pulled.