Pietro's chest hurt in a way he hadn't felt since he was very young, and it was enough to give him pause, taking slow breaths and trying not to let the pain, or confusion break through his expression. Shocks didn't normally effect him like this. Maybe it was guilt? He hadn't been able to get the truck open. It was his fault, it was-
He looked up at the gun, still taking slow, careful breaths. He could run...or dodge it, probably. Though probably was not reassuring when it came to bullets, and with his chest so tight he couldn't be sure if he'd make it twenty miles or twenty feet before needing to stop. And so he simply stared warily, waiting to see what it was he planned to do.