This wasn't the first time Nick had been shot at close range and it would've been stupid to walk in here with a loose cannon nut case and not expect to get shot. That's why Nick was wearing a vest under his trench coat, the best damn vest S.H.I.E.L.D. could produce. He stumbled back against the door with the force of the two slugs to his chest and swore, lifting his own gun to let out his frustration with three shots at the wall above Frank's head. S.H.I.E.L.D. would foot the bill for damage to the motel (and Nick was pretty sure bullet holes in the wall were nothing new in this place).
"Congratulations, fuckhead, you didn't get a yes-man, you got the boss," he answered and leveled the gun at Frank's forehead as he straightened himself. "And I'm not too fucking happy. It's taking a lot for me not to kill your ass, but that would be a waste of my time. I didn't come here to kill you. Might be able to improve that stock portfolio, though."