Once he was outside the doors of the club Hannibal slipped back into his second skin. A shoulder holster complete with gun. Didn't feel right to be working and not armed. Weird. Tugging his blue leather coat on he sighed dramatically when he spotted Drake.
"You are like a bad case of herpes, man." Never went away. King shook his head and drew his gun, it hung to his side ready to fire.
"Seriously, what the fuck is your deal?" He may have had grand dreams of being a rockstar but King never wanted to have a stalker. This was getting creepy.