Re: quicklog: dylan & jack & max
[There was a hum from the other side of the bathroom door, barely audible above the running water. Blue moon, I saw you standing alone. Did Dylan like the fact that Max had handed over her gun so freely, fuck no. But he tucked it into the hem of his pants and withdrew his own instead, more comfortable with its aim, with the weight of it in his hand. It also felt a little invasive to use somebody else's gun, given over or not. Unless he ran out of bullets on Jack, he wasn't resorting to Max's gun.
Dylan kept both hands down, fingers wound around the handle and an index on the crook that pushed in the safe action on the trigger, a mechanism meant to keep from accidentally firing. All that he had to do at this point was pull down on the trigger, but the door was closed, and he wasn't shooting blinding through it. He listened. He listened to the running water and the mumbled words, and he hummed a little louder to let Max know where he was standing. He tracked Jack's voice, and was really hoping that he didn't have to shoot somebody today.]