Hemingway felt like an absolute idiot, and his emotions were ridiculously out of control. He didn't know which thought to focus on first.
Then Abi was in his lap, and it was a welcome distraction, a place too focus his attention to stop him from getting too lost in his own head. His hands ran along her thighs like an automatic reflex, and settled on her hips, holding her lightly in place. He chuckled half-heartedly at her threat, and gave her a bit of a shrug before answering. "Take the damn gun," he answered with a slight sigh. It didn't seem that bad now. Maybe he was over-reacting. It had just hit him like a punch to the gut, and that feeling had really taken him by surprise.