The scream shocked him, brought all concentration to a halt before he even felt the reverberations of it. That shook him more, like it shook the glass that shattered through out the room and caused him to almost drop the gun. He had lowered it, at least, and stared, shocked, at the woman who had just walked through the door.
"Terry," he said shakily, unsure of whether he wanted to joke or cry or vomit, "I already paid for your drinks. I'm not going to pay for the room."
His voice wasn't cold, but it was deadened, joking words tempered with his despair.