Again, the gun was on him. At least that damn gun was away from him, That thing had caused him a good amount of trouble as is. A slight twinge of pain from beneath a hidden bandage reminded him of such a fact.
He could now see the man clearly. He had the shotgun placed firmly at his chest, expertly gripping the handle in a way which seemed to send a clear air of authority. He found himself being quite intrigued by how the grip was done, but pulled his eyes away. He didn't exactly think an altercation was a good thing to cause, under such circumstances.
God, that smoke was stifling.
Yet, still, his eyes locked forward, his back stood straight, and he laid perfectly still. He had sacrificied alot to get here - and shotgun to the heart was NOT what he considered "worth the effort"