"I'm a friend of Crowley's," he answers, eyes trained on the barrel. "You can call me Raguel. Like we're old friends," he adds, but the tension in his voice gives the lie to that one; the sound of his tight control is more like a wire stretching toward the breaking point. He reaches out and takes the gun, empties the bullets into his hand, and puts them in his pocket. He runs his fingers over it, almost a caress, and hands it back to her.
"You can have that if it makes you feel more comfortable," he offers. "Wouldn't try hitting anything with it, though." He nods toward the stairs.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-10-29 04:31 am (UTC)"You can have that if it makes you feel more comfortable," he offers. "Wouldn't try hitting anything with it, though." He nods toward the stairs.
"Up. Better for sitting."