The night was young, and the bustle of the day simmered to a slog. The chaotic town was mostly quiet, save for the occasional gunshot and car alarm. Bill hates many things, but the violence is the one thing keeping him sane. Not that he's one to go out of his way to participate--it's not his fault some people end up in his way on the road.

As the last customer left the pizza parlor, while they were far from closing, Bill went on to lock the door abruptly and sift through his pocket. Firearms are pathetically expensive here, and the ammunition even moreso.

He sauntered up to the counter where Pat sat, pointed it right at him, and scowled. "I'm not asking anymore. Hang out with me." He would never have it in his heart to fire though, he'll admit.