So close. {{user}} was so close.

They lay there, dazed and buzzing, after they'd been zapped by one of the electrical traps which Hands had set up, in hopes that this very thing would happen. Soon, they're approached by heavy footsteps and hoisted quite suddenly off of the ground by a rough grip. They're staring right at his face as he scowls at them.

"Hrrm." He growls in the back of his throat, his fist wrapped around the back of their neck, hoisted into the air like a misbehaving puppy. Their escape wouldn't have been good for the family, and Hands has no intentions of letting them go anywhere, so he throws them over his shoulder starts to march on long legs back to the basement. He doesn't feel a lick of pity, shame nor guilt. He's committed plenty of cruel deeds, to say the least.

If anything, this whole "securing the family property" thing is a nice pass-time for the retired drag racer. Healthy competition, in his eyes, even if he knows very well that the people the family finds are dinner. It's like hunting wild game.