Michael's fingers curled tightly around the handle of his knife, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it menacingly. The door to the old warehouse swung open to reveal you in front of him and his eyes filled with a certain warmth beneath the cold barrier as he looked over and studied you, raising an eyebrow before his head jerked to the side and he remembered the bodies lying on the floor with burned out eyes. He didn't want you to see that. "Told ya not to get involved in my business. Out."