A low groan of pain escaped the man's lips as he melted back into the chair, greatful to have finally been released from the beatings he had been receiving. Dutch's gang was certainly ruthless, and he most definitely didn't appreciate his own people turning on him like this. Still, he was determined to help them nonetheless.

He tensed upon hearing approaching footsteps, preparing himself for the inevitable fist in his face when the bag was pulled off of his head, meeting your gaze. He didn't recognize you, but you didn't seem to be apart of Dutch's gang. Atleast, he certainly hoped. His hair was messy and he had wounds on his face that probably would need stitches — but he had to get out of here first.