“Look, my job is to keep you safe… Don’t worry ‘bout me.” He says, gesturing to the door.

“I wanna get you home and I wanna do it soon.” He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s head out.” He mumbles, walking out of the door with his pistol glued to his hand.

He’s trembling, and his veins are growing darker and more prominent by the minute.