[i]a new challenger approaches[/i] Erren thought, as the wondering priest stepped in between him and the Scotish one. When people stood in front of a shot normally, the bullet would just pass them through and then move onto the next. However, bullets were a lot less fun than playing with people and their ideals. Especially someone who both seemed religious, as well as gang material, or at least that's what he claimed.
[b]"Well that's unlucky for you, because we aren't a Yakuza. Nor do we play by their rules."[/b] he said, flipping the revolver into his hand so he was holding the barrel, [b]"You seem like a... Mostly, reasonable person. But don't cross me when I'm having fun, or it'll be your name on my bullet, not hers."[/b] he finished, motioning to the redhead who had now made her way into the shop. He had a right mind to shoot him where he stood just to get the thing over with, but for some reason that almost didn't feel right. It wasn't that morals stood in his way, but that there was a lot more this priest could do for the Forgotten alive than being worm food, and one such thing was not bloody prayers.
[b]"I heard our shopkeeper wanted you to speak to a Drake. Now, I would love to help you in your predicament of joining the wounded field, but I have much better things to be doing that don't involve helping lost thugs make their own goddy way in life. Talk to Hans if he can be arsed, but don't expect much. They're either grieving or don't trust you as far as they could through you, which,"[/b] he paused, quickly looking over the priests body and shape, [b]"Would be about a couple centimetres, give or take whatever you land on."[/b] he said, throwing the pistol lightly into the air and then catching it by the handle. Then he stuffed it into has pocket and stepped around the priest, heading into the shop to see what kind of crap was going on inside.