Joel gave the guard a blank look before pushing past him and following Redding into the apartment. He immediately regretted coming on the job as he took in the sight before him and knew almost instantly that the chance of him leaving without using his kukri to cut off Mancini’s head had become miniscule. As the drug addled piece of shit offered to sell the person on the floor to Redding it took every fiber of his being not to draw his Glock and blow a hole in the man's head. He looked to Redding, trying to gauge his reaction mostly but also trying to figure out whether he would have to open him up as well if he went after Mancini. Thankfully they both seemed to share the same look of thinly veiled revulsion. Redding’s was also a look of caution however, or rather on urging caution. Or maybe calm, probably both. Either way the intended message was rather clear.


The former soldier looked back to the figure on the floor, his temper dangerously close to boiling point. She was dirty and had probably been beaten, maybe worse knowing Mancini. He looked back to the dead man walking, his eyes boring into him, filled with hate and anger. He just about managed to contain himself, albeit temporarily. He would see where this conversation went but he could feel it. He was one shitty remark away from painting the room red. Or maybe he would keep his cool and just come back later to off the prick without witnesses. Of course Redding would connect the dots easily and word would likely spread. Still, right now it felt like it would be worth it and it was very nearly a decision removed from clearheaded choice, soon hate, killer instinct and reflexes would take over.