"Your not as terrible as I thought." Aaron took his right hand, now away from the cleaver, the blood backing itself into his hand, and placed it on the cloth, the blood forming a sort of blade, cutting it. He tucked the gun back in his pocket. "I think I've had a change of heart. You seem sensible, even though you look...well, not." He reached into his back pocket with his left hand, pulling out a wad of cash. "How about you work for me?" His right hand was cradled around the gun in the pocket of his jacket.