The man who held the revolver told his friend to stay, he didn't want Conell trying anything cute and stabbing up his friend or taking him hostage, and he had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind. What could he say? He was a violent man. He wasn't planning on it however, his actual intentions were pure, he did want in with the group.

"Okay. Honestly? I don't think you're gonna' shoot or stab him if he came close. But you know what it's like. Not taking any chances. I only ask for one more small bit of co-operation friend. Turn around, and lay all your weapons in front of you. Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your SMG. The way I see it, is that - that gun is precious to you, much like my .44 is to me. I won't take it, or your blade or your Glock. I simply want to see if you're willing to co-operate. I'm a man of my word, friend. You'll have to trust me on that."

“Fuck it. Fine.” Conell said under his breath. Doing what the man had said to do went against everything his instincts were screaming at him. His instincts weren't always right though. He had gotten into a lot of trouble and had went through a lot of pain because he listened primarily to them in the past.

“I'll move slow. Keep your finger off the trigger, will you brother?”

Conell took out the pistol first, dropping it immediately behind him. Then he went to his blade, pulling it from it's sheathe and dropping it onto the ground. Finally he took his MP5 off, not actually touching the gun but pulling the sling from over his head and shoulder and placing it on the ground.

“That's all I've got weapon wise... I'm in no position to glass you with the jars in my backpack.” Conell chuckled.