Carlos was staring at a long crease of blood on one bicep. He looked up when addressed, almost as if he had forgotten where he was. It was as if he wondering why it didn't hurt more. Looking over at his newfound partner in crime he suddenly realized where he was and what he should be doing. In truth he was having a hard time thinking. Generally, he just followed the woman, and shot at anything that moved with his shotgun. He missed more often then hit but it kept them under cover and she was killing more than enough for the both of them.

"Ah-" he said, pausing before continuing, before finding his words, "It's the real shit man."

Withdrawing the last of his tear gas grenades he held one in each hand and boggled as he peered at the oncoming roadblock rushing towards them, growing larger by the moment. Fumbling for his seat belt, he managed to click it in just in the nick of time. The last thing he wanted to do was to experience a windshield ejection. He'd seen that before and it had looked painful.