By the time Jack was finished with the three men the crime scene was a scattered mess. Blood, brain and bodies littered the roadway and they, or rather Jack, was fortunate that another car didn't pass by in the time it took him to slay them. Declan looked about with a curious scan as he gathered himself, yet there was only so much one could do after a good roll in the dust. That, and he was certain that his clothing was ruined on account of all the blood. 

While Jack seemed to waste no time with hearing what the criminals had to say, he walked with the gait of a man well beyond his years and with no mercy left to spare. Which was why Declan was all the more interested in how such a young man could look another straight in the eyes right before firing a bullet between them. He wasn't so much spooked by it as he was astounded that someone so young could have the will to do so without a second thought or a single hesitant finger on his pistol. Then again, Declan was used to loud noises and a gunshot wasn't all that frightening if it wasn't shot your direction, was it? He didn't suppose Jack was going to rob him even armed and dangerous as he was. Not with the way he went about saving him. Something about the boy was heavier, more bitter than a common criminal staking another's winnings. At least, that's what Declan assumed when Jack had bit back his tears right before killing the last. 

Something about it all was oddly funny to him, in a peculiar kind of way. That Jack carried all of the burden and emotion of what Declan should have felt shortly after nearly being pummeled to death. And for whatever reason Jack was the one punishing these men like some kind of violent godsend while Declan watched and smeared the blood from his face with his forearm. Why then was Jack so adamant about tormenting these men before death if it was just to defend him? He toyed around with them like a falcon to a field mouse but didn't waste a second for their blubbering. 

In the meantime when Jack had just finished up with the final man and the body matter that had escaped upon being shot, Declan inspected the contents of the wooden case some few yards away. He unlocked the metal clasps, relieved to find that his instrument had not perished in any way only to close it up right after as Jack approached. 

Perhaps now wasn't the best time to ask if Jack was okay on account of his red eyes. He looked as though he'd spent his whole life crying despite the rest of him carrying a sort of smoothness that would have otherwise fooled him. So when he found his way back, offering a bloody hand out to him as well as a name, Declan couldn't refuse shaking the hand of the man who'd stood between him and death. Surely, there was a way to repay him after such a gratuitous rescue. With that reasoning, he extended his own hand and clasped onto Jack's. 

"Declan. Now, that was quite a show there. For a moment I woulda thought you'd pick up where they left off."