Kevin was glad to see that everything was all right. Zara hadn't been harmed by the wounded bandit, and she even managed to kill him. Of course, that seemed to be the least of his worries, since the vampire was no screaming at him. She accused him of being a "fuckin' asshole" and of lying to her. He disagreed with both of those points, the latter more than the former, and he definitely wasn't going to let her abuse him just because he hadn't told her that he was a werehyena. He put on his best offended look, and took a step back as she threatened him. If she didn't stop, he supposed he would just have to find another payday. 

That gun shoved in his face wasn't really working for the man, though, and he couldn't help but growl. He wasn't capable of human speech at the moment, so a rumbling bass growl would have to do. It was the only warning Zara was going to get if she didn't calm down. He scanned their surroundings and determined they were safe for the moment, so he supposed now would be as good a time as ever to throw down, if it was going to happen. [i]She's cute, you should be nice to her.[/i] rang the voice in his head. "She's got a gun in my face." he rumbled back, the noise indistinguishable from the other animalistic sounds he could make. [i]Your loss![/i] the voice laughed and began to fade away. "How about you fucking help me out here, instead?" he rumbled again, this time it was obvious the sounds weren't supposed to be vocalized.

He heard the voice sigh, and then a shudder ran through his body, starting at his toes, and working its way up. [i]Good luck![/i] his invisible friend meant well, but the words didn't sound very reassuring. Another moment passed, and then he started to return to normal, his bulk receding as his human shape took over. He toppled to his knees as he regained his humanity, and Kevin groaned quietly when he could speak again. "Technically, I didn't lie, since I never actually said anything about what I was claiming to be." he offered as he got up off his knees and began to stretch. Two lines of bullet scars stitched across his torso. One was fresh, the other much older, the holes smaller and more frequent. He had a whole web of other scars as well, but almost all of them were concealed or worked into his equally complex collection of tattoos. Classic Americana styled art swirled across his torso, and in the right light, had a peculiar glow.

"I also didn't mention that I was trained as a shaman." he offered with a shrug. "You might as well shoot me for that too." he laughed at the suggestion, convinced that Zara wasn't going to shoot him. Kevin was so sure that he turned around and started picking through his things. His clothes were ruined, as he'd expected, but that's why he brought extra. Lucky for him, his chest rig and drop-leg holster were sill in good condition, the buckles having given out as designed. But then he realized the one very major problem. His favourite weapon was no longer functional. He'd apparently fallen harder than expected, and the forend had cracked. Worse than that, though, the force of his crushing weight had also mangled the recoil pistons to the point that they couldn't possibly operate as intended. It was a relatively simple fix, in theory, but he didn't have a parts kit handy, and he was pretty sure no one else would be carrying one either.

His light-hearted nonchalance disappeared when he realized that his shotgun was useless, and he groaned unhappily. He'd spent all that money for nothing. "I blame you for that one." he only mouthed the words, communicating with the voice in his head. The spirit had nothing to say on the matter, however, and the contractor decided to focus on getting dressed, at least for the moment. He could worry about weapons when he figured out whether Zara was going to want to keep hanging out with him or not...