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[i]It was louder than thunder by far. Anybody unacquainted with bombs would have briefly thought it was one, despite it being a gunshot. Donny's body smoothly shifted clockwise right as Grafitti jumped up, and a section of the front of his coat the size of a baseball was blown out of existence by a .460 buffalo bore round. His right elbow was obscured by his turning body, the revolver having been pulled up alongside the bulletproof vest and fired flatly across it so that no distinctive bumps would have forewarned Grafitti that Donny had either drawn a gun or aimed it.

His right hand never left the grip of his Magnum through the hole in his coat pocket. When your gun is as big as Donny's, it helped in quickdraws to have a paw already on it at all times. The gangster's expression didn't change one bit. He still didn't blink. 

But his cigarette was not lit. He wasn't intending to kill anyone, for the time being, not that he wasn't flexible about that habit. 

Instead of trying to shoot Grafitti, he'd aim to obliterate her pistol before she could draw and aim it. If his shot was true, and it often was, her firearm would burst apart into lego-like shrapnel. It'd be a horror show if one of those Magnum rounds hit a human being, even one with military grade body armor.

Donny would continue to steadily watch Grafitti after firing in case anything sudden occurred. This one took no chances. The only way to ensure one's survival in a potential gunfight was to not get aimed at in the first place.[/i]

[i][color=f26522]"Sorrah 'bout that. Ah'll buy yah a newwun. Anahways, les' talk abaowt yah chum Red Claw."[/color][/i]