Ghent lurched forward as the vehicle halted, stopping himself from falling further by grabbing onto the headrest. He simultaneously reached his left arm across to prevent Elayra from hitting the back of Miles' seat, startled by the backlash. "You okay?!"
	Amidst the chaos, Ghent wondered if the suddenness of the stop was because of a crossing pedestrian. The thought was immediately dispelled when Miles turned away from the wheel, not an ounce of sanity found within his face. 	
	"No one said you were crazy." Speaking as calmly as he could manage, Ghent gripped the headrest tighter, eyes landing towards the gun. He was within reach. "This was supposed to be civil, remember?" 
	The only sound louder than Ghent's own heart pounding was the click of the pistol. Elayra's signal hadn't gone unmissed; she wasn't always the easiest person to read, but he understood. It was now or never.
	The 'no sudden moves' rule didn't last long. As Elayra pulled the dagger, Ghent lunged forward to tackle Miles' arm. Ghent practically threw himself into the man, gripping his wrist with both hands in order to keep the barrel aimed away from them. "[i]Drop it![/i]"  
	Miles elbowed Ghent and fought for control of the weapon with an enraged shout, only to surrender when he felt the cold metal blade touch his neck. Roaring in frustration, the drunkard started to go into a tirade about 'his' portal, and about how they had no right to take it from him. 
	While Miles cursed their very existence, Ghent fell back in his seat, lifting the pistol towards the man. "Alright, cool it!"
	The tirade stopped. Miles breathed heavily, eyes darting between the two teenagers and their newly acquired weapons. A flicker of fear crossed his face until the look morphed into anger again. "You won't get far," he growled, tilting his head back to avoid being cut by the blade. "If you leave now, you'll never make it!"
	Ghent watched him intently. Although Miles was at their mercy, he didn't trust what the man was capable of. His insanity made him unpredictable, and his desperation made him dangerous.
	"Who says we're leaving?" Ghent enjoyed the freedom to be mouthy again. Being a hostage limited that. He waved the pistol towards the right, motioning for the drunkard to exit the vehicle. "Get moving!" 
	Miles' eyes narrowed. He didn't seem to believe Ghent capable of wielding a gun, let alone using it. 
"I'd rethink what you're doing, boy..." If looks could kill, the pair would have never made it to Wonderland. 
	Ghent didn't waver. What Miles doubted was true: he didn't have the guts to use the gun, but he had a feeling Elayra didn't have the same problem when it came to her dagger. 
	"I don't have to rethink anything," Ghent jerked his head in Elayra's direction so that Miles would remember whose mercy he was[i] really [/i]at. "But you should."