The fact that he was now very obviously locked inside the [i]Ranger[/i] did more to phase Jean Wylder than being surrounded by a pack of hungry Coyslugs. As the hydraulic metal plates sealed the only two possible exits his hand went instinctively for his pistol and the weapon was drawn and raised almost before the mechanisms hissed securely into place. Spitting out his cigarette Jean took a moment to calm down glancing between the door and porthole a few times to mentally process what’d just occurred.

	[color=0072bc]“Ah shit, of course they ‘ave a secured office, why in th’ hell wouldn’t they. Makes sense right ya untrusting piss-bags. Lock me in 'ere will ya. First drugged, then locked in a office library. It ain't my fucking week now is it.” [/color]Jean angrily shoved his pistol away and stalked over to the viewing port trying it with his knife blade. No amount of leveraging could even push the long blade in-between the durasteel plating making escape essentially impossible. Unless he had a magma-eleven level blow torch and ten hours to make the necessary cuts. Neither of which he possessed. Returning to his chair Jean picked up his abandoned book beating out a rhythmic tattoo on the hardback cover. Obviously he’d been made. They’d either sniffed him out as a known sheriff or strongly suspected he was an undercover cop, neither of which bode well for Jean. Hardened criminals might’ve just killed him on the spot, so he was lucky in that regard. He had space to fight to the last at least even if it is a short battle, as there wasn’t much potential for epic last stands in the cramped office space. Of course there was always the chance they were testing him, trying to sweat out a confession by keeping him locked up for a few hours. What better way of rooting out bad business partners or sting operatives then putting them under a strenuous amount of pressure? Jean really didn’t have any way of knowing for sure until Mac or someone else returned, and at that point it could be with open arms or a gun set to kill. Sighing Jean reopened the book, briefly scanning over the words. There was only one tried and tested way of finding out, and that was sitting pretty with a smile on his face and one hand on his pistol grip.

	Of course Jean didn’t even consider the one thing that did happen.

	After several long minutes the sealed door slid back and Mac returned accompanying a young women who Jean could only assume was Ursa Cooper. For the longest time he stared uncomfortably back at her, making sure to close the book he’d been reading and set it on the desk. Normally she might've been very pretty, with her black hair and pale features, but at the moment she looked as if she’d just been through a rough day. Jean's sore hand twinged and he smiled in despite of himself. He could relate all too well. But what was off was the way she was staring at him, sounding almost flustered… Not what Jean had been expecting at all.

	[color=0072bc]“Howdy y'all.” [/color]Jean replied at last, slightly unsure of how to respond to this development. Mac and Ursa whispered something to each other that Jean couldn't hear. Jean still suspected weapons would be drawn at any moment and stayed tensed up. Nevertheless he put on his best relaxed act, touching the brim of his hat and standing up to introduce himself. [color=0072bc]“Th’ name’s Jean Wylder, I was here to talk business… Are ya alright miz Cooper? Pardon my sayin’, but ya look a little roughed up.”
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