Booker barely controlled his need to chuckle when he felt what could only be the muzzle of a revolver press into his stomach. The man made a very good case and Booker really didn't want his parents hearing about how he went out due to a gut shot fired by the very people he had left to join. That would be a sad day indeed. Mentally admitting the draw Booker removed his finger from the trigger, clicked the safety on and got to his feet, quickly following the stranger in holstering his weapon, albeit in a lot less flashier way. 

"You think we got business cards or somethin'?" The man dusted off his pants with both hands. "You don't become a Peacer. You just are one. You wake up one day and pick up a gun and that's it. What you do with it makes you one of us. There ain't exactly an official rulebook. But the password for the shitter is "Nancy", FYI."

“Great, thanks! After having a revolver to my gut I think I might need a shit... So what, I go out and live my life as per usual only this time I call myself a Peacer? Seems a bit loose to me mate, but you'd know, right? Ah, fuck it, I guess I'll return to the interview room and get told... Whatever the fuck it is you get told in an open ended organisations interview. A pleasure Long John who sailed the seven asshole seas.”

With that Booker let out a massive sigh, rubbed the sweat from his brow and turned to walk away, all the while thinking what a fucking afternoon it had been.