[@fluorescent][@Xandrya]


[b][color=ed1c24]*BLAMM*[/color][/b]

[i]The revolver went off the moment Graffiti finished saying the word "fucking". Had the killer aimed for the spray can above her head? No, far too obvious and a waste of ammunition. His gun flicked two inches to the side in an instant, there being practically no time to register the untelegraphed adjustment before Graffiti's lower jaw and neck were, if Donny had his way, pulped by a bullet big enough to provide a dentist with enough filling to correct a polar bear's tooth cavity. She might even be decapitated, considering how smaller caliber M16 rifles severed enemy arms in Nam.

Donny's expression and body language scarcely changed as he fired. If anything, a faint look of tolerant curiosity crossed his features, as if he were actually interested enough to let the heroine finish her sentence. To escape death, Graffiti would need to somehow know the exact moment that Donny was going to fire, or know that he was going to fire in the first place. Many experienced aimdodgers and bullet timers had met their match in Donny, for as much effort as they expendef in avoiding gunfire, Donny trained just as much to be able to hit them. The same with Lily, who would likely be acting in vain if she tried to push her companion out of the way or the like. She'd leave herself open by doing so. It would be harder than guessing which mole was going to pop out of the hole in that arcade game with the foam bat. Such was being on the wrong end of a gun.

But unless Lily tried something too, Donny wouldn't shoot her, though he'd have no problem trying, for Graffiti's surprise wouldn't at all make the killer miss something that Lily did.[/i]