“I’m a stone-cold bastard hell-bent on revenge,” he adds helpfully.

Ninian looks impressed.

“No good will come of me, is what I’m saying.” He shakes his head. “Good thing there’s that three-day wait, right?” His feet are bare, and the white shirt tucked out from under his fleece is a cartoon sneer.

“There are ways around that,” she chuckles.

“Oh.”

She holds up the Deagle on one finger, letting it dangle, so big and fat and bright.

“You can sell me a gun, then?” His eyes are puppies.

Ninian nods gently, easy now.

“Are you sure?” he asks.