"You wouldn't kill me," the man nearly laughed, eyes darting nervously back to the club door. "You wouldn't dare to -"

"Try us," Tom said, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears, tired and desperate, and I don't care who you are, all we need to do is use you.

"You're not going to get paid, but you might get out of here alive," Tom said, gun pointed at the man's spine.

"Put it down."

Whatever that put through the other man's head, a moment later, the weapon clattered to the oilslicked ally floor, and the ratty man kicked it over to Mike.

"No way to conduct business," he muttered acidly, "No way at all..."