Mike rolls his eyes. "If by 'political' you mean 'completely ready to murder your ass,' then yes, we're extremely political." He leans in a little, still holding the gun up, but the gun isn't even the real threat. He's done things to people that had them weeping, begging, and a gun never had anything to do with it. Part of him is dead and cold and always will be, now. He doesn't need to see himself to know that it's showing in his eyes.

"Where outside town?" His free hand moves, and it settles on the hilt of his knife. "You tell me now, you walk away. You might even do it in one piece." His gaze hits the man's bloody chin and he remembers the sound of teeth hitting the pavement, and to his own horror he feels himself grin. "Mostly."

He never wanted Tom to see him like this, no matter how many times he already has. Maybe it's a blessing that Neil isn't here.