"Just how stupid do you think I am?" he laughs hysterically and I think, really fucking stupid. But he knows as well as I do that he's not getting out of here with anything as clean as that. There's no deal to be made for him, and those words Tom's spouting out are just empty platitudes. A distraction, but maybe in that way, they're working.

He's lost his focus, lost his patience, and with both hands on the gun, steadying it, I look up at him, making out the shape of his eyes in the dark, glittering with the faint light coming from the cracked door across the room, and we just... look at each other for the span of a heartbeat before his lip curls back in a snarl and he pulls the trigger.

Click.