Quick as a snake, she snatches the gun back, her thumb moving instinctively to cock it, before she grimaces and pauses, halting the smooth swing up to aim it at his forehead.

No business in the bar. For some reason, she hears it in Dolls' voice.

Though maybe she shouldn't be surprised. The guy loves his rules. "I don't know how you got here," she says, low and dangerous. "But why don't we take this outside, and you can tell me just exactly what the hell you are. Or I can make a mess of this bar and get tossed in the slammer for a few days."

Her eyes are hard as she watches him. "Your choice, Stretch."