"Nonsense! You just need to concentrate." He pulled the trigger and a bullet tore through his thigh, embedding itself in the walnut-effect laminate flooring. She shook her head.
She started, "I did say..." but trailed off as he gritted his teeth, took aim then fired again.
His lower leg flopped to the ground as his thighbone splintered and gave out. He furrowed his brow and went to raise the revolver again but paused. The damned mole on his knee didn't seem so much as troubled by the whole ordeal, let alone removed.
"Ah," he uttered, raising one finger. "No, my mistake. Dreadfully sorry. You're right--it does smart a little. Could you possibly ring for an ambulance?"
The alternate Morning Discussion blurb for today follows: That snow, eh? Tsk! Can't decide whether it's coming or going. Wotta loada old tosh and no mistake, my son.
If you have BioShock 2 chat to chat, hey, here's a dedicated chat thread.