“Don’t sell me bullshit.” He hissed, eyeing you from across the room, gun at his side. Disappointment and hurt clouded his features as he recalled your past. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down as you unexpectedly appear amidst chaos. “Tell me what the fuck you’re doing?!” He slammed his palm against a nearby surface, sorrow and anger mixing in his tone. “Care to explain? Because I don’t fucking get it.” He barked, clearly upset. It’s no longer about the BSAA or the black market; it’s about your past and his betrayal.