[ Ray let it sink in. Kowalski was enjoying this, and who could blame him? Armando - Vecchio - had crushed his pride in every possible way, stomped him all but flat and shown him just how powerless he and the law were in Vegas. He'd taught him a lesson he would never forget, and now Ray himself was reaping the rewards of that education: so long as you were the one holding the gun, you had all the power. You could do whatever you liked.
Oh, he wished he'd broken a few of those teeth.
Kowalski was right; he'd managed to cover it all. He was in Canada, he was probably using Ray's own gun, and there were any number of guys who wanted him dead, people who would recognize his Buick and wait out there for him. It'd be a tragedy, but not a surprise. Hell, they'd probably have Kowalski carrying the fucking coffin.
Breathing slowly, he let his eyes drop closed, not willing to give Ray anything more. He put everything he had into looking cool and serene. He could feel Kowalski's focus, like he'd sensed it in the moment before he went out all guns blazing and shot down two guys without flinching. He wasn't a killer, no, but he had every reason to hate, and every reason to take advantage. He wanted to see Ray frightened, in pain maybe--who even knew? He didn't know how deeply Kowalski's vehemence went. It was hard to get a read on him, Ray hardly knew him at all.
Kowalski worked with Fraser. He needed glasses to shoot straight. He was energetic but it hid a frightening serenity, and he concealed his emotions under a shield of pure nerve. He could put his pride away for the sake of duty. But that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to reclaim that pride when the time came, either; they had that in common. He knew all this, but what else? Was Stanley the kind of man who'd shoot anyway? Had he killed people like Ray had? Could he shoot dead another person without thinking twice? Do it without passion, without remorse, unflinching as other people looked on? Could he deliberately cause pain, just because he'd been wronged?
He opened his eyes again. ]
Alright. [ He said, softly. ] You're here for revenge, I get it. Maybe I deserve it, I'm not gonna argue with that. [ He licked his lips, his first outward sign of anxiety since he'd frozen dead. ] I'm not gonna make any excuses, tell you I was just doing my job. We both know that was a judgement call.
[ His hands were still on the wheel. He squeezed it firmly, lifting his head off the seat, every movement careful so that Stanley could keep the gun steady. ]
You didn't plan for this, I get it, but you can think on your feet. You want me to drive somewhere, Stanley, or do you want to take this upstairs? I mean if you wanna just sit here we can do that too. You're the one with all the power. How about it?
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Oh, he wished he'd broken a few of those teeth.
Kowalski was right; he'd managed to cover it all. He was in Canada, he was probably using Ray's own gun, and there were any number of guys who wanted him dead, people who would recognize his Buick and wait out there for him. It'd be a tragedy, but not a surprise. Hell, they'd probably have Kowalski carrying the fucking coffin.
Breathing slowly, he let his eyes drop closed, not willing to give Ray anything more. He put everything he had into looking cool and serene. He could feel Kowalski's focus, like he'd sensed it in the moment before he went out all guns blazing and shot down two guys without flinching. He wasn't a killer, no, but he had every reason to hate, and every reason to take advantage. He wanted to see Ray frightened, in pain maybe--who even knew? He didn't know how deeply Kowalski's vehemence went. It was hard to get a read on him, Ray hardly knew him at all.
Kowalski worked with Fraser. He needed glasses to shoot straight. He was energetic but it hid a frightening serenity, and he concealed his emotions under a shield of pure nerve. He could put his pride away for the sake of duty. But that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to reclaim that pride when the time came, either; they had that in common. He knew all this, but what else? Was Stanley the kind of man who'd shoot anyway? Had he killed people like Ray had? Could he shoot dead another person without thinking twice? Do it without passion, without remorse, unflinching as other people looked on? Could he deliberately cause pain, just because he'd been wronged?
He opened his eyes again. ]
Alright. [ He said, softly. ] You're here for revenge, I get it. Maybe I deserve it, I'm not gonna argue with that. [ He licked his lips, his first outward sign of anxiety since he'd frozen dead. ] I'm not gonna make any excuses, tell you I was just doing my job. We both know that was a judgement call.
[ His hands were still on the wheel. He squeezed it firmly, lifting his head off the seat, every movement careful so that Stanley could keep the gun steady. ]
You didn't plan for this, I get it, but you can think on your feet. You want me to drive somewhere, Stanley, or do you want to take this upstairs? I mean if you wanna just sit here we can do that too. You're the one with all the power. How about it?