"You're a kite, dancing in a hurricane, Mr. Bond."
- Dec 30, 2020
- Baltimore, MD, USA
"Well yes ma'am," Sean replied in a mock Southern drawl, but his expression was playful as he stepped outside to call 911, holstering his weapon. But as soon as he pulled out his phone, the wail of sirens could be heard rapidly approaching, and a whole host of squad cars came barreling up to the restaurant. As the cops all filed out, they seemed to be surprised Sean was so calm. "Deputy Herden has the perp inside," he said, jerking his head back towards the restaurant. "Get a medic for the bastard, had to put a .45 through his leg. Mind if we make a discreet exit before the press gets here? I'll email you our statement." A Sergeant said, "Of course, Mr. Stewart," as he and the others filed past him and into the restaurant. The owner came up to him, breathless. "Fucking hell, that was...fuck. I'm gonna need a while to get all this cleaned up, but from now on you eat here free. You and your staff, your friends, whoever you like. Shit, I need a drink." He shook Sean's hand and seemed to go off to find his drink, and Sean went back inside to check on Ally.