Dense

Somehow his feelings weren't comprehensive to the crisis he was in. He should be feeling dread but, even at this very moment he felt the spark of fire that tethered him to the brunette. All his prior anxiety flew out of the window and his realization of surrender, with it. His line of thought circled around the hostile yet, heartwarming voice that demanded him. Her frightened glare among the two pale, and nicely manicured hands embracing the shotgun, scarred him. Or rather, it was the size of the ring on her left hand, that reflected off of the luster of the barrel, that proved that she was already taken. Though, if push came to shove, he was able to hold the muzzle of the shotgun and spin it around to settle it back on her. He still was able to control of his fate. She didn't shoot. Claire still wasn't able to witness his face, in the lowlights of the lamps, due to the depressions the shadows casted from the fedora. The heavy atmosphere demanded an incense burner to lift the settling aura of suspense, grasping onto their throats for acception. For Thames who didn't choose to intervene with his fate, had waited for what her very lips would proclaim.