The sound that escapes Jack’s throat is almost too good for Nisha to pass up on- but luckily (or unluckily depending) for Jack the gunslinger’s claws are currently too deep in another nefarious plot. Once he gets the picture a quiet and throaty laugh bubbles from her lips. He caught on pretty fast- good. Nisha didn’t have the patience for repeating herself.
As Jack grips the pistol’s handle, the lawbringer can’t help but note he doesn’t look half bad with a weapon between those fingers… only coming second to a throat of course. The prospect of having Maggie to show off sealed the deal and that look he was giving only cemented his intent to win. “Mm, nah can’t kill ya yet, handsome. We’ve got loooaadds of more fun to have.” A feral gaze narrows wickedly. Pursing purple lips she seems to mull over the idea (of murder) in her thoughts before she spins the weapon between her fingers and aims.
Without hesitation she lets off a shot, zinging past Jacks head and nestling itself in the steel wall behind them both. With the now hot barrel of her gun she tilts his chin up, curious (and amused) eyes tracing his face for signs of discomfort. The telling grin on her maw screamed lethal intent while a rough grip on yellow fabric pulled him closer. “Lots” Her voice is candy coated venom, sweet to the ears and downright malicious at its core but her answer is clear.
The more hurt, the better.
A few moments pass, her gaze locked on him and cooling metal still pressed up against his skin before she shoves him back playfully with a laugh. “Tick tock, tick tock lover boy. Better get some of those fancy bullets of yours before I start usin’ my own.”
Jack can only blink as the bullet whizzes by his head, narrowly avoiding scratching his perfect new face. He’s gotten pretty used to being shot at ever since the thing with the Lost Legion, and his ex-girlfriends threaten him with bodily harm all the time, so, he’s proud of the fact that he’s managed to suppress his flinch.
“Whoa-ho-ho, easy there, kitten. Playing before the whistle blows, very naughty.” He hisses, the metal of the muzzle burning under his chin and clicking against the clasp there. He recovers with coy-lidded eyes and a smirk, a sliver of white teeth cutting through his nervousness at the prospect of gun fighting with Nisha Kadam. As fun as he knows it’ll be, he also knows that the odds really aren’t in his favor. Like, at all. But he’s good at beating odds. Good luck, champ.
Her voice, thick and heavy like syrup, makes his skin crawl in the best of ways, and he almost trips over himself when she shoves him backwards. He brushes the front of his shirt down in a sore gesture, and rubs the painful warmth from the underside of his chin.
“Alright, alright, have some patience, pumpkin.” His voice bounces with his usual amount of sarcasm, but he does put in the command to digistruct some ammo. The non-lethals, he’s decided. And maybe some med-hypos. And the really expensive kind of booze. It’s gonna be a fun night.