Jaxon walked out of the event, Owen and Greg trailing beside, their guns obviously in their pockets in case things didn't get pretty.
“Where did you find him?” He asked Owen, whose professional stance was unwavering.
“By the toilet sir,” Owen replied, “they talked about coming out to—”
He was cut short by the sound of a knife heading in their direction— no, in Jaxon's direction.
But he was quick to dodge, immediately turning to where a man in dark green stood.
Owen and Greg instinctively bought out their guns, directing it to him.
“No, don't shoot.” Jaxon ordered, taking short strides towards the already trembling man who knew his fate. “Where's Blodcard?”
“M-M-M—” was all he could make out. Then he did the dumbest thing by reaching into his pocket, about to bring out another knife.
