*the shotgun is gripped tighter, the trigger finger itching on the unspent round.* "Hell, I'd love to heah an apology. And I'd be flat-out amused if you'd plead for your life. But you know that neither one would make a damn bit of difference if my mind was made up." *the shotgun stays leveled for another few seconds, and the dark eyes behind it seem to narrow. Suddenly, the shotgun is swung to the side, the barrels pointed away from Jack just before the trigger is pulled. The resounding, deafening blast of the gun echoes sharply in the quiet country air...but nothing has been harmed except for a tree. The chunks of bark and splinters of wood take a few more seconds to land, as the barrel of the shotgun smokes thinly.* "Yeah, my mind was made up. I ain't a killer, Jack. I just wanted to show you that I could fight like hell. Ya see, for all I knew, you had second thoughts about what went down in Atlanta, and you came heah to get a different endin'." *with this, tosses the spent shotgun away*