Senseless gazes went around; guns turned to naught but crushed trash. Charlie stood with the hand in the air, not a few seconds had gone before the gesture to aim was given. The clean shaved face stuck itself in a stupor, lowering one's arm felt awkward, the more seconds pass the farther the tension grew. Staxius stood beside Renaud and Courtney, one of which was far more impressed than the other.
"Room for discussion," added Charlie slowly, the hand lowered with the pace of a snail, "-what is there to discuss?" he asked keeping a cool face.
"First of all," spun to face the wife who abandoned her family, "-I'm sure the lady is hurt. Her cries have stained the shoulder of the man who hails from the Jefferson's. Not that any had the guts to speak; I would have let it be, that is," glaring back, "-only if thou didn't get cocky." Strongly stepped to the lady, the face turned to the man, young in age, tall, dark-skin, brownish-hair, hazel eyes, a well-rounded nose toppled by freckles.
