"Tell your rats to get the gun out of my face," Ryan said, his voice low and even, but with a hint of menace lurking beneath the surface. He didn't flinch or back down. His jaw was clenched, his teeth gritted, and his shoulders were squared, every muscle in his body tense and ready for action.
Director Arlo let out a loud, booming laugh, the sound echoing off the cold, metallic walls like a crack of thunder. "Still got the attitude, boy," he said with amusement, his words drawn out in a slow, mocking drawl. He shook his head, a sly grin spreading across his face like a crack in a mirror. "I always knew you had spirit, Ryan. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."
