In the moment, he just reacted. He supposed a part of him had been on high alert after what Donovan had mentioned about his friend Heinrich and the journal. The two guys that had entered, at least one of them speaking with a Slavic accent, put him on more of an alert – one that kept growing as they made their way toward the back of the restaurant. All he could think was that he had to get them out – keep them away from Donovan and everyone else – they seemed dangerous.
His instinct was proven right when they pulled guns. Part of him panicked, worried that people in the restaurant might be hurt. But it was a part quickly buried, and he reacted, his military training guiding his body to attack the attacker before they could do harm. When Raiden stepped in, he wanted to yell at him, tell him to back off…but that might have broke his concentration enough to let the guy who’s arm he was drying to break, or dislocate if possible, try something and maybe get his gun back. He just had to pray to the Mórrígan that this would be a day no one he worked with, no one innocent, would get hurt. If he had to get hurt to protect others, so be it – but hopefully that wouldn’t mean his death.
Sure, he’d been depressed the last couple of years between his pain and his breakup, but that didn’t mean he had a death wish. He wanted to be alive for his family. He wanted to be alive for his friends. Most importantly, he wanted to be alive to connect with someone. He missed being in a relationship, and his dates over the last year or so hadn’t been more than one or two – just nothing he was looking for.
He returned his focus to what he was doing, hearing the crack of a bullet going off somewhere, and people panicking before he heard a crack from the bones of the man he’d grappled the gun away from. This fight could end up being brutal – there were plenty of weapons in the kitchen, and he hoped someone had been intelligent enough to call 911. But in those minutes of waiting, there was no telling what would happen, or how long they would stretch, or who could get hurt. Goddess protect us, he thought, and focused on the fight at hand.