He was quiet for the most part, intelligent in this caustic and sarcastic kind of way, like he knew he was smarter and faster and had more nerve. But fuck, he never used it, not until that day lined up at the strip mall, the sun blotted out and the air fogged with mist and a line of crazy assholes out for all of us. When he started shooting it was like something he'd locked up inside came out to play – and since then he hasn't smiled.
So goddamned deadly quiet. Like a rattlesnake or a scorpion – the only warning given far too late.
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