There's something coming through the door now. A man, maybe two men, he can't quite make out the figures. The room is suddenly too dark to see properly, although he could have sworn that it had been well lit only moments before. Whoever they are, whoever's opened that door, are walking towards them closely, and while he somehow can't make out their faces yet, he can see that there are two of them, that they're carrying guns, that they're walking almost ominously slowly.

He knows, somehow, that they're here for Charlie. He doesn't know how he knows, only that he's seized by an irrational fear. He finds himself unable to speak as he watches their approach, realizes that he doesn't have a gun on him. The men, whose faces are still obscured by shadow and by their hats that they wear tipped down low on their foreheads, seem to be taking forever to approach them, the room somehow growing bigger, giving them more space to cross.

He wants to warn Charlie to run, but he can't speak.