He turns around to look at the two men, but it's like he's moving through molasses. Even lifting his arm feels like the hardest thing he's ever done. He wants to say something to Meyer, wants to tell him he's not leaving him again, but all that comes out of his mouth is a whispered croak.

And then the shot hits.

He staggers, hitting the pool table behind him. His movements are still slowed, the pain he must be feeling far away in his mind. The men are gone, just as soon as they came, and he knows this clear as day even though he can't see the door. Blood is pooling on the table as he falls backwards, seeming to take an eternity.