"You say it's yours." Lance smiled and cocked the hammer, then raised the pistol toward him, "Can you make it agree?"
This was no longer a warning, but a blatant threat.
The fat man looked at the dark gun muzzle, definitely not wanting the musket to "respond" to him.
But he's threatening me with my own gun, what sort of world is this?
Damn beast—beast!!!
"You can take the musket, but give back the magic wand." The fat man's face was starting to crack, his forced calm giving way to twitching...
Taking the musket was one thing, it's a nice thing, but just an ordinary weapon, whereas the magic wand must be retrieved.
"What do you mean give it to me? This was originally mine." Lance didn't care about his attitude at all, not mentioning the magic wand.
Sheep are meant to be fleeced, the two were adversaries to begin with; sparing his life was already generous of Lance.
