"In one whole meaty piece, Tommy-boy!" Sawyer screams, sliding over the metal booth and running with extreme grace from one Night to another, blowing their heads off. He is as swift as a tornado on the prairies, or a ballerina on the stage. Except he is seeming Night to hell with a inhumanely large boomstick. After not a single Night lackey lives, Sawyer turns around with a s mile from ear to ear, and says, "I was waiting for the day when the Night actually put up a fight. Sadly, I'm still waiting." Sawyer walks down to the bar with Tom following in suit, and Sawyer reaches behind it and pulls out a whiskey and two glasses, and pours both.