The man rolled his eyes. There was a begrudging respect in them, because even he knew the armed gunman was right about the Dojo. "Can't argue too much with that. And how do I know you're not a bunch of blood cultists about to do unspeakable things with this girl? Neither of us are guaranteed, so I say we break even. You take my word, I take yours. The name's Mason Cartier. I own Billhook Cleaners, just across the way from green." Slowly, as to not alarm the stranger, he unholstered his pistol by the barrel and tossed it over to him.