Hansel shook his head, rising from his seated position with a small grunt and a bit of rocking, his knees protesting slightly. He still had bruises from Garrett's assault along his thigh, and the scuffle with Theo had left his legs sore and protesting. Shaking one leg to get the feeling back in it, he met Joe's eyes, slid his hands into his pockets, wincing slightly at the shooting pain in his left arm.
"That's an antique," he said, nodding towards the gun as he bent to pick up his bag, his sketchbook. He looped the FAMAS over one shoulder, the Winchester 88 - Cody's weapon - he kept at his side, fingers curled around it.
He ripped the page he was working on with two free fingers that weren't clutching the older model of gun, nodding towards one of the two daypacks.
"I kuh-cleaned them out of food and w-water, but left the ammo for that in Puh-hatton's bag. Might be a manual, I don't know. Figure it out."
He turned to leave, made it a few steps before stopping. He felt compelled to speak, to warn Joe that if he saw him again, he'd have to kill him. To tell him that if it could be anyone other than Hansel winning this whole thing, he might be open to Joe being the alternative.
"Joe..." he began, turning to look at him, half over his shoulder. After a moment, he let the ripped out sketchbook paper flutter to the ground, lifting a shoulder.
"Kuh-heep your head up."
Hansel walked away, leaving a half-formed sketch of a long wooden fence surrounding a pasture, with animals and people dotting it in the distance. Clouds were wispy in the sky, a half drawn stable stood proudly.
On one of the fence posts sat a stetson.
((Hansel Williams, The Mad And Hungry Dogs