The gun cocked as he raised it toward her. "Give me your money." His eyes stared at her own eyes firmly, holding an empty sack in his hands.
The room stood empty, everyone else had fled the moment the gun came out. Unfortunately, the barista had to earn her wages, and so she stayed. "No." She drummed one set of fingers on the counter, while she hid the other set from view.
"Don't make me shoot." His eyes narrowed, as sweat began to trickle down his left temple.
"Don't make me." Her hidden hand pulled out her own gun, which she used to mirror his actions.
His gun thudded to the floor as his feet swept through the door as fast as they could take him.
She set down the gun and picked up the phone, dialing the police. With a unshaken voice she told the dispatcher the details of her latest adventure. "You might want to arrest this guy before I have to use my Christmas present on him. I'd hate to have to waste this ammo."
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