"You saw him first, that makes him your friend," he countered, and nodded at her formally before he stepped back into the gun, his entire manner casual and utterly confident that he wouldn't shoot though his voice is soft to avoid drawing attention. He'd picked a good moment, he supposed, with the police distracted over the commotion and the reveal of a body and the murder weapon. "What happened to your signature, Tony?" He asked easily, as if merely politely curious. "This isn't exactly the best weapon for such close quarters..."

In a flash his hand comes up to the other hit man's wrist, immobilizing it and causing his fingers to slacken, his grip loose on the gun. Reborn twisted in the crowd, giving Bianchi room to observe and to take her own steps while he held Barelli's arm behind his back. "Drop it," he whispered in a voice of silken menace. "And tell me what you're doing here. Or," he tilted his head in Bianchi's direction, "I'm sure you recognize my lovely escort for the evening."