"Oh, trust me when I tell you I'll do my best, Miss." [i]Was Lucky Luke's response, his own, cybernetic legs starting to quickly move him forwards as his right hand placed the Bolt Pistol at his right hip, magnets holding the gun in place. Lucas clenched his hands into fists - though they remained lowered, not going to swing just yet.. Though a hit would hurt a hell of a lot, considering his strength, and speed of twenty-five miles per hour. [/i]