Sawyer laughs hysterically. "You are... hilarious. For a Night, you are quite the, heh, gut buster. They are usually giant buzzkills. No, you're not dying. You are coming with me. My employer will do what he wants with you, I get paid, I get out of your hair." There is an awkward silence. "What the hell are you doing? Move," Sawyer says, waving his gun in the direction of the smiths exit.