The man shakes off O’Connor’s hands and straightens his clothes. “Look, I’m not trying to start no trouble. After the Twins, everything went to hell! Long Beach, Santa Monica? That shit was fraggin’ GONE! If I hadn’t visiting my babushka out in Barstow, *I* woulda been gone. You guys want to come back in and get your piece? Fine, better than the Italians anyway, and anything is better than the squints, ya know? But we have to start fresh and you got to protect people from the repercussions.” The man looks at Snow when he talks, clearly more worried about her than the gun pointed at him.