Well, that was a tad disappointing.

Collins didn't linger too long staring down at the crumpled marshal despite this unfortunate feeling. He might have to give Givens a new nickname. He thought a bull might have more to give than that. With a mental shrug, the Butcher began a low whistle as he drug Givens back into the room he'd just left and took a look around.

After some time, the killer had Givens tied up into the single chair inside the quaint room. He was good with knots, careful and precise with them, just a little give but not enough to make use of in any way. Sometimes he enjoyed watching the struggle, and even more so the moment when the prey realized there was actually no way out. It was only a ruse.

He took a seat on the bed since there was no other chair and waited, casual and relaxed, for the good marshal to come back around. Everything useful--guns, mags, bullets, knives, and yes even the hat--were set aside well out of reach of the lawman. Collins appeared to have empty hands but there was surely a weapon somewhere close by if he wanted one.