Where did he go. Alex twists on the spot and slows, gaze swiveling laterally as he tries to focus on every flicker of movement simultaneously. The doors bang open and shut continuously on too-loose hinges. His grip on the gun is hot and slippery with his own sweat.

He fumbles with it briefly, trying to reload it while Bill is still...running? Hiding? Whatever he's doing. He jerks up to scan the surroundings with choppy, imprecise irregularity as he attempts to load more bullets into the gun without losing his advantage simultaneously.

"You gonna come out," he growls, drawing the words out with a hiss redolent of a latent threat, "or am I gonna have to come and find you."