Once the laughter was behind him there was a moment he started to reach for his own gun, carried concealed but still there. It was through sheer willpower that he broke his own habit and stopped. He couldn't stop his hackles from raising, though.

He didn't give the corpse another glance: it had been an incredibly convincing ploy after all, and one that he wouldn't fall for again.

"Not often I get a prize for killin' someone." Unless one counted getting paid, he supposed. His tone was just as measured as the expression he wore - it would be a minute before he returned back to how he was before.

"Wouldn't be so lucky to have you teach me that neat little trick'f yours, would I?" Despite his flat tone and measured expression he could still joke.