[He frowns.] I don't much care for the idea of you firing a submachine gun. Check underneath your seat.

[He nudges the wheel to the right and swings around the bus so fast, the back end of the car nearly fishtails. He only grimaces as the bus driver, reacting much quicker than a lot of folks, tries to break, blaring his horn. As the bus slows down, Moran presses down on the gas and sweeps into the bus's broad right side, cutting off their view of the other car for a few seconds.]

And for the love of Christ, remember to aim.