"I don't want, or need your D**** help" Jean retorted, a single semi-automatic held firmly in her grasp, pointed at Bella. "why do you need your brother? whats your game?" she implied, a suspicious gleam rooting itself into her irises.
Grayson whipped his head to look at Jean, "Jean......" he began, eyeing her pistol for a moment. they did in fact need help. Jean and grayson hadn't eaten in two days.