This didn't feel right. The weight of it sitting in his hand was unnatural. The cool, sleek metal resting against his own palm. There was no perspiration, no worry, just one hope that was left with it all. One that left him questioning if he could do this, if it would work the way it was supposed to, if he would the way he was needed to. If all of this could go down without an issue or him freezing up at this new experience. Once the trigger was pulled, there was no going back. Everything would be different and in a way that would not suit him, but what choices were there to be had now? Nothing that would get him out of this. Not getting paid was a sin in its own right. It was one that meant there would be no getting fed or having a roof over his head, yet again. This wasn't going to do.

Dark eyes turning towards the man before him, the one to hand him the gun. There was a question in his own eyes. Did he need to point out that he didn't really know how to use it? Did it matter? It was just point and shoot, right? Outside of the safety? Flipping it back and forth in his hand was apparently the right and wrong move. It caused him to be left alone, as everyone was putting theirs away. Sliding their own in place, a spot in the back of their jeans. But this also gave Floyd the chance to actually take notice of where the safety was. This was definitely not the way that he saw playing cops and robbers as a kid. This was not the gun of a cowboy. On top of that, he knew better than to pull an impression of Dirty Harry right here. Yeah, because that would really instill faith in someone you just handed a loaded weapon.

Feeling as if eyes were on him, even though they weren't, he mimicked the actions everyone else in the group had taken. Nodding, but not really listening to how things were to play out. He heard this speech before, knew his job, and that all this added reminder wasn't for him. The only thing he worried about, was actually having to use that which was against his back now. Still unnatural, and left him wanting to move it again. Simple re-positioning or getting the hell out of dodge, but neither happened.

Once everything was geared to go, Floyd sat there staring out the window, watching the world go by. He didn't want to think about where this would lead him or where life was going to change for it. Not for the worst, anyway, because that was an all too probable issue now that he still had that metal sticking him in his back. Safety was still on, right? Once they stopped, worry set in as they left him behind in the car. A feeling that was only followed by relief. This he could handle. Watching the minute hand on his watch, he sat there letting it tick away, as did his thoughts. He didn't want to drive around the block so many times in wait. That brought upon too much attention. No, he was to sit and wait on the time he was given. Nervous, his hands felt clammy, but he was just about to start the engine, when he heard it. Sirens. That was not part of the deal. This wasn't supposed to happen.

He needed to keep a straight head, needed to think. There was no way that he was going to be able to get anyone out like this, but above all, no one getting out meant he didn't get paid. At least he could trust not to be snitched on if any of them decided to come out alive. Whether it was honor among thieves or the fact that none of them actually knew him, it wouldn't matter. He was a ghost, comparatively. Still underage. Moving out of the car, he moved to get a better view of the street. Eyes widening, behind sunglasses, he knew there was no real direction to go. It was already blocked off. Something he would have at least caught, if he had been driving around instead of sitting here.

Turning around, he walked in the other direction. Gun still at his back, but his shirt large enough not to allow it to be seen. He tossed the car keys in a garbage can that he spotted along the way. His heart still pounding, as if he had already been a part of this entire scene himself. He needed to get further away, before his face became readable. Paranoia practically dripping from him with each new step. Idly, Floyd was left wondering what he could get for the gun. It wouldn't be today. There was no telling what that might tip off. More so as he stopped dead in his tracks. Hearing loud shots taken, his blood ran cold. He could have been in that. It could have been him. Feet moved out from under him faster than his own thoughts could process. Taking off down an alleyway, Floyd didn't stop until his chest hurt too much to take more.

Sitting down in a crouch, he tried to bring himself to terms with everything. This was beyond what he usually did. He wasn't ready. Why had he been so stupid? It was a question that would continue to be asked later on, as someone moved in on him. A large, dirty man, with a smug look on his face. "You okay, kid?" he tried, with an over done, all too false sort of niceness about him. Just what he needed, something else that was off. Floyd's instincts were on point though. With no answer, the man tried to get rough with him, yelling at him when he wouldn't answer. Then he even tried to take him by the arm and pull him with him. Trying to pull away, he refused to yell. Some bum and he was in his area. Why so territorial? With an all too calm composure, as if on automatic, he reached back with his free hand and pulled out the gun. Being dragged as he was, the man didn't notice until it was too late. Floyd shot him in the side. Letting him go and slumping, Floyd didn't know what hurt more or care. Instead, he just went running again.