James walks backwards, watching the group's shadows as they hustle, and tries to distinguish any threats that could be hiding amound them.
A cold sweat springs up on his palms, lessening his grip on the revolver, and forcing him to squeeze tighter. His knucles turn white and his teeth grind while they are clenched. His eyes dart back and forth, absorbing every movement made within his field of vision and trying to dcipher them all at once to find an enemy.