"Like hell I'm staying put," Matthew mutters, returning to the dead room only to find suitable weapons. He has his trusty pistol, of course, but that might be a bit extreme unless their assailants are truly after their heads.

He pockets a couple of his sharper surgical knives, and lights a fresh cigarette before moving back out into the hall. Quietly sidling up to the men trying to attack his lover, he casually presses the burning cigarette to the back of his exposed neck. The convict yowls and lets Drake go.

Matthew hadn't really thought about what to do next.