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Brian Dennehy

Brian Dennehy is preparing to die for your sins.

“I’ve had six other hostage negotiators in here,” he’ll say, muzzle trembling at his temple, BDRI scrawled on his forehead in blood. “You’re not going down like they did. Not this time.”

Remind him that your background is in carpentry.

Brian Dennehy will already be wrapping your fingers around the grip. “Appropriate,” he’ll say. “Carry my beam for me, little Cyrenian?”

Tell him you don’t remember the story going quite this way.

“You will this time,” he’ll say, your finger between his and the trigger. “You’ll pay attention. Attention must be paid.”

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