Coop, thankfully, doesn't try and make a witty remark. He doesn't try and be funny even if he wanted to say something about Chloe ordering him around and telling him what to do. He could have mouthed off with something flirtatious and funny but even he knew it wasn't the right time. Nate had a knife to his throat, he was carrying a damn gun and there was some inept cult trying to sacrifice his friend to some god.

What the hell kind of people had he aligned himself with? Darrow was going to drive him into drinking more or straight into therapy. Possibly he was going to take a beer to a therapy appointment or something.

Coop took a quick breath and stepped up to the man holding Nate. He drove the butt of the gun down into the back of his neck, doing it once more for good measure to make sure the guy was going to end up a crumpled heap at his feet. The man fell back into his legs though and Coop stumbled, proceeding to drop the gun on the unconscious man's face and busting his nose open.

"Goddammit," Coop said, swiping the gun up and making a face. "I hate this city."