The solution was very simple, and it was one that was very familiar to anyone who'd had even the smallest amount of experience with children. It might have seemed to a newcomer that the best option in dealing with kids was to be unrealistically kind and forthcoming, but it was not so. Anyone, not solely children, as a matter of fact, would push and push and gain confidence and push some more as they realized they could, and they could get away with it. For, if the hand that feeds is not controlling and those fed are allowed to take as much as they'd like, that hand might just soon be missing a finger or two.

It seemed that Danny was now firing excessively because he knew he could; he knew Vlad would not reprimand or try to defend himself. As far as Danny knew, Vlad was a groveling weakling without a hint of self-respect who was practically selling himself to get out of this with all his limbs intact. In a sense, he was allowing Danny to shoot by playing into his game in this way, because in reality the ill-advised teenager would fire his pistol either way, whether he begged and pleaded or got to his feet and wrestled him to the floor for the weapon. His begging was not only allowing him to shoot—because if he did attack Danny, he thought he might have a chance to get the gun unscathed—but he was also giving him a sick pleasure in doing so.

Done groveling, but he would not charge the armed teenager like a fool. He knew better, for his own safety and for Daniel's sake. After all, would a parent or a babysitter attack their child for a stolen box of cookies? Because while those cookies might be returned to their rightful place, the child was not; the child was emotionally—and in this case would be—physically scarred. Vlad knew that if he were to do this he might escape relatively unharmed, but Daniel would not be so lucky. He was sure he would fight, and he'd be forced to use his ghost powers to get him under control. Now, harming Daniel who was really very helpless to his power was the last thing he wanted to do, especially under such circumstances.

So instead he sat up, mustering up all the strength he could to twist the muscles in his face to form a snarl, conjuring up emotions of rage that may or may not have derived from Danny, anything to make himself appear strong and intimidating. Clenching his fists, he uttered with some difficulty, "Danny, put the gun down." Controlling his stutter proved to be almost impossible.

Danny looked genuinely surprised, and did not seem to bother to hide it. "What'd you just say?"

"Put. The gun. Down."

The surprise left his face and in its place there was rage. "Who do you think you are, Vlad? I wouldn't order me around if I was you. I have the gun."

"Yes. Put it down."

Danny's lip drew up in a snarl and the hand that clutched the gun lowered and jerked upwards briefly. "I'll shoot you."

"You'll put the gun down, Daniel."

"I won't. In your dreams. I'll blow your fucking brains out first and paint the walls with your blood before I put the gun down."

"Then do it."

He paused, briefly startled. "What?"

"Blow my brains out, Daniel. Here's my head. Shoot."

Again, he had to pause, blown away by Vlad's new cool demeanor and confidence. It was a complete three-sixty and he wasn't prepared for it to say the least. Still, he said, "F-fine, I will."

"Go ahead. I'm waiting."

There was a long pause, one that was almost a minute long in real-time but seemed an eternity to the two troubled ghosts as they stared into each other's eyes, trying to see who would break first, or perhaps who would make the next move. It was like something out of an old Western movie as they glared at each other, a gun—at least one—drawn at the opposing partner. After this moment passed, Danny's gaze dropped in defeat and his arm fell. The gun tumbled out of his fingers and lay on the carpet at his feet.

However, the boy was not remorseful. His face was hard and gaze calculating, still completely intent on suicide but perhaps thankful he hadn't taken a life along with his own. At least this was what he told himself, because both he and Vlad knew he had never intended to kill anyone but himself and he could not, in truth, admit that the man had seen right through this attempt and rendered the gun useless. It was as if he'd run out of bullets.

Vlad snatched the gun fearlessly and stood up with a groan, his body protesting him loudly with every move.

"G-go to your room and lay down. And if I hear you doing anything else, I'm g-going to punish you. Do I make myself c-clear?" Vlad said, staring at Danny with compassionless eyes.

Danny glared hatefully at him, stuck up his middle finger, and then turned and walked slowly up the stairs to his bedroom without orally responding

When he heard the door slam shut, Vlad collapsed on the floor.