Actor had seen the Warden wilt battle harden soldiers with that look, especially if it was clothed in the uniform of an SS officer. "It's not a traitor you know. You can't take it out and have it shot by a firing squad."
Garrison's gaze slid off his injured ankle wrapped against the swelling and propped up on a cushion on the footstool in front of his chair and came to rest on his second's face. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." The Italian con man smiled. "I seem to recall something from my medical studies about shooting yourself in the foot not having a very desirable outcome."
A brief answering smile rolled over the Warden's face then he sighed and sank a little lower in the chair. "What a klutz! I think Goniff is rubbing off on me…."