The man gasped slightly as the shotgun wielding guard, which appeared to be quite focused on making sure a move on the man's part would result in a hole in his chest, flipped the weapon around, blowing away a nearby man. The resulting mess could only be described as an explosion. There were pieces of that other guy everywhere - the floor, the walls, his own hair. Had he not seen what had just happened, he would have attributed such a mess to a grenade, rather than a simple firearm.
He felt a smal trickle of sweat run down his spine. He wanted to at least say something. A remark on the event that had unfolded before him, perhaps. Maybe a request to let himself wipe a bit of the unfortunate man off of himself?
No, no. Eyes forward, back straight, mouth shut, and wait. He couldn't let something so small break him.