A bullet isn't going to kill Louis, but a headshot would lay him up for long months to heal. Louis knows this. His fingers tighten in Daniel's jacket, a brief squeeze of gratitude, before Louis' attention shifts and his lips peel back off his teeth to bare fangs at the agent in the doorway.

To her credit, she holds her ground even as he face goes pale.

There's more coming, Louis cautions, words blooming in Daniel's head fully detached from the savagery of the expression on Louis' face. We should break the glass.

Fuck the alarm, more or less.

Louis blurs from Daniel. The agent gets another shot off, bullet hitting a wall, and then screams as Louis breaks her arm. The gun clatters to the floor.