[The blond man aims the revolver at the fleshy tentacle breaking through the snow and fires at it, twice, hitting it once. He has some skill, but he's clearly not exactly miltary-grade. He scurries back, and if allowed, grabs L by the arm to hustle him backward.]
Get back. Get back. Get back. Thing's gonna get nasty.
No worries! I've been busy with work (grocery retail) and Christmas prep
Get back. Get back. Get back. Thing's gonna get nasty.