L's expression doesn't flicker, but he has to fight not to grit his teeth. It's not acceptable at all, not with the amount of attention he'll have to keep focused right in front of him, and the uncertainty that will remain regarding the existence and location of a gun.

But, as the other man's tone reminds him, this isn't his territory, and so far he's been either absurdly fortunate or extremely well-treated. Quit while you're ahead. Sighing through his nose, he leans back against the wall, and, since his arm is getting tired and aim is hardly likely to be a problem at this range, shifts the gun to his other hand.

"Talk, then."