"Nobody move, or I'll shoot!" he shouts, pressing the muzzle deeper into her dark wavy hair.
Everyone in the bank instantly complies, dropping to the floor like stunned flies, and uttering not a peep.
The girl in his arms starts to struggle, and suddenly he sweats when she squirms easily in his grasp. Panicking, he neglects the suspicion of why she would turn around instead of running away.
"This is so romantic," she chimes, bright eyed and perky despite the gun aimed at her face.
His hand wavers and someone stifles a sob as the gun sweeps the floor from his wet palm. "W-what?"
"It'll be like Stockholm Syndrome, and we'll have this great love affair, where the news will be captivated yet disturbed by our affections, and we'll be famous-"
Instantly, he shoves her far from himself, breaking into a sprint out of the bank.
Startled, she runs after him. "Wait! Hold me in your arms again! Come back!"