"They're collecting," he observes shortly, pistol in hand. With the monstrosity knocked back by Beau's blows, he's got a viable shot, and there's no hesitation in his decision to take it.

It's not fire, but bullets are what he's got, so that's what he's going to use. It's too close and too fast to risk a fancy shot, so he aims for center mass and squeezes off two quick shots that blossom into bloody flowers on impact. The thing squeals in rage, staggering at the insult, but continues to flail menacingly. More intent on its ability to cause harm than its own well-being, it rights itself and readies for a charge.