Now that they are more fully removed from prying eyes, Lazarevic kindly restores Drake's capacity to breathe, throwing and releasing him back against the wall of the building behind them with enough force to stun, perhaps, but not to crack his skull.

"How many times now have I spared you or your friends and suffered for it?" His voice is perfectly level, conversational, even. However, Lazarevic's freed hand moves to his chest to flick open the snaps holding his pistol in place, and then he draws the weapon, placing its muzzle to Drake's forehead. "Perhaps you can help me, because I have begun to lose count."