"MotherFUCKER--" he burst at the sudden movement, but the bird managed to get his taser, pulling it out of his grip in it's wicked, surprisingly sharp little talons.

He released a frustrated note while the bird swooped around, retrieving the weapon for the master, and Mitch watched, in a half-stand as he moved out of his chair, fingers and knuckles white planted against his desk.

When the bird released it for Pherson, he spoke. "SHORT YOURSELF." he told his gun.