No one's gonna shoot you, 'less this goes way off.

( he doesn't know what the hell the collar's for, but he can recognize the moments when accelerator goes for it. jason pulls a switchblade from his jacket. offers it over on a flat palm. who knows if it'll keep when it's off his person, logic doesn't seem to apply here, but just in case--knives are useful, accelerator might want one here. )

The door up there leads to a few ratty old apartments. We'll walk into mine, an' there'll be a body on the floor in the bathroom. Dead long enough to be firmly dead, but not long enough for rigor mortis to set in.