Pierre frowns at him, as Wolfwood eyes Michael from the corner of his eye. "You ought to pick your friends more carefully," he says, easy, though his eyes flick to the girl and back again.

He's wary, but not on the run yet.

"I've just done you a favor. As for the girl...well, I just don't think I want to leave. At least, not without her. She's the one with the key, after all." Above his ostentatious beard, his eyes are narrow and cold.

"Aren't you, sweetheart?"

Elsie's paper-white and her eyes have filled with tears, but she straightens as best she can.

"I won't help you!" she tells him, in a way that would be defiant if her voice weren't so shaky.

"No?"

Oh, no.

Why the hell doesn't he have a knife, or something? But he doesn't have time to think, because Pierre considers Michael for a minute, then swings his arm around -- aiming the pistol at the head of one of the children.

"Shoot her, and the kids die," he says. "Hand her over, or I'm going to start pulling the trigger."

It's a stand-off, which is bad in a lot of ways, but good in exactly one, being that Pierre's attention is at least off him. The Punisher is behind him: he turns and kicks it into the nearest guard. It's not much, but it's enough to knock the henchman off his feet into the other one, and to distract Pierre, who looks up, uncertain for just a split second, gun dropping.

He just hopes Michael takes the shot, because they won't get another one.