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Violent-Medic
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And suddenly there was another voice. A girl. Not one that Danny recognised, at least not by her voice. To whatever remained of Danny's credit, this time he didn't yell or scream. Apparently an artist, judging by what she was saying to Sandy.

Danny kept hidden behind his shelf, waiting to see if Sandy would just chill the fuck out. Waited until Sandy was done ranting about—

“Dude, that's all you wanted?!” Danny yelled afterwards. “Just say 'leave me alone' next time, what the fuck? You blocked the door while holding a weapon, what the hell was I supposed to think?”

Danny shuffled to the end of the row of shelves and stuck his head out warily, trying to look for both Sandy and the stranger. At least that meant Sandy probably wasn't trying to kill him. Just being kind of a dickweed.

“Look, Sand, I panicked, jeez. I'll call a truce if you will. Mystery Girl's got that shit right—oh, you have nunchucks?!”

Danny had now edged far enough from the shelves to see a glimpse of waving nunchucks, although it was still hard to make out whoever was holding them.

Nunchucks were pretty cool. Top five weapons, though really only in the hands of someone who could do all the fancy shit with them. Danny's fingers were itchy now. Damn, he wanted those nunchucks. Not for long, just to play around with for a minute. Priorities.
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