Oh, how nice it was to be wrecking an office that wasn't his.

Falcon had just barely leapt forward when he found himself slammed into the office floor, an involuntary grunt escaping him as he connected with the cold tile. His next immediate instinct was to spin on his palms, kicking outward as he brought himself back to his feet and trying to ignore the pain that came with...well, being clothes-lined into the ground.

He dashed behind the desk in an effort to keep distance between them while simultaneously trying to keep a mode of escape nearby. Of course, there was the part where his getup maneuver loosened his gun in his belt, and, seeing as it had already been put back hastily and not very securely. The next thing he heard was a metallic clatter as the gun fell to the floor, the swift motion to the other side of the room enough to dislodge it from its holster.

Well, that was probably not good. He sidestepped the desk and dove forward, hand outstretched in an attempt to reach it.