Heller takes a quick drag off of his spliff, inhaling the smoke and somewhat odd taste of Cannabis. He reads through the newspaper, coming across said article. He'd read it, and whilst doing so, his facial expression would shift to that of bitterness.
"Maybe if you fucks did your job once in a while, instead of being corrupt sons of bitches, tossing people in water with their hands cuffed..." - He'd mumble to himself out of habit, taking another drag, leaning back on his couch, having the newspaper rest on his thigh.
"..- Then all this shit wouldn't be happening. You're the cancer of this County. Too bad you've got your hands so far up the Sheriff's ass, he can't even think straight."
After a couple of seconds, Heller gets up from his seat, walking up to the table which bares a couple of disassembled sidearms. He'd browse through the parts, tinkering with each one to his own liking.
"Fucking faggots." - A thought crosses his mind, as he proceeds to work on his project.