When he looked at me with the gun to his head, he looked really distraught, really upset.

He was distraught. He looked just as confused as I was.

I felt we had to do something. People were distraught, upset, angry; they couldn't believe it.

It looked like they were going for the head.

There was a fly buzzing around my head and I brushed it away. When I looked down the ball had moved. I did not think I hit it and my playing partners did not see it.

When the highwayman holds his gun to your head, you turn your valuables over to him. You 'consent' alright, but you do so because you cannot help yourself, because you are compelled by his gun. Are you not compelled to work for an employer? Your need compels you, just as the highwayman’s gun.