     @gluhendâ.
       â LAY YOUR HANDS on me one more timeâ â he seethed unto the ear of a man, whose head he had urged against the bar, and an arm locked behind his back, â  âand iâll see you lose them. â
    he could feel the strangerâs muscles writhing in discomfort beneath his steeled grasp, attempting in vain to dissuade his grip and maintain some composure, or what little remained of it. maybe if this miserable cockroach hadnât been so eager for conflict, he mightnât be in this predicament. fine by me, whispered his wrath, without even a momentâs regard for the rising tension among the other patrons. perhaps they thought about retribution? about intervening on the otherâs behalf and diffusing the situation?
     let them, the voice behind his eyes hissed, and with it, murmured the promise of blood.
THERE WAS NOTHING QUITE LIKE A GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED BAR FIGHT.
Oh, the tension was so thick in the air it could have been cut with a knife. Certainly the action was paused for now, thanks in part to the vice grip the would-be target had on the dullard whoâd initiated the altercation, face pressed so firmly against the bar that he likely wouldnât have been able to speak even if he wanted to. This play would resume shortly, once the initial shock and awe had worn off-- That was inevitable, given the nature of the establishment. Still he writhed against the dark-haired man, and the womanâs eyes roamed from the focal point of the scene outwards, onto another who looked as if he might burst.
Anger. She knew it well. Knew it enough to predict the next move the stranger would make-- People always took offense to their friends being hurt, drunk men even more so. The whiskey burned as she threw back the last of her drink, glass clinking on the bar. And as he moved forward, tunnel vision preventing him from focusing on anything but the man whoâd slighted his friend, Revenant slid off her stool, deftly reaching over the counter to wrap her fingers round the neck of a bottle.
It almost felt slow, at first. The crisp crack of glass shattering against bone rang through the establishment, the would-be attacker stumbling forward from the force. His legs seemed to turn to the very liquid which burst forth from the makeshift weapon. Revenant looked up to the dark-haired man, fiery gaze lingering but a moment, then whirled back around to face the hell which broke loose.
