[ The damaged tabletop groans under the sudden impact, spilling silverware and sending a plate shattering on the floortiles; Gen's sandwich, still-untouched, almost lands on their neighboring table with how roughly it's flung aside. And as Gen feels the fabric of his shirt dig into his shoulders and the back of his throat, cloth fibers fraying beneath the taut pull of Dokja's fingers, adrenaline surges hot through his veins.
Some corner of his mind crackles with worry -- how will it affect Amos' discussions with the Machining Guild if he ends up in a fight with Dokja here, he wonders. But it's so hard to heed that whisper of caution when he's faced by Dokja's arm reeled back, claws gleaming in the lighting, aimed right for his face. His shoulders tense as he steels himself for a blow, even as his own hand jerks back, prepared to rip the ground out from under Dokja and topple him off his feet; he has to hope that whatever slash Dokja manages to land on him doesn't blind or kill him outright. His mind races as he tries to think of the best course of action, how to fight back, how Eustace had taught him to defend himself, how to quickly end this confrontation.
-- so it's almost a little disappointing when Dokja suddenly freezes.
His posture's still ratcheted tight with tension even as Dokja lets go and staggers back; the crumpled fabric of his shirt slowly sinks back into place against his chest. And though Gen's breath comes just a little faster from how quickly his pulse is pounding in his chest ... somehow, he manages to retain some semblance of calm.
It helps that Dokja's wearing that stupid look of shock as his eyes lose their gold gleam. A clear sign that Gen still has the upper hand in this confrontation. And he's not about to blow it, not when the stakes are so high. ]
... hey. Calm down now, will you. [ Gen's voice is still a little tight when he finally offers that empty comment, and he clears his throat before continuing. ] What's gotten you all worked up? ... sorry about that. I'll cover the costs of all the damage.
[ That last bit's directed at the waiter who'd nervously drawn a few steps closer; Gen stands and digs through his pockets to pull out a pouch of jools, withdrawing a generous handful without looking and placing them on the damaged tabletop. It should be more than enough to cover the costs, with a generous tip on top. And Gen waits to make sure the waiter gives a small nod in acknowledgement before looking to Dokja.
There's a dark, knowing gleam in his eyes. The look of smug superiority, even as he feigns amicability with his next words: ] Come on, don't go causing trouble for these people.
[ He's speaking louder, now. Nothing grating or violent, but just loud enough for the tables around them to overhear. Because he knows very well that gossip and public perception are factors that can never be ignored. If Dokja is so determined to start shit with him, well ... then he'll make sure Dokja can't ever be comfortable in Godsblood, either, not with how obviously unsettled he is by the eyes of others falling upon him. Casual as anything, he steps around the table, just close enough to give Dokja a 'friendly' clap to the shoulder. ]
I know you don't like me much, but -- we're working for the same cause, here. Let's get along as fellow Aions, yeah?
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Some corner of his mind crackles with worry -- how will it affect Amos' discussions with the Machining Guild if he ends up in a fight with Dokja here, he wonders. But it's so hard to heed that whisper of caution when he's faced by Dokja's arm reeled back, claws gleaming in the lighting, aimed right for his face. His shoulders tense as he steels himself for a blow, even as his own hand jerks back, prepared to rip the ground out from under Dokja and topple him off his feet; he has to hope that whatever slash Dokja manages to land on him doesn't blind or kill him outright. His mind races as he tries to think of the best course of action, how to fight back, how Eustace had taught him to defend himself, how to quickly end this confrontation.
-- so it's almost a little disappointing when Dokja suddenly freezes.
His posture's still ratcheted tight with tension even as Dokja lets go and staggers back; the crumpled fabric of his shirt slowly sinks back into place against his chest. And though Gen's breath comes just a little faster from how quickly his pulse is pounding in his chest ... somehow, he manages to retain some semblance of calm.
It helps that Dokja's wearing that stupid look of shock as his eyes lose their gold gleam. A clear sign that Gen still has the upper hand in this confrontation. And he's not about to blow it, not when the stakes are so high. ]
... hey. Calm down now, will you. [ Gen's voice is still a little tight when he finally offers that empty comment, and he clears his throat before continuing. ] What's gotten you all worked up? ... sorry about that. I'll cover the costs of all the damage.
[ That last bit's directed at the waiter who'd nervously drawn a few steps closer; Gen stands and digs through his pockets to pull out a pouch of jools, withdrawing a generous handful without looking and placing them on the damaged tabletop. It should be more than enough to cover the costs, with a generous tip on top. And Gen waits to make sure the waiter gives a small nod in acknowledgement before looking to Dokja.
There's a dark, knowing gleam in his eyes. The look of smug superiority, even as he feigns amicability with his next words: ] Come on, don't go causing trouble for these people.
[ He's speaking louder, now. Nothing grating or violent, but just loud enough for the tables around them to overhear. Because he knows very well that gossip and public perception are factors that can never be ignored. If Dokja is so determined to start shit with him, well ... then he'll make sure Dokja can't ever be comfortable in Godsblood, either, not with how obviously unsettled he is by the eyes of others falling upon him. Casual as anything, he steps around the table, just close enough to give Dokja a 'friendly' clap to the shoulder. ]
I know you don't like me much, but -- we're working for the same cause, here. Let's get along as fellow Aions, yeah?