Nate just watched, keeping his eyes close on the man and turning to face him when he moved past. He didn't move to stop bell-boy, watching as he dragged her away and threw her at the other. "In my experience," he said, turning to face him now, "healthy dogs don't just go after people."

Then the jingly bastard threw the girl down and turned to him. Then that hand was raising, finger pointing at his chest, threatening to stick into him. Like a crusty old nurse.

Nate's hand slammed upward, latching to the other's wrist tightly. Very tight. Almost iron like, twisting it back and away from his chest. Too tight.

"I guess I don't really have a problem..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone. "Guess just bored...wired up. Gotta let loose somehow, right?" None was directed at the man in front of him, all lazily directed at himself.

Then he changed, taking a sudden left turn in his train of thought. His head cracked forward, bowed so that his forehead smacked what he wanted it to.

First strike. Lost in the buzz. Heat of the anger. Those bell were annoying.