[ His question sends the drunk into a pathetic flail of panic as he grasps uselessly at the fist on his windpipe. If he tries to answer Dean's question it comes out as squeaks and gasps and Hilda watches his eyes dart desperately around looking for anyone to help. Unfortunately for him they're in a tucked away corner of the tavern just out of view from the rest of the patrons so that no one has noticed his situation. Rabble and tiffs happened all the time at taverns - or at least that's what Hilda assumed.
She didn't exactly spend a lot of time in bars because who she was back home and most of what she had to go off of was Balthus' stories, all of which usually ended with some kind of fight. And based on those stories, Hilda assumes that the man's friends would come looking eventually. Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they think he'd gotten lucky. However the likelihood of someone else stumbling across them and "helping" the drunk out were probably higher and that's what she's more concerned about at the moment.
Hilda hasn't let go yet of the Dean's arm but her tone is light and airy like this is just a normal conversation they're having over some pints. There was nothing they could do to mask the physical aggression of the situation but she could at least try to make it sound like everything was Just Fine. ]
I'd love to know that answer too but I don't think he can do that if he can't breathe or drops unconscious.
[ Her gaze turns sweetly to the drunk man, a glint of a warning mingling with it as she tries to impress the fact that she might be his very slim chance of getting out of here without a broken something. Whether or not he would make that connection or interpret that as a threat was entirely up to him. ]
If my friend here lets up a little bit, you'll be nice, right?
no subject
She didn't exactly spend a lot of time in bars because who she was back home and most of what she had to go off of was Balthus' stories, all of which usually ended with some kind of fight. And based on those stories, Hilda assumes that the man's friends would come looking eventually. Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they think he'd gotten lucky. However the likelihood of someone else stumbling across them and "helping" the drunk out were probably higher and that's what she's more concerned about at the moment.
Hilda hasn't let go yet of the Dean's arm but her tone is light and airy like this is just a normal conversation they're having over some pints. There was nothing they could do to mask the physical aggression of the situation but she could at least try to make it sound like everything was Just Fine. ]
I'd love to know that answer too but I don't think he can do that if he can't breathe or drops unconscious.
[ Her gaze turns sweetly to the drunk man, a glint of a warning mingling with it as she tries to impress the fact that she might be his very slim chance of getting out of here without a broken something. Whether or not he would make that connection or interpret that as a threat was entirely up to him. ]
If my friend here lets up a little bit, you'll be nice, right?