Boone turned to look at her more fully as soon as she chair had slid itself closer to the barstool. She had no intention to leave this seat and it did nothing but piss him off. Why the fuck did people in this town feel the need to be in his business all the fucking time. He just wanted a good drink, maybe a quick fuck in the supply closet (his flat if she was good enough and warranted a round two), and a night that would end.
At her rather flat, vulgar comment, he raised his brow at her. A girl that didn't take shit. It was hot, if he had to admit such a thing. If she wasn't afraid to stand up to him next to the bar, surely she could deal with his...kinky fuckery. It was refreshing, really, and he doubted he would find another like it. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He'd learned a lot of bitches liked to be eaten out...which he was happy to oblige. It was his favorite food group. He liked it better when they dished out the same treatment as well. Nothing pissed him off more than getting a whore off only for her to refuse to suck his dick in return.
But before he could make the offer, she was signaling to the man behind him who was royally pissed the fuck off that he had been tossed on the floor. Boone rolled his eyes (an ability that could be matched by no one) before he turned in his seat to look at the red-haired man reeking of ale. Boone took one sip of his ale before placing it carefully on the countertop.
And in a quick motion (far quicker than he should be given his state of intoxication), he pulled back his fist and sent it flying in the direction of the other's jaw. It collided, the pain hardly recognizable. Boone could have sworn he saw stars and birds flying across the man's head as his eyes rolled back and the man fell backward. He hit the floor with a loud thud, the other's deadweight hitting the wood floor without regard to much of anything. Boone looked down at the man, watching as his eyes closed and he laid down for a long nap.
Satisfied, Boone turned back to the bartop, grabbing his pint of ale and finishing it in a long chug. He set the glass down as he looked up at the bartender with a glare that demanded it be refilled. The man went on about how such violence wasn't tolerated or some shit like that. "Don't get your panties in a wad. He'll be unconscious for an hour or two. I'll be gone by the time he comes around." Which was true. Boone had no intention of staying longer than a couple of pints of ale. If no one sought his fancy, then he would simply move to the next bar down the street.