[Flynn was pissed. He had never really let loose in his life, and now seemed as good of a time as any. Why did he always have to be the logical one, the sane one, the sober one, the moral compass, while everyone else did whatever they damn well pleased? Wanting to tell off those exactly what he thought of their callous behavior and words, letting his fists do the talking, the hell with the rules... his fist throbbed a bit, but he felt alive. And the alcohol did a pretty good job in conjunction with the adrenaline of masking whatever pain was caused by the blow.]

That the best you got?!

[Flynn was subject to a few blows in the interim, but he didn't let that stop him as blood dribbled down from his nostril. Getting lost in the moment, he grabbed a nearby bottle of beer, smashed the edge against the table, and brandished his weapon.]

Come on. Make my day.