[ He should probably just turn around and leave. This guy's clearly a nutjob and not worth the effort of dealing with, one way or another. He knows that, he really does.
And while Gen does fully intend on being the adult in this situation and departing the scene, rolling his eyes at being called a punk (been there, heard that) and the talk about his ruined lungs (heard that too, though it's been a while since a teacher's dared to give him this shit) -- those shitty orders halt him right as he starts to turn on heel.
Who the hell does this guy think he is to give him orders like a dog? (Thinks the teenager with dog ears. Don't look at his tail standing straight back like a rudder in obvious aggression.)
The spike in his temper is obvious in the stiffening of his posture and the sharpening of his gaze; his jaw is set when he raises his cigarette back up to his lips. In part so he can deliberately take a drag while Reigen is looking, yes, but almost mostly so he can park it there between his lips.
It frees up his hand so he can lunge in to aim a punch right at Reigen's face.
If Reigen was expecting a wild, overreaching haymaker, he might have to rethink that assessment. Gen's movements are sharper, quicker, more controlled than most street punks and delinquents would manage. Months of training aren't forgotten easily, even if he hasn't had the time or energy to train in combat much as of late. His punch snaps forth in time with his forward lunge, followed up immediately by a backswing aiming to catch Reigen with his elbow; Eustace has taught him well, and he knows to anticipate a block or a dodge and prepare accordingly.
Which is to say, he will land at least one good hit on Reigen's face. That's a promise. ]
no subject
And while Gen does fully intend on being the adult in this situation and departing the scene, rolling his eyes at being called a punk (been there, heard that) and the talk about his ruined lungs (heard that too, though it's been a while since a teacher's dared to give him this shit) -- those shitty orders halt him right as he starts to turn on heel.
Who the hell does this guy think he is to give him orders like a dog? (Thinks the teenager with dog ears. Don't look at his tail standing straight back like a rudder in obvious aggression.)
The spike in his temper is obvious in the stiffening of his posture and the sharpening of his gaze; his jaw is set when he raises his cigarette back up to his lips. In part so he can deliberately take a drag while Reigen is looking, yes, but almost mostly so he can park it there between his lips.
It frees up his hand so he can lunge in to aim a punch right at Reigen's face.
If Reigen was expecting a wild, overreaching haymaker, he might have to rethink that assessment. Gen's movements are sharper, quicker, more controlled than most street punks and delinquents would manage. Months of training aren't forgotten easily, even if he hasn't had the time or energy to train in combat much as of late. His punch snaps forth in time with his forward lunge, followed up immediately by a backswing aiming to catch Reigen with his elbow; Eustace has taught him well, and he knows to anticipate a block or a dodge and prepare accordingly.
Which is to say, he will land at least one good hit on Reigen's face. That's a promise. ]