"Nothing left to say, then?"
Harlan ignored the vague and distant sense of blood dripping from the gash in his eyebrow down the side of face. His gaze was fixated on one thing and one thing only and that was the set of eyes blinking fearfully back up at him. The man Harlan currently had pinned against the corner of the bar with his elbow struggled to speak through the tight grip around his jaw. His response came out as a pathetic excuse for a word that Harlan could only assume was a no.
"Oh?" Harlan lifted his grip on the dark haired stranger's chin to get a better look at his face as he titled his head in thought. "Awfully quiet now," The wizard clicked his tongue before letting the man go with force, roughly wiping a bloodied hand on the sleeve of his shirt.
In all fairness, Harlan was convinced that the encounter had started innocently enough with a polite request that the man stop grabbing at the new hostess, Lily, who couldn't have been a day over eighteen. Of course, though, his attempt at being civilized was met with defiance and he was left with no choice but to get physical. How the fight always found him, he would never know.
"Cheers, good chat!" The blond haired man hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he shouted over the crowd of the pub, noticing for the first time that he was bleeding. He examined the deep red liquid with interest. Apparently the stranger who was currently hurrying out the door had gotten at least one good hit in before being put in his place.
Anywhere else in London and Harlan would have likely been thrown out by now, but this particular bar was in his unofficial spot. Located just around the corner from his flat, the quidditch player found himself there almost as often as the owner, his friend Rhys, who was currently shaking his head from behind the bar. Harlan gave a shrug of shoulders, the closest he could come to apologizing, and made his way to the bathroom to get rid of the excess blood.
The sensation of a hand on his back had stopped him before he reached his destination, though, and he quickly turned on his heels, expecting to see the bloodied face of the former heckler. "Fucks sake... really?" Harlan groaned under his breath before his eyes adjusted to the sight in front of him. He couldn't have been more incorrect in his assumption.
