'Throwing your weight around'? Asshole doesn't know what he's talking about. Asshole doesn't know one word about what he's talking about, and this isn't what Willard had asked for and he should've never come here should've walked the other way and the table's slipping away, the fog's settling out and even the noise of that asshole's gone away, the cold's lacing itself with stricken heat and now, and now

It happens before Willard realizes it, sidestepping around the table to throw a fist directly into the asshole's face.

There it is. There it fucking went.

Willard takes a step back, staring, still not certain where he is or how to move.

"Shit."