[ Briefly, very briefly, Fuuta wonders how it'd feel to just smack the fucker across the face with the palm front. Maybe that'd get the asshole to drop that insufferable, smug look on his face, if only for a moment.
But while that urge does translate into another rustle of leaves as Fuuta grips the plant's stalk harder ... of course it doesn't translate into direct action. He knows he's already pushing it, knows that the only reason the guards haven't intervened yet is because Sylus already seems to have the situation under control, and also knows that the punishment that potentially awaits him for such flagrant disobedience won't really be worth a few seconds of vindication. So.
He'd been glowering at Sylus in silence for a moment, forced to look up given the height difference between them, and there's little warning before Fuuta abruptly gives a loud click of the tongue, then lashes out.
Not to strike, but to snatch the glass from Sylus' hand; the movement's rough enough to send a few stray drops of wine plopping across the floor, but Fuuta ignores it, instead focusing on throwing the entire glass back in one go. He comes up coughing briefly, of course -- wine isn't really his thing, and it had tasted a bit drier than he'd expected, to boot -- but still points the glass (rudely) in Sylus' face almost without missing a beat. Even if his first few words come hoarse, he still barks -- ]
-- just 'cause I'd accept this kinda stuff doesn't mean I'd be treating everyone like garbage, like you've been. You think you got one over me just 'cause you got me to drink this stuff? You didn't prove anything, you jackass!
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But while that urge does translate into another rustle of leaves as Fuuta grips the plant's stalk harder ... of course it doesn't translate into direct action. He knows he's already pushing it, knows that the only reason the guards haven't intervened yet is because Sylus already seems to have the situation under control, and also knows that the punishment that potentially awaits him for such flagrant disobedience won't really be worth a few seconds of vindication. So.
He'd been glowering at Sylus in silence for a moment, forced to look up given the height difference between them, and there's little warning before Fuuta abruptly gives a loud click of the tongue, then lashes out.
Not to strike, but to snatch the glass from Sylus' hand; the movement's rough enough to send a few stray drops of wine plopping across the floor, but Fuuta ignores it, instead focusing on throwing the entire glass back in one go. He comes up coughing briefly, of course -- wine isn't really his thing, and it had tasted a bit drier than he'd expected, to boot -- but still points the glass (rudely) in Sylus' face almost without missing a beat. Even if his first few words come hoarse, he still barks -- ]
-- just 'cause I'd accept this kinda stuff doesn't mean I'd be treating everyone like garbage, like you've been. You think you got one over me just 'cause you got me to drink this stuff? You didn't prove anything, you jackass!