Mordechi had gotten out of his seat the moment the winged man sitting next to him had, widening to a warrior's stance as the air got thicker and thicker with insults. He watched how the muscles in the winged man’s shoulders tightened with trained eyes, how the new man’s lips curled ever so slightly in a hint of a snarl. And he noticed how, suddenly, [i]strangely[/i], a blur of black and gray fur whipped close to the winged man, but was gone just as suddenly. Had he slipped something into his pocket? Or perhaps-

	But then the tension broke with a whiz as a fiery bullet was just barely avoided by the newcomer, his doge bringing him quite close to Mordechi. 

	But this wasn’t his fight. He saw no reason to intervene. What would he gain? Burns and bruises and bites? 
So he shifts back a couple of steps, giving the new man some room as he casually takes out a cigarette, and as the winged man stalks towards him.

	The air grows thick again, the newcomer picks up a fork and a knife, and then cutlery fly. 


[hope its okay that i interpreted the patron as Mor! Moving back was what he was going to do anyway so i thought it would work.]