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Turing around, you poured another beer into a cold glass, walking around the counter and to the designated table. Before you could set the glass down, you tripped over the men's feet that were surrounding the table. The glass slipping out of our hands and spilling all over the man who asked for the beer in the first place. He stood up with anger in his eyes as he was now sticky and wet. You stood up, apologizes slipping past your lips, but he didn't care about any of them. His hand raised and your eyes shut in fear of the pain that was about to happen, but it didn't. Opening your eyes a woman now stood directly in front of you, a hand wrapped around the mans wrist. She easily throw him from one side to the other, turning around to make sure you were alright. After you nodded my head, she took your hand and led you off to a table where the men sitting there looked astounded, but not before telling the man something else.
"You will not lay your hands on her ever again, otherwise you'll be dealing with me."
