Natalie Vaughn's voice was cold, her gaze disdainful. She despised these scumbags, who, relying on having an extra leg, vent all their temper on women.
Throwing them in the trash can would be an insult to the trash can.
Natalie's demeanor only provoked the middle-aged man further into a rage.
"You bitch, why are you meddling?"
As he spoke, he signaled to the people around him to start handling her.
Natalie adjusted her hair and pulled her hood up, roughly covering half her face. The last time in the bar, she got into a fight and caused a scene.
The middle-aged man's friends were all incompetent and physically weak, their punches were flimsy and easily blocked by Natalie.
When the fists proved ineffective, they grabbed nearby beer bottles, just like last time; indeed, scumbags are surprisingly consistent.
Natalie was fine on her own, but she was concerned about Phoebe Quinn behind her and the victim lying on the ground; she feared they might be caught in the crossfire.
