"You... bitch!" Darren snarled, a low, guttural sound, his voice thick with unadulterated fury.
Derren's friend, seeing his patron assaulted, lunged at Alice from the side, a clumsy, drunken attack. But Alice, quick as lightning, moved. She twisted, catching his arm, and with a swift, powerful motion, used his own momentum to spin and shove him away. He yelped, losing his balance, and fell backward onto their now-empty table, sending plates, cutlery, and the broken mocktail glasses clattering and shattering to the floor with a terrifying crash. As he landed, a sharp edge of broken glass sliced across his outstretched hand. He let out a piercing, almost theatrical scream, clutching his bleeding palm.
"Oh my God! I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding! Someone help me!" he shrieked, his face going pale as he dramatically swooned onto the broken table, the sight of his own blood proving too much for his entitled sensibility.
