Smelling the faint scent of alcohol on his Hand of Precision, he wore an expression of disgust, as if he had dirtied himself.
He glanced at the slightly bewildered woman beside him, his face full of displeasure.
He pushed back his chair, ready to leave.
But after taking two steps, he seemed to remember something.
Returning to his seat, he picked up his wine glass and the dish from the center of the table, taking them with him as he left.
Faced with Simon's unabashed emotional display, the somewhat baffled woman put her hand into her pocket. She took out a palm-sized mirror and scrutinized herself under the light. Then, confused, she raised the left hand she had just extended and sniffed it. Simon's series of actions had made her somewhat insecure.
Finally, she could only mumble to herself, "That stinky, metallic man."
Chaotic sounds erupted nearby. She turned to look.
Two drunken men were already entangled in a brawl.
