feeling your hold loosen and stumble back from your push
your hoping around,groaning,,is precious
you kind of sound like charlie browns teacher
your eyes burning,,and reddish you look possessed
there a bowl with a small amount of liquid left in it
bending,picking it up i flick the bowl fowards ,and the liquid at your face
more for a distraction
demons begone i snarl and try to take advantage with a couple steps leap in an attempt of a drop kick yt
Even without much force behind, a heavy glass punch bowl ain’t the kinda thing you want hurtling towards your face. With my guard raised, I’m tempted to swat the slow moving half sphere out of the air, but I resist the urge on account of the fearful notion of the shrapnel that’s sure to erupt from the impact with the floor.
So, discretion once again proving itself the better part of valor, I throw myself to the side, out of the path of the punch bowl, and, as it turns out, your attempted dropkick. Tumbling to the bare hardwood, I roll neatly over into a crouch, just in time to see you stagger awkwardly, stopping your momentum before you go flying impotently towards the banister.
“Nice try, doll! But you ain’t going to pull off those dirty tricks twice!” Snarling, I spring out of the crouch and launch myself towards you, leading with my left shoulder and aiming to drive you hard against the thick oak of the railing.