By now Roadhog didn’t need the uniform to recognize the Medic. He had fought with the zealous bastard enough that he recognize the man as soon as he stepped in the bar, and much to his delight the barstool next to him was open too.
Now, sneaking was not his strong suit by any means, but he knew how to shift his weight in slow steps that didn’t give his presence away with ground shaking thuds, and he had a feeling with the small but rowdy group in the corner would be enough to mask his approach as he creeped up behind John.
He knew he would probably only have one chance to do this smoothly, so after motioning to the bar tender that the man better keep his mouth shut if he valued his life, Roadhog bridged the gap and made his move. One large hand went to the arm the Medic was resting on the counter, pinning his drinking hand down to the table while pudgy fingers deftly crawled into the BLU’s clothes to find his underwear.
It didn’t take him long to find the man’s waistband, and with one quick pull Roadhog yanked it up to the man’s shoulders. “So what brings you to these parts?” He would purr in the angry man’s ear, a seductive contrast to his childish actions.
@hog-style
Ah man what was he even thinking coming here to piss tasting beer and food that could've been expired for all he knows. Oh right, a handful of his teammates dragged him along to 'get the stick out of his ass' and chill out. Guess a perfect way to remedy a migraine was in a crowded bar with hyper patrons. Besides said BLU members fucked off to who knows where by now so he might be walking back.
Not the worst thing, just very annoying. Sighs in irritation, scrubbing a hand over his exhausted eyes then presses a few fingers into a temple. Well that helps better than trying to get drunk off of cheap alcohol.
Imagine the level is surprised heavily laced with hostility John experienced just then. Having no time to register at first who's putting their oversized hands on him John's eyes went wide with horror and a lovely dose of pain shooting up his spine and feeling like his lunch got the air punched out of them. Shit his underwear loudly tore to boot. Oh this mother fucker. Is this for ACCIDENTALLY cracking him in the junk???
Petty and more childish than any sit talking scout. Seeing that pathetic bartender awkwardly looking away like this wasn't an assault and probably getting a few customers looking. Yeah John is seeing black spots and red. Coughs a bit, almost throwing up a little, John didn't even think, only violently lashed out even though it was hard to move. But the worse had come to pass.
"If you know what's good or you, you'd back the fuck off ...."
It's a wheeze, a struggle for air but very VERY full of venom. Yup. Very angry. Nearly blindly so by the way his heart is loudly pounding in his ears now. If he gets banned from this shitty backwater bar he'd make it worth it. His free hand is already shakily wrapped around the bottle neck still in his other trapped hand. If a certain someone is a little too cocky and please with himself to not pay close attention that bottle is incoming for his face. Mask of not John is LIVID.