Anthony was just sitting and drinking in relative peace, when he heard shouting and glass breaking—and he stood up, mostly just on reflex. Leaning with one hand on the counter as to steady himself, Anthony, after the initial shock, looked and was incredibly fucking pissed. Elijah seemed to have the situation under control, thank god, but how fucking dare she?

Anthony was kind of clueless as to what was going on, but that's never stopped him before. "Hey, hey, hey! What the fuck is wrong with you? You get called out over what a fucking shitty moyher you are and boohoo noone's here to hold your hand about it so you decide to be a fucking moron and not just be a rude fucking bastard but then you also tried to fucking...attack Elijah as if you weren't a fucking failure who deserved to rot in fucking hell before that? You're fucking lucky you're spending a fucking night in jail because if it were up to me I would just fucking let you rot there forever and stab you to fucking death you fucking idiot. Fuck you, I hope you never even breathe in the direction of anyone here again and even better if you'll never fucking breathe again. How did you even have the fucking gall—" he only stopped rambling because he fell into another coughing fit.