Ishmael had been trying to be civil about this. He had been going to let go; or at least he had been going to try.
But then the fellow thought it wise to punch him in the face. This perhaps made sense, as an instinct, especially if the split-second of silence before had been a sign of the man figuring out what precisely the problem was, here. Humans did generally like to keep a vampire's mouth as far away from them as possible. Ishmael recoiled, letting go of the guy's arm for a moment to massage his jaw - the punch had been strong enough to feel it. The nasty cracking sound, however, did not appear to have been Ishmael - it would take more than a human, even a boxer, to manage a blow that might break bones as fossilised as his - but there was no way he could leave the encounter here. Not after that.
"That was... unnecessary, you know," Ishmael returned, letting go of his jaw and throwing all his weight into pinning the stranger back by his shoulders against the nearest wall of the alley, not about to let the guy make a run for it. Anticipating a continued struggle, Ishmael did not lessen his hold, but now - in ever closer proximity, stretched up to reach the stranger's shoulders - his hold on his own restraint was waning.
One of his hands slid down to grasp at the man's forearm, the one with the uninjured hand. Ishmael twisted it up to a better angle, allowed his other hand to grip onto the stranger's fist, and sank his teeth into the boxer's wrist, piercing an artery. Really, the man ought to thank him for not going straight for the jugular, and risking his death; it had been tempting, too, what with his already-bare chest.
But then the fellow thought it wise to punch him in the face. This perhaps made sense, as an instinct, especially if the split-second of silence before had been a sign of the man figuring out what precisely the problem was, here. Humans did generally like to keep a vampire's mouth as far away from them as possible. Ishmael recoiled, letting go of the guy's arm for a moment to massage his jaw - the punch had been strong enough to feel it. The nasty cracking sound, however, did not appear to have been Ishmael - it would take more than a human, even a boxer, to manage a blow that might break bones as fossilised as his - but there was no way he could leave the encounter here. Not after that.
"That was... unnecessary, you know," Ishmael returned, letting go of his jaw and throwing all his weight into pinning the stranger back by his shoulders against the nearest wall of the alley, not about to let the guy make a run for it. Anticipating a continued struggle, Ishmael did not lessen his hold, but now - in ever closer proximity, stretched up to reach the stranger's shoulders - his hold on his own restraint was waning.
One of his hands slid down to grasp at the man's forearm, the one with the uninjured hand. Ishmael twisted it up to a better angle, allowed his other hand to grip onto the stranger's fist, and sank his teeth into the boxer's wrist, piercing an artery. Really, the man ought to thank him for not going straight for the jugular, and risking his death; it had been tempting, too, what with his already-bare chest.
