The second his hand touched her thigh, every muscle in her body tightened. She wasn't one to let just anyone bother her, and if someone wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, she would shove that 'no' right down their throat. Just before she could react, though, a larger male walked up. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, even from the distance in which she sat, but she didn't care about him. He was trying to help . . . not that she needed it.

In a single movement, she stood from her stool and put her hand on the side of his face before slamming his head down on the counter as hard as she could. His temple hit his bottle, and although it didn't shatter against his skull, the counter wasn't his friend. His nose crunched on the wood, and as he fumbled to the ground, hands shooting to hold his face, she threw up a knee as hard as she could, once again slamming into his already broken nose. Blood was pouring down his face, but she simply stood over him, kicking him off to the side.

It was then that he had finally had enough, and the man scrambled to his feet, taking off out the door. Callie, however, was still feeling the rage in her chest. Her hands were shaking, and cracking her neck once, she turned her eyes up toward the man who had tried to intervene. He was . . . quite a bit taller than she was, if she was honest, and he seemed somewhat familiar, but in the moment, she didn't care about any of that. She was itching to continue the fight, and her target had run off.

"You wanna go, too?? Or are you gonna turn your pretty ass around and go back to sulking in the corner??"