[He flinches, of course--he's only human. Reflexive from years of being a person first, a soldier second. But he doesn't move to grab any weapon, because he knows he'd be impaled before he'd ever reach it anyway. He just looks up from where he lays, chin pointed upward as he eyes the man with a furrowed brow.]

I've been busy with a lot of things, asshole.

Why do you try so hard to make people fear you? What do you get out of it? Besides the whole loner thing. Which I'm sure isn't miserable at all.