He was moving forward, until he wasn't. With the fear of getting caught fresh on his mind, Brindle lifted his arms and dropped his weight, slipping out of the shirt the big roe was holding. Escape. His weight was on the balls of his feet, and without thinking he dove left, between the legs of another patron. The angle was poor, and he misjudged the gap. Alcohol splashed down on him, and he spend several precious seconds kicking himself free, ignoring the outrage the owner of the drink was pouring down on him.
He got his feet under him, dodging the cuff the man aimed at him, and chanced a look back. It was a mistake. He caught a faceful of chair and went down hard.
He got his feet under him, dodging the cuff the man aimed at him, and chanced a look back. It was a mistake. He caught a faceful of chair and went down hard.
