Jake was horrified. Quin had just sprayed the countertop with coffee that had been in his mouth. Lucky for Quin, none of it had gotten on Jake or his clothes. Such a thing could have made an enemy. Quin might not have seen the stares and looks, but Jake certainly did. He turned and counted pairs of eyes, all focussed on him and Quin. One onlooker in particular seemed offended by Quin\'s display. He was a stout man, balding in the back, with thick muscles all over his short body. Jake thought he looked very much like a ballon animal that needed to be popped. He had tattoos on his arms and neck, and small, dark eyes that looked like coals. Jake instantly disliked him.
This was the man who Quin had spoken too. The man, who in Jake\'s opnion had no business in a coffee shop (then again who was he to talk) got off of his own stool and walked dangerously close to Quin.
"Yeah I got a problem," the brute uttered in a nasty dialect. "That shit was gross. Apologize and clean it up."
Jake decided now was not the time to intervene. He looked to see what Quin would do, being challenged so.