Oh for fuck's sake. Merrick rolls his eyes at him, though his cheeks darken a bit, and he curses the Vashoth under his breath. It's ridiculous how easily flustered Metaari can make him. He wants to enact some revenge, but sitting in a crowded courtyard surrounded by men twice his size that would slit his throat if they found out they'd been swindled? Not the best time. A spectator starts a countdown, and he tries to come up with a plan of action in the scant seconds he's allowed.

"Three!" I should just cripple his hand, the pain doesn't last THAT long. "Two!" Just who does he think he is, anyway? So fucking smug. I should just kick him under the table.

As soon as he hears "One!" he surges forward and pecks Metaari on the lips, hopefully catching him off guard enough to slam his hand down on the table.