[No respect. His hand twitches; he's tempetd to shield over, as a pen to the hand can be unexpectedly painful, even if it's not exactly bamboo torture, but instead his fingers curl, crumpling the paper in frustration before reaching out to nab the other's collar, pulling him viciously across the table he wanted between them.] Oi. [Yank, face to face.] At this rate in about one hour, I'm gonna be a criminal on yer world, in yer jurisdiction. Tresspassing, assault, maybe kidnapping. You okay with that?