Craggard’s head snapped towards the Confederate, a smile frozen on his face. His lips parted slightly, surprised at the outburst, especially coming from a young man who evaded Craggard’s interests so effortlessly before. The nobleman seethed with rage as he briefly pondered on how to react- the bastard was playing dirty, whether or not it was intentional. If Craggard chose to bite back with equal vigor, the Grimms might think him uncouth. If he didn’t, he was letting the little bastard make a fool of him, in front of his comrades no less. The latter was just too enraging a thought to ignore, and Craggard found himself barking in laughter at the very idea, the loud noise echoing the chortles of the representative’s own men. Finding himself increasingly irritated by all the noise, his face darkened. The nobleman slammed his fist on the table to get the confederates attention, rattling the dinnerware on the table in the process. Craggard's voice was mocking and full of barely-disguised anger as he lifted an accusatory finger at the tattooed representative. 

“ Ah, don't we have ourselves a model confederate here! All seein’ double and bootless! Truly the epitome of everything White Rock stands for, eh? Here us silly Onxyites were, plucking the best of the best from our ranks when we could have done it classic confederate style- grabbing a few hobos, peasants, and people like this drunk runt off the streets n’ calling it good!” 

He sneered at the confederates and their ring-leader, his annoyance at the young man quickly souring into hatred of the pettiest sort. In any ordinary setting, Craggard would have shoved his fork down that prick’s throat as soon as he spoke, all while cussing him out enough to make the toughest sailor blush. But Craggard was going to the bigger man today. (And no, not just literally, dammit!) He would get his sweet revenge later, one way or another.  

And besides, he wasn’t about to fight with women in the room. 
 
[@Vashonn]