Chaos. The tavern had descended into utter chaos after Lewis' stunt. In a way it was kind of like a miniature, more civil version of the dreaded Black Friday. Jackson clucked his tongue and bolted up from his seat with spear in hand, his intention to house it in the flesh of any that drew too close made clear as he brandished it and jabbed it at the patrons of the establishment. His boss had a pissed someone off something fierce it seemed. Unfortunate, but perhaps he could cash in on Lewis' hide if he tried to fuck everyone over. So wrapped up in his thoughts was Jackson that he'd failed to realize that one of the Vikings (or meat beaters as he liked to call them) had been tailing after him, under the assumption that he was a friend of Lewis. Or maybe it was because the big bastard just wanted to hit something, who really knew these days with meat beaters? 

The sharp tug at he back of his hood elicited a soft choke from Jackson, though as he'd begun to turn and retaliate it quickly became apparent that no action was needed on his part. The Viking, while accustomed to pain, was probably unaccustomed to surprise attacks on his fingers by angry geckos. Thresher's head followed after the large man's hand as he drew back sans some small chunks of flesh from two knuckles. As the man stumbled back with a surprised help the reptile opened its mouth wide in a threat display, its inky black throat a stark contrast to the bright pink tongue and white needle teeth. It was pretty damned adorable if Jackson said so himself. He'd gush later though, now was the time to run.

 With the Viking in hot pursuit once more Jackson shoved his pet back down and turned to run, ducking and weaving through the crowd before gracelessly stumbling through the door. He could see Lewis and hear in the car honking like a mad man. Jackson made a beeline for that as he heard he heavy foot steps draw nearer. A few more steps, damnit. He just needed to make it to the car. A little more and...NOW! Jackson spun on his heels and brought his spear to bear before he came to a violent halt against the passenger and used it to prop up his spear. The Viking, poor bastard that he was, failed to stop in time to prevent the weapon from penetrating his abdomen. Jackson found himself treated to a face full of spit flecks and a long and loud cry of pain as the larger man sunk deeper onto his shaft. Gross. 

With a grunt of effort he threw the Viking to his side to let the man bleed out away from him. A damned waste of loot, but again, time was short. Maybe after he took a hit from the gas tank he'd get over it. With that bit of business sorted, the hunter took his seat and adjusted his hood for the sake of his companion before shooting a glare a Lewis "[color=00746b]How did you manage to piss off a Wallord? Fuck one of his wives?[/color]" he asked dryly.