[The look Rhys gives Dolores is a cold one. He's not upset with her for interfering - it is her nature, after all - but even from her, he does not tolerate even the hint of a threat with aplomb. Somewhere in the back of his head, he notes how beautiful she is, even when annoyed, but most of his attention is focused on pulling back, pulling in, his own anger banked into something probably even more dangerous than explosive rage.]

I'm not drunk. [His voice is even, quiet, tight with restraint. And then he turns and starts to stride out of the hall, done with all of this, done with Murdoc and disrespect, done with restraining himself so that a vampire won't recognize just how far he might go if pushed. Let Murdoc fawn and apologize - he's not in the mood for it tonight.]