[Una's been trying to have a nice civilised drink in peace, but this big space marine type with an attitude problem has been not taking "sorry, not interested" and the silent treatment for an answer for several minutes now. She's about to move away when he decides that he's just going to go ahead and get handsy.

That tears it. Una slams down her glass, whirls around, and without hesitation grabs hold of a tender bit of the space marine's anatomy and squeezes. Hard. He yelps and goes white.]

Got your attention, sunny jim? Tell you what. You take your hands off, and I'll remove mine. And if you come near me again, I'll break it off. [Her wrist twists just a bit. A high-pitched, strangled noise comes out of the space marine's throat and he raises both hands to the sky. She smiles, a very unpleasant expression.] Good. Glad we understand each other.

[She releases him and he backs away, stumbling over a chair and knocking over a table. A couple of glasses that haven't been policed up fall to the ground and break. As soon as he feels like he's got a decent lead, the space marine runs for it. Una sighs, settles back on her stool, and gives Pugsy an apologetic look.]

Sorry about the mess.