[Oh look, his other hand! Now both hands are on you, Reid, a particularly solid grip of the front of your shirt. Twisting his fingers into it, then along comes the heavy shove against the wall just behind you. With a bit more force than required and tilted upwards somewhat, but not enough so that you're quite off your feet.
A smile turns into a sneer as he leans in, speaking quietly into one ear.] I don't ever want to see you in my bar again. You got that?