"What the fuck, man, I didn't--" The words crumbled in on themselves as Trenton was pressed into the wall and subsequently decked quite solidly. He sagged against the smooth plaster, but managed to keep his balance despite the taste of blood in his mouth and the way the world spun in front of his blown-wide pupils. Our boy was no fucking slouch when it came to violence, if anybody in the building knew how to take a punch, it was Trenton. He'd had enough practice, after all. Once the initially bleary wincing subsided, he recovered with a shit-eating grin. An honest to God smile, even if blood smeared the veneered white of his teeth.
The nameless man came into his periphery, and Trenton sniffed with recovery as he straightened up his posture. Blood was dripping onto his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice. To be honest, he was probably high enough to not have realized he was even bleeding yet. His focus tightened as the stranger spoke, accusing him. Somehow, it wasn't until mention of Shiloh that those bluegreen eyes betrayed any flicker of pain. His brows tucked and the hostility was suddenly there in spades. "Yeah? And who the fuck are--"
He doubled over with the next punch, worried for a minute that he puke up his capri sun.. but after heaving to catch his breath, the sensation faded. ".. you? What do you know about me or my money?" Trenton panted, and slowly straightened again with a leery eye, waiting to get hit again.