In a second, Fisher went from curious to terrified. James was a scary motherfucker, and even moreso since he seemed to recognize that Fisher was the guy next door. More appropriately, the junkie next door who slammed himself into the walls all night because he couldn't sleep because he needed a fix so bad he wanted to tear his own skin off. Words. He could only imagine what words James could say to him.
Rapidly blinking, freezing on the spot, Fisher tried to think of what to do, if he should run or fight- and then suddenly his eyes flew open, grey irises round and wild. "I'm not lookin' and nuffink," he said boldly, suddenly fearless and apparently British. "What the bloody 'ell fuck are you pointin' at, ya fuckin' wanker?" He gestured wildly, stupidly stepping toward James. "You wanna sleep at night, don't land your stupid arse in a bloody fuck MENTAL HOSPITAL!!!"