Pulse quickening, Remy's struggling grew slightly more frantic at his words, spitting at his as teeth grazed his face, twisting violently, breath coming out in quick spurts, hanging in the air before him. "I'd ratha you just beat da crap outta me," he breathed, grimacing as he hit the wall, and given a hoarse cry as teeth bit down on his shoulder.
"Merde!" he swore, gritting his teeth, trying a different tactic. It would have been easier if the bastard had been wearing a shirt. He scrambled to catch hold of one of the belt loops of Creed's jeans, focusing his energy on charging that rather then his cards. He didn't care if he got hurt to, at least it might get the man off him.