Lia moved willingly and fluidly to where Vince placed her. There were girls who would have gotten up into the mix; there were girls who would have stood up to the offending male themselves. Lia might have been one of those girls, in certain scenarios. But it was pretty clear, in this case, that the man was spoiling for a fight, and while it was probably still possible to talk both parties down from an altercation, Lia didn't see much reason for it. The guy was being an asshole, and Vince wasn't showing any signs of reluctance to fight. Given all that, she crossed her legs, looking up at the two men from her new place, no longer between them.
The man, for his part, sneered at Vince, and shifted his posture just as Vince did - more obviously - stepping forward into Vince's face, cheap whiskey on his breath and aggression oozing from his pores. He wasn't prepared - whether because of intoxication or a simple lack of willingness or ability - to articulate the bitterness and disillusionment that prompted his verbal assault, and Vince's words gave him plenty of reason to get into it without having to talk about anything else. "Mother fucker?" He said. "Who the fuck are you callin' mother fucker, mother fucker?"
With that, he shoved at Vince - hard.
Apparently unfazed (she had, after all, known many men over the course of her life, including her brother and innumerable cousins who always seemed to be getting into fights over all sorts of trivialities), Lia shifted back in her seat, simply moving further out of the range of the action.