For a moment Ryland thought the man was going to trip him. Getting down low with legs and arms flailing usually meant a swipe at the ankles was quickly followed. But no attack came, not that Ryland would have been able to stop it or help himself if it did. Instead it was just a shitty bow but he could kind of get used to it. It was about time people learnt that their place was meant to be grovelling at his feet.
When Sparrow stood to his full height before him, Ryland let out a small sigh. He rolled his eyes and head upwards, seemingly unaffected by the clear intimidation tactic as he looked the man dead on. If Ry had a dollar for every time someone had played the height card against him then he’d be a very rich man. Nothing to spend it on these days but rich none the less.
He knew men like this; had known them all his life. Those desperate to be seen or to make an impact. Those that wanted something; wanted to be something. Given what little Ryland knew of Sparrow mixed with his current actions it was a pretty easy play to call. Sparrow needed to be heard, wanted to be taken seriously and followed – maybe even feared – and with the crowd like this the best way to do that was to make an example of someone else.
Smirk met smirk and Ryland idly wished he still had his cigarette so he could blow smoke in the fuckers face. But that, he told himself, would be playing in the others game. Never give a viper reason to strike. It was brilliant wisdom and there was no way in hell that Ryland was going to play the example puppet here. Backing down was never an option but arching up was counterproductive.
Shrugging obviously, Ryland’s face twisted into an expression of nonchalance. “Meh, your loss,” was all he said. He didn’t look away, didn’t even try to cross his arms in an attempt to be threatening back but he also didn’t take a step back.