<3 GETTING BACK IN THE SADDLE, SORRY FOR DELAY. to demi to wrap!
That soft, low cautioning tone from the enormous man is enough of a sign; some sort of confirmation that violence ain't going to happen here tonight. It should help Cal relax, though it doesn't, not really.
His fists keep clenching and unclenching, and for a moment, staring down at them (working as if by their own volition), Cal has the creeping awareness that that it's gonna be him. If he stays, it's gonna be him that swings that first punch and shatters the peace and rains hell down on the bar, and he can't have that kind of guilt on his shoulders. Not after the trigger he's already pulled, and the strain he's seeing in the corners of Demi's eyes.
So Cal exhales. Reminds himself that they're no risk to her—he's learned that, now.
"I need some fresh air," he announces, though no one's really paying much attention to him. He exchanges a pointed look with Demi, and Demi alone, ignoring the other two and their jabs and bait, and adds, "I'll be outside when you're ready to go."
With fists still knotted, the man strides towards the exit of the Chestnut, and lets himself loose into the hot night and back to his truck. His hands shake only slightly as he pulls open the door and installs himself inside. He doesn't punch the dashboard; he isn't dramatic enough for that. But Cal tugs open the glove compartment and starts rummaging around inside to find the cigarette pack for the smoking habit he'd quit, and now finds himself headlong back in.