[Jack's fist, hangover-aimed, vitamin depleted, and quite human, deflected off of Rory's shoulder with the similar velocity of a tennis ball(but not a Serena Williams' tennis ball). Not that the Irishman had ever played tennis, but he knew that the balls were fuzzy and even at higher velocities, a minor inconvenience. So yeah, thats what he equated Jack's rage to, although the snarl was a little more endearing. Attractive, really, but Rory knew that it was only the magnetized allure of a bargained soul that beckoned to him so sweetly. And damn all that was holy, he'd meant to keep his distance. For a natural brawler, such things were easily forgotten, but in this case, he didn't expect for it to be forgiven.
Too late to let go of the guy now, so Rory just gave him a rattling shake to shut him up and quit him from wriggling for a second.]
Just a little talk, mate. That's it. We can have it over a drink, as looks like ya need one.