The ex-boxer already had an answer ready. You could see it in him before he said it, in the way his chest set and his shoulders squared, the response already loaded and aimed.
Proxy did not let him fire it.
"Really, though, what's there to say?"
His voice was unhurried, more interested in the sarcastic tone than in whatever was being said. "The great plan you came up with was to drag your sorry ass here to threaten someone you cannot touch, in a room with a guard near the door."
The ex-boxer's expression changed, the veins on his neck nearly snapping with pressure.
"But I understand why, I really do."
Proxy continued. "Because you think yourself a winner, the last man standing, but until now you have nothing to show to convince yourself of that, much less others. Your greatest achievements so far was barely driving a truck through the finish line."
He let that sit for a beat.
"But you want to look dangerous, and that's why you are here, talking shit."
