Bentley fell back, conveniently right into an open seat, barely catching Evan. The movement was almost terrifying, if just for the fact that it only looked as though the man exerted as little force as it took to push open a swinging door. He wasn't even trying.

The men accompanying the mechanical-eyed man all laughed as Evan was pushed up to his feet. Bentley was holding his palm up peaceably, stuttering another apology.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it! I'm really sorry," he said. "W-we can leave if that, um, makes... you feel better. I-I'd really rather not fight."

"Lookit 'im, hidin' behind his friend like a coward," spoke the man who was previously punching his palm in anticipation. "We oughta' teach him a lesson about bein' a man." These were the worst types, Bentley knew - the kind who were violent simply because they could be.