Felix glanced over his shoulder, straightening, pleased that he had at least one backer in the wings. He wasn't unaware that one of the men had risen, that this situation could quickly grow far more dangerous very soon. The rush vicious delight that Felix experienced while needling ignorant bigots transcended any fight or flight response. Win or lose, he'd provoked a reaction, and that was like a drug to him.

"Thank you," Felix said to the gentleman at the bar, giving him a gracious nod. Then he turned back to the table to explain, "You see, if I sat about loudly tossing 'chav twat' into every sentence I'd expect every one of you fellows to come running."