Nate takes the ice pack from him, holding it against his cheek. "Thanks," he mutters, taking a swig of his beer. The ice is a relief as soon as it touches his skin and he groans a little in relief. If it looks bad now he knows it's only going to get worse, turning an array of colours as it heals, but there's not much he can do about that.

"Some asshole," Nate says, shrugging one shoulder. He takes his beer to the couch, flops onto it and leans his head back, closing his eyes briefly. "Giant, bones-of-steel, smug goddamn face asshole."

Exactly the kind of guy Nate and Sam have always picked fights with, only this time Nate bit off more than he could chew.