He hates bar fights, because of course he does. He hates it when she hears someone say something and her head turns and he knows exactly what's about to happen, knows just how far she's willing to go.

"We could have one night without you having to talk yourself out of a disciplinary action," he says into his glass, but he looks up and he sees that crooked grin, every moment she's had to fight for her position in it, and he puts the glass down and stands up.