John crouched behind the pool table to avoid the flying chair he knew was coming. It flew right past him, an inch away from the top of his hair, and collided violently against a drunken old lady, who promptly screamed, "What the fuck are you fuckers thinking?" and slammed her fist against the wall. That's the kind of bar John was in. Barry, watching this, pressed his eyes together and did his thing, the mindfulness trick his father taught him so many years ago, saying it ran in the family, and making him promise never to use it for harm (a promise Barry broke seventeen seconds later, when he punched his brother in the face and traveled back in time to avoid the consequences). He heard the familiar whooshing sound, and, when he opened his eyes, he had the chair in his hand again. John grabbed the pool cue and jumped over the table, ready to strike before the other man had the chance to break the beer bottle and use it to cut his throat open like a throat being cut open. John was not good with metaphors. He hit Barry hard on the temple, just a second before Barry could reach the bottle. Barry closed his eyes and, when he opened them, the other man was grabbing the pool cue. Barry was faster, and, with a hard kick to the table's leg, knocked it to the floor. The man lost balance and collided against the table, rolling to the side and onto the floor. "What the fuck are you fuckers thinking?" cried a drunken old lady, slamming her fist against the wall. John managed to get himself up and dodge just a second before he knew the other man was about to kick him in the balls. The other man kicked air, and John grabbed him by the throat with his upper arm and, in a quick movement, stuck his finger deep inside the man's left eyeball. "Holy shit", the old lady said, with a smile. "That's awesome." Barry closed his one good eye and opened both his good eyes, just as the other man was going for his throat. He ducked and, with a swift movement, tried for a punch, which the other man dodged. By his side, a family of three watched in horror from their table. The mother was covering her little son's eye. Barry said, "Excuse me", grabbed the kid and threw it at the man. The man dodged the kid, who collided violently against the whisky display. Barry felt bad about it, the whisky bottles being so expensive, so he pressed his eyes closed again. John was going for the throat grab, but he knew the man would dodge. He stopped midway and took a step back. The two men stared at each other, out of breath. "What's wrong with you?" John asked. "What's wrong with you?" Barry asked. They stood there for a while. By John's side, a woman was covering her child's eye like a mother would cover a child's eye. "Wanna call it even and grab a beer?" Barry asked, finally. "Yeah", John answered. "But you're paying the first round." "Fair enough." On the corner, an old lady was quietly having a glass of martini. John thought she looked peaceful.