I feel my head crack back with the bastard's punch, but I'm up again before I'm even done shakin' it off. My grandma'd say I got my Irish up (don't ever wonder where I get my sense of humor) and she's damn right; feels like I got ten pints of whiskey runnin' through me 'stead of blood, and I'm not inclined to stand down anytime soon. "You even know who I am?" I ask him, jabbing my elbow in his chest as he gets to his feet. "Huh? You even know why this dumb 'spic ran in here to beat the hell outta you?"