*The alcohol is dulling his perceptions, and his subsequent reactions are slower than usual, so he's not expecting the punch.
The force of it knocks him sideways and against the cupboard; his head connecting with the wall behind him and the bottle hitting the floor with a crack as it falls out of his hand, showering them both with alcohol as it tips over too sharply.
It doesn't smash, just rolls in a circle on its side, vodka pouring out onto the wooden floor, first as a gush, and then as a trickle.
For a moment, he can taste blood in his mouth where he bit his tongue as his head hit the wall. He leans back heavily on the cupboard, his hand to his face; shock replacing anger, just briefly.
And then his anger flares again, and he raises his arm, backhanding Wright across the face with as much force as he can manage.*
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The force of it knocks him sideways and against the cupboard; his head connecting with the wall behind him and the bottle hitting the floor with a crack as it falls out of his hand, showering them both with alcohol as it tips over too sharply.
It doesn't smash, just rolls in a circle on its side, vodka pouring out onto the wooden floor, first as a gush, and then as a trickle.
For a moment, he can taste blood in his mouth where he bit his tongue as his head hit the wall. He leans back heavily on the cupboard, his hand to his face; shock replacing anger, just briefly.
And then his anger flares again, and he raises his arm, backhanding Wright across the face with as much force as he can manage.*