[ That result was a little more satisfying than the swing of the baseball bat, but Strauss hadn't done it so that he could sit back and congratulate himself on the spray of blood across the other man's chin and fine clothes. He uses the shock - the slackened grip, the reel of the head - to work a little space between himself and the bat that still pins him against the wall to twist his arms and get his own fingers tighter around the circumference. Still pinned, but with a little more leverage than before, he grunts gutturally with effort and curls his own lips away from his teeth in reply as he pushes back against the bat. There's a dull ringing in his own head from the impact against the bridge of Perhin's nose and his teeth but there's little he can do about it now; the quiet throbbing is mentally pushed aside in favour of adrenaline and sheer brawling instincts as he attempts to heave the weight of the bat and the other man behind it from across his chest. ]
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