One Week Later…

Monica is a mouthy little brat.

While he did have full knowledge that in her personal life, Monica had more attitude than most, he was unaware of her inability to keep out of a work environment. For six whole days she'd been a consummate professional, both with him and with loyal customers, but Monday night was their busiest night of the year; Jack's penchant for beer and typical pub food meant a sea of NFL paraphernalia on Monday nights, with patrons looking for a place to eat nachos and wings and watch the game.

That also meant that some customers got a little more rowdy than was typically allowed in the bar and he should have known better than to give Monica the table with all the rowdiest customers.

Especially with Leo among them.

Any other bar might have booted his ass and issued a permanent ban from the establishment, Jack was a little more lenient about these things, and thus, Leo was still permitted to patronize the bar. He started off friendly enough; a simple order of wings with ranch, fries, and whatever beer was on tap - none, but Andrew typically got away with pouring bottled beer into a mug, and he never knew the difference.

"Hey Mon?" he slides the tray with the table's third round of drinks and second plate of nachos across the bar, eyeing her thinly veiled irritated expression; a smile not quite reaching her icy brown eyes and a stare that could bring any God-fearing man to his knees. "Be careful with Leo. The more he drinks, the more combative he gets."

"I've noticed." Monica bites back, snatching up the tray, ever careful not to slosh too much beer out of the tall glasses.

Andrew's eyes narrow.

The scene plays out just as Andrew feared it would. Leo is all bark and no bite but unfortunately, Monica is far more of a dominant alpha than the submissive little thing he took her for.

"She could learn to keep her mouth - "

Andrew's mumbled thought trails off when Leo rises to his full height; not much taller than Monica, but tall enough to appear intimidating and domineering, especially with the black ice of his eyes and the beer, heavy and sour on his breath.

" - Shit!"

There's a moment of wonder that he can't literally see his brain from rolling his eyes so far back in his head at having to save her little Irish ass, again. He digresses.

"Is there something going on here?" his voice is calm - tight as hell, strained to the absolute max, but calm.

Monica rolls her brown eyes and forces a pleasant smile up at her co-worker. "No, Andrew, everything is just fine." she turns back to the unruly customer. "Isn't that right, Leo?"

Leo wants to snarl but Andrew's stare over Monica's shoulder quickly stops him. "Give them their food, Monica." his voice is calm, even, but there's something urgent, dangerous behind his words. She makes quick work of sliding plates of nachos and handing out mugs of beer while Andrew either placates or silently threatens the customer.

With her empty tray tucked under her arm, Monica makes what she thought would be a clean getaway to the bar but Andrew is quick. Yanking her back by her elbow, directly into his chest. She tilts her head to glare and lecture but the tense twitch of his jaw - his strong jaw, sharp in ways she hadn't noticed before - makes her think twice about giving him a piece of her mind.

"Now, you're going to apologize to Monica." Andrew tilts his head just so, green eyes just dark enough to imply danger, should Leo choose to ignore his order of apology. "Or, I will personally see to it that you never dine in Jack's Place, again."

"She started it!" Leo protests but it is futile.

"Trust me, pal, she starts a lot of shit she can't finish." Andrew growls, holding a now squirming, furious Monica with a tight grasp of her elbow. "But this time - you tried to rough up an employee and I'm not okay with that so you will apologize or I will cash you out at the bar and you can leave your friends to watch the game in peace."

Leo grouses and grumbles a civil, if half-hearted apology, and drops back down beside his friend, who is muffling his giggle in a mug of lukewarm beer, only to promptly shut up with a sharp glare from Leo. With that done, Andrew drags Monica back to the bar, snatches the tray out from under her arm, and tosses it onto the splintering surface with a clack.

"I told you not to screw around with him!" he finally spits when he can wrap his brain around the interaction he'd just had. "I told you, for God's sake, Monica, I gave you a clear warning. He's a stupid son of a bitch when he's drinking!"

"I had it under control!" but her insistence is weak, straining under a week's worth of tension between her and Andrew. Of him being short with her, of him flirting with the pretty girls, especially the redheads.

"Oh please! I'm not a damn idiot, you insolent brat!" Andrew snarls, yanking the bar rag where it snags on a splinter. He tosses the rag under the counter to be collected with the trash later, taking the few seconds to compose himself, before facing her, again. He curls his hands around the edge of the bar, tightening his grip until his knuckles whiten. "Look," he finally speaks, low, even, less of the dangerous edge than before, no sharp tension. "You were warned. That is all I can do. And, diffuse situations when they come up. But you've got to pick your battles, Monica."

"But - "

"I'm not saying take shit, brat!" he corrects before she can even get the words out - he knows where she's going and he does not appreciate the implication. "I would never expect you to take shit but when it comes to guys like Leo, you have to understand - he likes to bait people. We brawled several times, I broke his nose, before I learned to ignore him. Deal with his friends but make no direct contact with Leo."

"Fine!" Monica crosses her arms, determined to be petulant about this.

"Now, do me a favor and go clear table six. It's reserved for an hour from now."