Drizzt leapt forward and, catching the son's arm, threw him into a wall. He bit his lip as his swollen fingers scraped harshly against the rough lab coat. Blood spurted, and Drizzt abruptly realized that a large slice of his index finger had been neatly carved off. Damn, he thought, he must've gotten me with that scalpel. Sucking his somewhat smaller finger, he dashed out into the reception area.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing!" shouted a patient, face twisting with rage. "You killed the doctor! What the f^&% do ya think you're doing?"
He killed the doctor? That drowface killed the Miyth-damned doctor?Idiot! Get 'im! The room buzzed, faces scowling and eyes narrowing in anger. A brawny lumberjack thrust himself into Drizzt's hooded face. "My son needs that doctor! Gods damn you, b**ch! Rot in Tartarus!" He drew his axe and swiped, snarling.
"Yeah, that ____er just crippled me wife! Kill'im!" A soldier of the town guard let go of his bleeding wife and stood up, drawing his sword. His buddies followed, faces ugly with hate.
Drizzt backed up, uncertainly. He could handle them, but he didn't want to hurt anyone else. "Why don't we just pretend this never happened?" he suggested meekly.
"Pretend this di'nt happen, scum!" the lumberjack roared, chopping.
Drizzt jumped back, but the doctor's son leapt up and shoved him forward just in time for the axe to slice his cloak open.
The room stood silent, astonished. Then one man muttered darkly, "I knew he was just like his kind, stinking lying murderer!"
"Y'can't trust 'em," chimed in another, raising clenched fists.
Hate glared out of every eye. A few, forsaking their ill ones, starting breaking up the furniture, grabbing chair legs and metal reinforcers. The room advanced ominously, slapping clubs to palms, teeth bared.
Ashamed of himself, Drizzt whirled and darted past the gaping son. Snatching up a chair, he leapt for the window, tucking himself behind the sturdy seat.
Outside, the startled townsfolk saw a real live drow fly out of the window in a spray of shattered glass, clutching a heavy chair like a shield. An instant later a screaming mob poured out of the window, waving curtain rods and bits of broken furniture.