Erik has been making himself available for work in the pub, as is his habit, so he's had a front-row (well, side-corner) view of everything going down. With hearing like his, he doesn't even need to try to know what's being said. Admittedly, it's getting ugly. Clearly, the two men know one another, so Erik hesitates to intervene, but now that true violence has erupted, it might just be time. He has, however, chosen his moment poorly.

"Gentleman," he calls as he zooms between them, "Let's all just take a step bac--" There is suddenly a knife in his belly.

The sharp pain comes as a surprise, but one that barely makes him flinch. He's more upset that there is a new slice in his good shirt and a blooming blood stain, too, though not nearly as much blood as there ought to be. He looks down at the knife sticking from his side and lifts one delicate eyebrow in what almost reads as annoyance, more than anything else.

"Ah. See, this is what I was trying to avoid."