[Okay, that? That was hitting below the belt. Just a little bit too much.

The bottle lands somewhere on the ground, thankfully sealed tightly as Cloud pushes himself up, leg's straddling the others, hand coming up to cup his chin tightly. Congrats, Horst, you know have one pissed off Cloud in your lap.]

Never refer to me like that again. I'm a First Class SOLDIER, one of the vice presidents personal guard dogs, and you will show me the respect I deserve. Got it?