Jack may be used to it, but Tony can't say he's been in many fights. No, that's wrong. He can count the amount of fights where he's fought back instead of standing there and taking it "like a man" on one hand. That's because it's 0, the number is 0. As such he has no concept of what to do when Jack slams into him, pinning him back against the bar with enough force to wind him. The bottle comes next, breaking over the side of his face in a shower of glass. The only thing that saves his eyes is the glasses he's wearing, but that doesn't do jack for everything else. There's blood and the pain would be insane if it weren't for the alcohol. People are screaming and scrambling back. Hands are pulling out phones, pictures are being taken, calls are placed. Tony just laughs harder. There's blood streaming down his face, glass stuck in it in a few places, beer all over him. Feels annoying. Feels good?

Who the hell cares. He doesn't know what to do, but he's been taking self-defense classes for a while now. As such his hand sloppily. grabs the shoulder of Jack's shirt to hold him in place and his other curls into a fist. The hook he throws into the side of Jack's rib cage is surprisingly brutal, no force held back. It's followed in quick succession by more, quick jabs that get more wild, stronger, turn into a frenzy. If Jack doesn't do something Tony's going to keep going until there's enough room he can knee Jack in the chest and drop him in the sudden open space around them.

But hey, least they both seem to be having a good time. Right? Even if Tony's face is taking on more and more of an animosity that's completely uncharacteristic to him.