"Whoa! Relax!" Daniel flung his palms in the air. He eyed the shards of glass from the broken shot glass. If he got impaled a second time in one night, he was going to lose his good humor.

"How th' fuck should I know what you are? Barely know what I am. Sheesus." He shook his head at the bartender, who swept away the sharp remnants with an irritated expression.