He was doing fine. Hand to hand wasn't his specialty, but that didn't mean he was hopeless at it. In fact, he was better at it than most field agents, because he was a brawler -he had to be, since he was on the smaller side- and he was half-fearless -which was kind of a prerequisite to being a SHIELD agent- and the bartender was already down for the count.

of course, by the time she was finished with McBeefyarms, was just finishing taking The Runner™ down, which hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped, but not as hard as he'd expected, either, and he was nursing a split lip and split knuckles, but nothing visibly worse. He dabbed at his lip with the back of his hand, arching a brow at her, "Ready to go?"