"Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off!” He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead." He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father. "Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. “Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in.
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