Keats let out a grunt before he hit hard on the counter. His arm shot out to catch himself on the other chair to keep from falling off of the stool whilst still leaning over it in pain. It wasn't like he was in the Netherworld. Those sort of hits actually took a bit out of him. He rubbed his side before he slowly drew himself back into his sitting position.

"Violence is the sign of a losing argument." He choked out as he continued to massage his side. The wind definitely had been knocked out of him and he lifted his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as though that would help with the shooting pain. Quit while I'm ahead? Not likely, but thanks for the suggestion.

"I'm all for business." He kept his hand pressed on his side as his other once more went to support his chin. "It's not like I have much luck in carrying on a discussion at the moment." Funny how it was that even though he was coughing out those words that he still continued to speak at all. Like he would allow a little thing like that hit to actually end with his words stopping. That'd be like admitting defeat, which he rarely if ever did. Something that the three seemed to have in common.

"Well, you know what they say, variety is the spice of life."