"What? You're leaving me with both of them?" Celandine can't help but squeak in dismay, ears and tail shooting up as she looks at sensible Strange storming out. The least sensible Strange could do is take his worse half with him! She doesn't want to be babysitting two dysfunctional halves, especially when she's completely sure she doesn't want to touch one of them!

Lambert, in the meantime, has pushed himself to his feet, cradling his injured hand with the other and hissing as his fingers brush hard material embedded in his hand. What the hell...? He looks up just in time to see dysfunctional Strange blow snot and glass into his hand and hisses, jerking back.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" That goes on the physical and metaphorical level as well. The bartender, on the other hand, doesn't seem too pleased to have patrons that are willing to punch others on his premises, and is raising a hand to beckon the bouncers over.