Thomas took in the reaction Melinda evidenced at his sudden appearance and expressions of interest in her. All he saw made him smile a hard lipped, lusty smile a confirmation of the rumors about him, he was the sort of man well took pleasure and pride in the fear and dread he inspired in others. The panic ablaze in Melinda's eyes only served to excite him all the more. With a predatory grace he moved forward when she took a timid step back, making it clear with his body that this exchange was far from over, overruling the refusal of his offer Melinda's shaking head attempted to convey.<br/><br/>In Whitechapel one is never alone and privacy isn't a concept or expectation its denizens possessed. So when Melinda issued her cold, blasphemous  refusal of Thomas' attentions there was lots of gasping, folks crossing themselves and mothers dragging their dirty kids of the streets. EVERYBODY knew a savage storm was coming and no one wanted to be caught up in it. No one gave Melinda a second thought or came to her rescue, they just figured she was in the grips of some sort of madness that robbed her of all capacity for rational thought.<br/><br/>Oddly, Thomas never showed  any signs of anger at being so disrespected. Nor did his eye ever leave Melinda's even as his big, rough hands balled themselves into big, beefy fists. Quicker then most anyone could track he viciously drove his left fist up towards her belly, never moving forward or back pretty much ensuring she'd end up falling forward into his arms when the blow forced the wind out of her and gifted her with body rocking agony.<br/><br/>"Didn't realize a popsy wopsy like you would just want to go at it in an alley like a common strumpet, but I'm game," he informs her matter of factly. Apparently feeling that the uppercut would settle matters and that she should know he's not a man easily distracted from his purposes. In many ways he was all business in this exchange, even as he moved to violently illustrate his dominance over her.