[At this point Guzma's head is swimming with anger. It's been a minute since he's been this angry—even finding Jill in the state that she's in didn't enrage him like this. What doesn't help at all is the lack of gratification that cowering would give him. The man offers nothing of the sort, unwavering resolve against his inferno of a temper.]

Yeah!? Keep it up, you whacked-out freak! I'll bust your damn face in!

[Guzma's free hand is white-knuckled with how tight of a fist it's in. The only thing that keeps him from getting Nanu's face intimately acquainted with his fist is what he says, and the strange familiarity of the voice that he can't place for the life of him. Not to mention how that grip is surprisingly—and painfully—strong. There's a notable wince from it, but fortunately for this lug his anger numbs him to most pain.]

The fuck you talkin' about, yo!? Better spill it—before I spill your brains out on the ground!