[Nanu had meant it when he said he couldn't make it any worse—at least, here in Empatheias. He couldn't claim to have done anything to anyone Guzma knows here, not that it would have made a bigger impact; nor could he claim something about someone closer to him, like Plumeria. He's not going to forget the horrible feeling of claiming he stomped a pokémon to jelly anytime soon...but he's claimed worse, and seen worse. It used to be part of his job, and he's far past becoming desensitized to doing horrible things.]
[The area keeps heating up, thanks to both Guzma and Nanu's emotional output. But something else changes, courtesy of Nanu's specific brand of intensity. Everything around them is going...dark. As if night is falling, and the there's a spotlight only shone on the two. It's gradual and subtle, without going pitch-black. Just enough to visually represent the rest of the world being dulled to their senses as they focus on each other's misery.]
[Guzma's swing misses Nanu's face, but clips his arm - the same arm where he'd gotten it in the shoulder mere moments before. With grit teeth, he manages to suppress any vocalization of pain; he's not giving Guzma the satisfaction. Nor is he going to counter with any sort of offense of his own. For him, it's defense and restraint. Hurting Guzma physically isn't what he wants.]
[So he uses that hold on Guzma's shoulder, pinching with his entire hand. He intends to use that as a brief distraction, so he can grab at the hand that was just swung at him. Just another hold to buy time as they "chat"; Nanu's own grip is strong, and if he catches Guzma's wrist, then he's going to squeeze and twist it, with the forearm to follow. And at this angle, they're face-to-face again... sans mustache, this time.]
Me? Of course not. You've never been worse than a pest to me. [Guzma's most likely never seen Nanu's eyes this intense, his expression too-calm for his anger. While Nanu has a penchant for unnerving people with his stare, it's been a long while since he's donned this kind. It's so natural he doesn't have to try.] When you decided to open your rotten mouth to Anabel? That's the problem.
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[The area keeps heating up, thanks to both Guzma and Nanu's emotional output. But something else changes, courtesy of Nanu's specific brand of intensity. Everything around them is going...dark. As if night is falling, and the there's a spotlight only shone on the two. It's gradual and subtle, without going pitch-black. Just enough to visually represent the rest of the world being dulled to their senses as they focus on each other's misery.]
[Guzma's swing misses Nanu's face, but clips his arm - the same arm where he'd gotten it in the shoulder mere moments before. With grit teeth, he manages to suppress any vocalization of pain; he's not giving Guzma the satisfaction. Nor is he going to counter with any sort of offense of his own. For him, it's defense and restraint. Hurting Guzma physically isn't what he wants.]
[So he uses that hold on Guzma's shoulder, pinching with his entire hand. He intends to use that as a brief distraction, so he can grab at the hand that was just swung at him. Just another hold to buy time as they "chat"; Nanu's own grip is strong, and if he catches Guzma's wrist, then he's going to squeeze and twist it, with the forearm to follow. And at this angle, they're face-to-face again... sans mustache, this time.]
Me? Of course not. You've never been worse than a pest to me. [Guzma's most likely never seen Nanu's eyes this intense, his expression too-calm for his anger. While Nanu has a penchant for unnerving people with his stare, it's been a long while since he's donned this kind. It's so natural he doesn't have to try.] When you decided to open your rotten mouth to Anabel? That's the problem.