Noah's face so hard and so fast that Freddie feels an immediate pang of guilt. It hits hard enough that he doesn't even trying fighting it off, but instead drops all of his posturing, shoulders relaxing as he rests his pint glass against his thigh and reaches out his free hand to grab Noah by the arm.

"Shit," he mutters to himself, tipping his head down enough to try to meet Noah's eyes again. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just-- It's habit. I'm sorry."