...here, or in a Jaegar?

Miles, the foreman and ration-card king of Sitka, is an asshole.

"Hey, Flyboy! I thought we were all losing you to your fancy military friend." Even when Raleigh tries to ignore him, Miles keeps bellowing away to anyone in the tent-bar who will listen. "How many Jaegars does it take to change a light bulb? None! 'Cause we all know Jaegars don't change a thing!"

That did it.

Raleigh turns, beer in hand, ready to take a step towards Miles with intent.

"Watch it now," Miles crows, "Don't forget who is in charge here."

Raleigh smiles. "I know. Let me buy you a drink -- "

The next part happens quickly. Raleigh puts his beer down in front of Miles, using the shift in Miles' gaze to give him time for grabbing the back of Miles' head, smashing him forward into the beer can and spraying foam everywhere.

He thought for a second afterward that someone might come at him for the sudden violence.

People clapped instead.

Time to go.