Gren barely gets his face out of the way in time to avoid getting his nose caved in by a can of string beans-- probably something that he would've never lived down, that's one of those things that you just can't reasonably explain to people-- but he's not quick enough to avoid the roundhouse right after. It's a good hit, too, and Gren stumbles from the force of it and from the fact that he wasn't braced for it. He catches himself on one of the shelves and shakes his head like a dog to clear it.

Well, this sure is the beginning of a beautiful something. Relationship based on mutual ass-kicking, probably, which is not exactly friendship but is close enough when it comes to Gren.

There's a can near his hand and Gren grabs it-- pumpkin pie mix, you're fucking welcome, Wade-- and whips it back in his direction. Now, there are some opponents who would assume that this is a fistfight, and therefore the only weapons that should be involved in it are body parts. Gren, however, is of the opinion that if you start shit, you better not expect everybody to be all nice and following rules and shit, because the only rule when it comes to brawls is 'win'. In the game of fucking shit up, Gren wants to come out on top. Which is why he breaks the shelf that he caught himself with, giving himself essentially a long, jagged hunk of metal to try to beat this motherfucker in the face with.

Gren is not a gentleman.