"Ow! Asshole." Uriah pushes back against Presley with one hang rubbing the grievous wound. It does discourage him from touching Presley any further, though, at least for now.

"Not your type?" Scuffle concluded, Uriah soldiers on like nothing is out of the ordinary. He grin is back in place almost immediately "So who are you into? Who's gonna be on your arm at the dance?"