Before the man tried to lash out at her, however, there was a gloved hand rather firmly on his chest, not quite pushing him back - but exerting enough pressure to indicate he could.

There was no mustache. Instead, there was one James Barnes - or Banes, or Bucky - rather clean-shaven and fresh-looking, for somebody who'd flown across about half the world rather recently.

"The lady said no," he said, voice and ice deceptively soft. "I think it's good manners to pay attention to such responses."

"And who're you?"

"Company." James's eyes flicked to Fuu, and crinkled oh so very slightly. "Trying to save you from some trouble."

Because, if the man insisted to try a fight, he would be taking Fuu's lead. Taking it outside. Letting her fight herself, if she preferred. Whichever she pleased. James dealing with the man would be swift and efficient, and probably more merciful. If the stranger didn't take the warning, the result would be on his own head.