You didn't go through life shooting your mouth off like that without getting hit. A lot. It had been a while, maybe, but the two had been right. Rhaena (and her large and often angry brother and his lupine wife). The drow and whatever happened down there. Catch. How many others? Even his friends. Calomel once tossed him across the Dagger. Ariane had gotten her licks in when appropriate. Having a friend like Agnie meant... well, there had been a lot of punches, and moments like this, on a road paved with insults and with a kept gate as literal as a door to spark their arrival? Well, you found yourself ready for them.
A number of things happened at once, none of them particularly dramatic. The door opened. The impending knock became an expectant punch. A fist was a fist. Recognition hit Glenn before the fist did. It was the older one, and damn was that not the most satisfying thing imaginable in this one, frustrating moment. A bright smile flashed upon the face of the former governor and it was with that smile that he met the inevitable fist. His face turned slightly so that it was a broad section of his left cheek that was struck and he fell backwards dramatically (too dramatically) with the impact, sailing a few feet across the room to land upon his posterior.
Was there a kick coming? There was almost always a kick coming and if there was, he'd squint through the pain with ready hands and maybe even a ready blade. A punch was one thing. A kick was another. If there wasn't a kick though, he'd inspire regret along those lines spit for effect as much as anything else (he'd pay for the cleaning later), and say with a groan, "See, if it was raining, you never would have landed that, what with your hip and all."
Had there been a kick already? Was there a kick on its way? What about from the younger one? When you were Glenn Burnie and looking the ripe old age of thirty instead of a cherubic and cheerful twenty (no matter how old you actually were at either point, older for the first and younger for the second), everything really depended upon the potentiality of a kick.