He feels Ned's hand there, but he shakes it off of his sleeve, and he doesn't mean to be rude about it, but his attention is elsewhere, staring down the man that's now turning towards them. He can sense trouble coming, too, but he's not like Ned -- he doesn't exactly embrace trouble, but he doesn't reject it, either, not when it comes his way.

"You got a problem?" the man asks, and that's one of those questions Ginsberg hates, because nobody ever asks it unless they know there's a problem, and want to be dismissive about it. This isn't the kind of thing to be dismissive about, in his opinion. This is the kind of thing to get mad about.

So instead of letting Ned tug him away, he stands his ground, and nods sharply, twice. "What makes you think you can say things like that?" he asks the man, tone of voice a little louder than he'd intended for it to be. "You say that shit in front of your kids, you share those ignorant, fascist views, and you wonder why they'll all turn out to be just as hateful as you? Who the fuck do you think you are? As long as there're people like you in the world, nobody's ever gonna be truly happy. You're poison, you know that? Poison!"

Oh yes, his voice is way louder than it should be in any kind of company, much less in a museum, but he can't stop himself. It's like his mouth is working three steps ahead of his brain.