" Well, It Was A Fight That's What ... " Damon Shouldn't Be A Smartass Right Now, But They'll Blame The

the laugh is instantaneous and coupled with the two of a kind slap against the bar. " man, of the text-book medical journal identity kind, what the absolute fuck are you talking about. " pied piper, heart and soul, ariana fucking grande. it all feels like shit pulled from the cat in the hat — as in pulled from the cat's hat. " shit, you might just be killing me from all of this. the fucker joker, but like actually ... not the freak from the comics. " now, if there was something damon could pull endlessly from it'd be comic series. get him talking about those and ... oh, you'd be sitting for hours. especially after a few beers, a few joints. probably the realest they'd be without a proverbial crowbar. " you know, i'll buy your next drink. got me forgetting all about halloween night. got anything else in that head of yours though, kings? heebies or jeebies."

kingsley holds up his hands , half sheepish , half entertained . " if it is you , are you gonna kill me ? " he checks . " cause can you really kill someone who might not even be alive ? we're in purgatory here . that's what redcreek really is . we're here to pay for our sins , but not to a god . no way . to something else . the pied piper maybe . " kingsley lifts a shoulder and shrugs . " i'd never spout meaningless shit . everything i say , i mean with my entire heart and soul , which i think really do exist , but could be made out of paper straw or something . maybe this is all a wizard of oz gimmick . but if i see ariana grande i'm outta here , y'know ? she gives me the heebies ."

eyes flicker from their phone, brows furrowing a bit. " scary and spooky makes me think of xenomorph or the freak from 'it'. if you were ghost face, i'll be devastated i didn't get to reenact the ... " the hand grasping their phone and the free one rise to their cheeks, voice pitched a bit. " NO, don't kill me mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel ... " laughs almost instantly at themselves, batting the air in savannah's direction with his phone. maybe that's a bit too on the nose, crude and basic with the small town gossip stereotype. oh well, not like it didn't go through everyone elses mind. its easier to talk about this than their fucking embarrassment. wound buried beneath its mountain of salt. sugar poured into on top. a little salty, a little sweet. no, it's something bitter— " i'm yammering. lay it on me. maybe i'll spout some ideas for you next year. long as a meteor doesn't hit, add some extraterrestrial spooky shit to this creek. "

Savannah needed some time to kill before the band's set and thankfully, her initiating the conversation wasn't totally shut off. She wasn't always good at starting them, liquid courage helping her open up a bit more though.

"Yeah, I heard about it all. Small town, gossip tends to spread like wildfire," she spoke. Not trying to pour any salts in potential wounds by bringing up the events of Halloween, she tries her best at pivoting the topic a bit. "No, I wasn't really going as basic this year," she joked with Damon. "You're too cold on the guess. Think something more scary and spooky. Do I strike you as the princess type?"

maksym is far from a frequent flier at redstone ; embodies a distant fly on the wall. present, aware, but perched unmoving against the drywall out of sight. this the opposite of their other half. he, present on the stage with bloodied fingers from the strings, rhythm piercing the already buzzed atmosphere. mak is the oddity here, but who the fuck wasn't an oddity in this town anymore? still it lingers in the corner of their mind just how strange they feel in a bar. unwilling to make eye contact with other patrons as if it'd burn. disinterested in musical commodities such as the band ( or, maybe, just because it welcomed finch ). yet they linger. fly, shadow. anything except a person.

they sit with one whiskey neat and eyes glued to the yellow-tint of their phone screen. it's just something for them to do, bade their time as they drown a misplaced discomfort blooming beneath ribs. it doesn't have a name — mak isn't trying to find it either. they don't notice the this time real shadow looming over them. the figure cast by the low light against the counter ignored. just some other resident. someone looking to burn what lurks beneath murky waters with something stronger.

as the old story goes — it wasn't just some fucking resident.

taylan speaks into their space on purpose, he must. mixes in his volatile presence with their still water. it doesn't startle mak, not necessarily, but it births a new gnawing. their tongue clicks in wordless response, fingers tapping against the drained glass. bored? " bored. " it's a scoff, cousin of a mean laugh. mak doesn't grace taylan with the generosity of a full acknowledgement. tilts their head in a similar way, just barely, encroaching into his space like a quiet challenge. eyes obscured by the hike of their shoulder. the problem with being a nurse in red creek, and red creek in general, was being known. even if their brother wasn't a frequent body with taylan they're sure they'd be noticed still. small town. only hospital. they need out of this fucking place, but they haven't found the open window. " was me not fixing your dumbass up at the hospital enough? " caustic in its own way ; biting without the connection of teeth. fuck, they need another drink. two finger wave towards the bartender and they receive another liquid pacifier. it'd never be liquid courage, they aren't in need of that shit. " i'll bite, taylan. what kind of entertainment you offering? besides the threat of a headache. "

where : redstone bar status : closed for @c0nnectdots

redstone bar thrums with its usual chaos - laughter curling into the sharp notes of a jukebox tune , the slap of cards against table , the steady thud of boots against the floorboards . the air is thick with the tang of spilled whiskey , and a haze of distractions that fails to reach him . taylan stands just inside the doorway , the noise washing over him in waves , but doing nothing to sate the gnawing ache in his chest . it’s an insatiable hunger - the kind no drink or idle conversation can dull . his muscle plead for stillness , but his sinews stretch taut , coiled with restless energy that drives him forward . his chest burns hot - a bitterness festering , like old gear abandoned in the shadows of a rink , forgotten and rusting away . the ache lives too deep , a rot he can’t scrape out , a void that won't be satisfied by anything less than destruction . his eyes flick to the far end of the bar , landing on mak . wrong twin . finch would’ve been a guarantee of chaos , a devil perched on his shoulders , whispering bad ideas into his ear . mak , though , is all stiff-backed judgement , more locked door than partner in crime . taylan moves toward him anyway , his shadow dragging heavy across the floorboards . when he reaches the bar , he doesn’t sit . he looms , shadow pooling over mak's sharp shoulders . for a moment , he says nothing , doesn't even look at them , just signals for a drink . the sharp clink of glass against the counter cuts through the noise . then , with the barest tilt of his head , taylan leans in close enough to crowd their space . “ you look bored . ” he murmurs , low and sardonic , curling between them like smoke . “ let me fix that . ”

FOR : ha - jun ! @redcreekfm / @newwayin . LOCATION : REDSTONE BAR . TIMESTAMP : aprox 2:00am .

it's a goddamn disaster everwhere damon turns. its only been an hour since a fucking body was found ( ah, redcreek ! word travels as fast as lightning here ! ) and everyone is up in arms. there's whispers about the resurgence of the boogeyman, eyes of fear and anger all around as the celebration ends. people are rushing home, gathering into groups to thwart any other attempts within the night. however — like anyone else who couldn't stomach the thought of going home — damon finds themselves at the bar.

three drinks down, each one burning their throat harder than the rest. a prick of regret settles in the churning pit of their stomach. if it was going to be this packed, maybe he should have just went home. too late to decide now. the crowd at the door makes it impossible to sneak through without irritation. god damon is so irritated. they're sitting at the bar with the chatter around them growing by the seconds. they're trying their best to steel it, bite their tongue not to involve themselves. such is their knack, their nature. involve themselves, get to know everything and nothing all at once. damon just couldn't tonight. they decide they have to go. with a fourth drink emptied the second it met their fingertips, they jump to leave. ( here we fucking go ! the path towards nirvana awaits ! )

practically shoves through the crowd to get a single inch to his mile. shoulder - to - shoulder. sorrys here and sorrys there. at least people are aware of their panic, the tension they're pouring into the already thick air. they make it to the middle and feel confident in their escape — but their thin cord of patience snaps with a shove. single hand with force to the back which nearly sends damon to topple over another anxious patron. this ... this is what finally involves them. a hot flash of anger, adrenaline and the night's tension balling up their fists. " what the fuck, man ! " not a question. demanding, aggressive. they whip around and make the connection of hands, to body, to face. if they knew hajun, it doesn't register. it doesn't matter. what registers first is the arched swing to a jaw. " i get it's a sardine cane in here, but you're messin' with the wrong fucker right now. "

" clearly those melodramatic fucking monologues still get your attention. " words are accompanied by a laugh. sure, they'd noticed the guitarist doing what he does best up on the bar's stage. strumming like there's something to lose in the strings vibrations. hard not to, given history. given damon's insistence on knowing who he was in the room with. the expression on his face shows he doesn't mind finch's appearance, but the scrunch of his nose shows he minds their tab. the snagged bottle didn't even receive that much attention. " and you're still getting me to pay for your drinks. shit just don't change. " and it never seems to. if one day the sky dusted in technicolor, letting off sparks ... maybe they'd view red creek in a different light. the corner of their mouth twitches in a smirk towards the roaming gaze— their own sharp gaze fliting towards a covered hipbone. acknowledgement. a ' F ' and a ' D '. always some sort of reminder they both were here. " well, finny, ain't that the question? what haven't i fucking done? " two fingers tap against the wood of the bar. they mimic the rhythm strummed on the bass just moments ago ; the thing that countered the slight tension in the atmosphere. maybe that was just damon's, though. anxiety they'd briefly exposed with that dramatic fucking monologue. they'll stick to biting their tongue again. damon doesn't offer a toast, but their newly opened bottle clinks against finch's with a satisfying noise. they take a moment to continue, swallowing down a long drink. just for those melodramatics finch loved to point out.

" got into a fight right where we're sitting and you'll never guess when ... fucking murder night. halloween homicide. " tattooed hand with the bottle lifts to slice a finger across their own neck, " talk about bad timing, but looks like i've skeeved my way past the consequences of my actions. " their body leans just slightly closer. it isn't enough to breach personal space, but enough to prove attention is zeroed in on the younger man. beer released and rested on a coaster in favor of leaning against their own arms. " what kinda shit you been into lately, huh? "

*    ❪   🦇   ❫    ﹕ 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗮   𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗽   𝗼𝗳   𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀   𝗼𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻   𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿   𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝘀   in a job well done as   he worms  his way  through   the   crowd,   guitar   strapped   against   his   back   in   an   embellished   shield   for   the   A/C   that   threatens   to   dry   him   up   like   an   orange   peel.   metal   strings   are   splattered   with   the   blood   that   seeps   through   the   bandages   pasted   erratically   on   each   slim,   boney   digit.  ❛ what   the  fuck   are   you  even  chatting about ? ❜  he interjects, icy hues glancing over at the older man. a   familiar   face   that   usually   serves   to   spark   an   irritable   flame,   but   the   stench   of   violent   forthcomings   demands  attention from someone who relishes it,   letting   the   conversation   further   rather   than   die   out.   ❛ still   haven't   let   go of those   melodramatic   fucking   monologues. ❜    their   temper included.   it's what had kept the two tethered to one another. that and, other things.  finch's   gaze   roams   their physique,   seeking   out the   assumably   faded   ' F ' initial   that   marks   his   territory.  ❛ what'd   you   do,   d ? ❜    straight canines bare a lazy smile,   snatching   the   bottle   and   downing   it   in   one   parched   swig   before   tapping   it   against   the   island.  ❛ two more rox,   put   it   on   their   tab. ❜ 

the direct and casual tone catches her off guard. even has her voicing it atypically : " oh. " it's amusing, really. the nonchalance. the ability to voice opinion, one based in earnest or not, without batting an eye. a stray thought comes to mind: kieran should make a podcast or try putting his opinions to paper. might be a damn hit. " should i thank be thanking you for that? i mean, really, this isn't some sort of indie horror flick. but, hell, you're making me curious who you are suspicious of. that's just the writer in me though. " effie's earnest at least, but she is wondering what's on his mind, who. it might even be useful to jot down— consider it for herself. yet, out of good manners, she doesn't press.

eyes flicker down to the unlit cigarette leaning close. the unspoken request met with her own lean. cigarette between her lips she lights it with the butt of her own. obverses him over it quietly. a creature of habit she is. ends it with a long drag and a collection of her bag while she stands. " thank you. i'm not really ... scared, but i don't think i want to cram myself into the bar like everyone else is. that'd really be what wigs me out. not enough room to breathe. " she adjusts her purse against her shoulder, slowly walking in the direction her apartment rests. eyes cast upwards a considerable distance. effie's never felt small before, but it's hard to ignore just how looming kieran was. that's a frame she'd never want to see in a dark hallway — a horror flick — only his shadow visible. " i have to ask though ... were you headed home or trying to snoop? no judgement. i'm no better sometimes. "

…                      oncoming headache was absolutely a cautionary tale against night outs, did not mean to get so senselessly wasted, especially when he only really attended that stupid halloween party for one single-minded purpose. and well, that turned out to be an utter fucking failure. but there wasn't anything quite as sobering as the news of yet another tragedy, the cogs and gears of his mind slowly beginning to turn again despite the lingering effects of alcohol and god knows what else he might have taken. “ safe as life. ” which was just another way of saying not at all, blown pupils thoroughly watching the smoke billowing from her mouth as if it was the most entertaining thing in the world. but it was a needed distraction nonetheless, something to fixate on while he attempted to get his shit together. but maybe he needed a far stronger stimulation, harshly pinching the bridge of his nose ⸻ and a groan slipped past his lips, nothing like some good ol' pain to jolt someone fucking wide awake. “ you're lucky i don't suspect you, ” said with typical nonchalance, taking out a marlboro of his own from a silver case. “ i can keep you company till you think it's safe. ” he had read way too much data and while she checked the white working class boxes of most female midwestern serial killers, a journalist like her was more likely to be the vulture circling the bodies, rather than the vicious wolf itself. he could be wrong, it wouldn't be the first time, but blame it on the alcohol, because kieran felt safe enough to lean in, tilting his head to meet her eyes, the unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he silently asked if she'd light it off hers. maybe she wasn't the killer, but it still felt like flirting with danger : effie floyd just had that look, like she could eat you alive.

(  laz alonso  .  cis male  .  he/him  )  .    ⸻  abel d'angelo  ,  a  fifty year old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have lived  for thirty-four years  .  the  catalyst  is  known  for  being  passionate  and  argumentative  and  is  often  associated  with  old leather jackets stained with years of wear and grime ; an old motorcycle's association stitched into the back ; despite its age it looks well loved and never free from heavy shoulders / large hearts doesn't always mean soft ; something that beats so strongly has to have grit to it, it has to be able to bear burdens and that's exactly what you're known for / looking behind you is never going to get you anywhere, the only place to go is forward ; keep your eyes forward or lose them to the blinding lights of the past.  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  co-owner of redstone bar word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that [ LOUD SCREECH OF TIRES ]

full name: abel joseph d'angelo. nickname(s): angel, abe. age: fifty. zodiac sun sign: taurus. birth date: may 2nd. gender & orientation: cis man, he + him & demisexual. place of birth: detroit, michigan. occupation: co-owner of redstone bar, rider with the steel wings motorcycle gang club. familial ties: spouse of 28 years ( wc tba ), two children ( wcs tba ), younger sibling ( wc tba ). height: 6'0".

CHARACTER INSPOS : jax teller ( sons of anarchy ), luke cage ( marvel ), corvo attano ( dishonored ), herc hansen ( pacific rim ).

FAST FACTS ⸻

was born in detriot, michigan, but due to abel's uncle needing to retire from ownership of the redstone bar, the family moved into red creek when abel was 16 years old. it was a relatively easy adjustment for abel, since they found themselves drawn to adventuring. as a teen abel was a bit rowdy, getting into trouble for all of the right reasons. apart of wrestling in his high school years really made him the wrong kid to let you see shoving someone into a locker or determining someone as "lesser".

often hung around redstone prior to being 18, working under the table and helping his dad with random tasks. overall, they were pretty friendly growing up in a social setting. during his time working for his father and living in red creek, eventually he briefly dated choi dasom for a total of 2 months before breaking it off. it wasn't long after their breakup that dasom went missing, making abel and his new relationship with his current spouse a bit of a rumor factory. it eventually died out once he asserted himself as uninvolved, but the thought still may remain in old red creek's residents minds. it didn't help he was a known close friend of casimir's, the charismatic musician later murdered. abel seemed to take this extremely personal and almost shut himself off from getting that close to anyone else for the entirety of the string of disappearances and murders.

an active community member who tries his damndest to be involved despite his reclusive behavior. like his father before him, he's a man of community. such is why redstone is open place to be with comedy nights still upheld, the live band, and frequent pitstops for motorcycle gangs.

sometime in the last 10 years, abel's interest in motorcycles lead him to becoming a tertiary member of a motorcyclist group called the steel wings. occasionally he will ride with them and be gone for a span of 2 months, hence his decision to acquire a co-owner for redstone bar which became zakaria singh. nonetheless, there are times he can't stand to be within the walls he once stood beside long gone friends. however, there are times you'll catch him bartending and chatting in order to keep his face and stay involved with his patrons. he likes to know what is going on and remain his own bouncer in times where shit gets too messy.

a family man above all else. despite disagreements and roadbumps with his fast marriage to [TBA], all roads lead back to family. when it comes to decisions, there is always a thought about his spouse and children present. despite everything he is a warmhearted man and this extends to those who stick around him or become regulars.

hobbies include: mechanic tinkering, boxing, morning jogs, motorcycling, life-long standup comedy enjoyer.

POTENTIAL FOR MORE TBA.

water under the bridge had a tendency to get too high, threat of flooding often ignored. damon likes to overlook warnings ; pass through waist-heigh water and count the seconds until they're engulfed. however, when it came to selin ... there's a certain twist in their gut. the severity didn't merit groveling, but fuck the consequences of actions can make a paper cut look fatal. sniffs, a borderline laugh, at her. rising waters of damon's own making alone ; selin's more of a breeze. disturbing the surface and bringing the ripples. the leaves falling to rest on top without making a sound— and all that poetic bullshit they'd never say aloud. shoulders droop from tension with invisible cord snapping with the little bump. the smoke coils in his uncharacteristic silence, maybe signifying that relief he feels. its easy to slip back into a factory setting, let the smile curve against his mouth and hand rest against knee. " got to at least give me my few moments of actually being serious, sel. " this comes with an arm coiling around her shoulders, tugging her towards his side with an air of comfortability. their nasty little addiction and its burn, thankfully in his eyes, kept away from wafting towards selin's face. fingers wiggle next to her face.

" buuuut! you get tied up in any of my shit again, break my pinkie. i'd deserve it. you'd better promise me that. " pointer finger finds its target: her cheek. presses there in a longer than necessary poke. keeps the smile on his face that she'd affected him with. which selin affects him in a lot of ways. wouldn't have stuck around otherwise. she's genuine, at least he thinks so, in a way he hadn't found himself able to be. admirable, really. the air she brings ; spring little breeze. thinks she'd be capable of anything she'd set her mind to. after all, he wouldn't let just anyone stab him with a tattoo gun's needle. wears the presence of exactly two people against his skin ; one which has started to fade, much like the once freshly laid ink has. this one is still dark in its black lines. briefly wonders if he'd slip away from the shadows from her, too. " alright. alright. enough of that shit. tell me what's new, what's on your mind. hope all this creep talk around the time isn't keeping you up at night. be a real bummer to hear. i've taken the bummer award for the night and i'm not handin' it to you. "

" you do know the consequence to breaking a pinky promise is that i get to break your pinky , right ? " the warning is delivered with narrowed eyes , and all the faux malice of a house cat , despite her best efforts at appearing serious . teasing aside , selin had been genuinely concerned for moment that it might be true , the relief she feels to have him dispel that fear more real than she'd care to admit . remnants of the girl whose day used to be brightened just by catching a glimpse of the other in the hallway still seemed to linger every now and then , even despite the decade that'd passed and the friendship that'd formed between them . " yeah , alright . proving small town stereotypes false one day at a time , then . there really is shit to do around here . " the smoke that billows from his mouth mixes with their warm puffs of breath in the air , transfixing in a way that makes her itch to ask for her own cigarette . she doesn't even smoke , not anymore , but that was the thing about damon . it was easier to crave things off the path she'd settled into in his presence . a smoke , her art — things off limits or out of reach suddenly seem graspable . guilt stirs at the change in tone of his voice , the seriousness feeling foreign . she'd always hated to make people worry , or worse , to make them feel bad . and maybe that's why selin brightens , like she could fill in the bit of lightness he'd shed with his apology . " please , that's water under the bridge already . plus , you know , it's always exciting matching with you . tattoos , black eyes , what's next ? " she bumps his shoulder with her own , lips lifted into what she hopes is a grin that displays she was being genuine in saying it was alright . " i know it was an accident . "

(  harris dickinson  .  agender  .  they/them  )  .    ⸻  maksym "mak" kisková  ,  a  twenty-six year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  twenty-six years  .  the  snake in the grass  is  known  for  being  persistent  and  apathetic  and  is  often  associated  with  a smile on your face doesn't mean your kind, it's just a way of showing your skeleton and that you're human, too ; smiles can be cruel / standing in the shadow of great minds, excepted to excel to their expectations ; and you don't want to, not at their request / a desperate need to be yourself in a world you have a mirror / an anger that is placed wherever you can put it ; a cold anger, it doesn't burn when it hits / not being as put together as you seem and appear ; at the heart of it you're tearing at your own puzzle pieces ; you want fucking out of here.  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  nurse  word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  [ THE WRITING IS SCRATCHED OUT ].

full name: maksym alexi kisková. nickname(s): mak, only mak. age: twenty-six. zodiac sun sign: scorpio. birth date: october 27th. gender & orientation: agender, they + them, homoromantic asexual. place of birth: red creek, michigan. occupation: nurse at red ceek hospital familial ties: josef kiskova ( father, alive ), natlka kovalchuk ( mother, alive ), kazimir kiskova ( older brother, alive ), finch kiskova ( identical twin brother, alive unfortunately ), . height: 6'2".

CHARACTER INSPOS : gregory house ( house ), carmen berzatto ( the bear ), lip gallagher ( shameless ), armand ( interview with the vampire ).

FAST FACTS ⸻

technically the middle child of the kiskova's, they're a shining image of what it feels like to me the middle sibling. ( RELATIONSHIP WITH OLDER SIBLING TBA ). despite this, they weren't free from the expectations put onto them by their parents. however, one relief, was the closeness with their twin brother finch throughout their childhood. in a way, it kept them grounded into later years of adolescence once the pressure of a future and achievements to live up to came into play. they were a fairly solitary child aside from this, not quite feeling like they could mesh or empathize well with others aside from their siblings.

however, once finch lost all hope for his future and seemed to give up on everything mak's was triving for ... a rift pulled the two apart. mak sees their twin as almost an insult to themselves, a shinning example of the last thing they want to be. they can't bear the cross of potentially disappointing, especially, their father. the loss of their mother to assisted living played a heavy part into this as well. since with her absence, mak felt a greater draw into living up to their wit and intellect. almost as if to honor them.

they're not free from their own issues. with a bipolar i diagnosis, there's used to be greater times where mak seemed to rapidly shift between extremes. this caused a disarray with their father when they'd have outbursts in school and frustrated them whenever their motivation seemed to dip, especially, later in life. since being medicated they've seemed to smooth out, but this is something they'll have to live with for the foreseeable future.

their track through med school after high school was fairly easy. they found it easier than high school since they didn't feel another pressure of being social and part of friend groups. however, they did begin to open up with the slight distance of their family and recently are seen as more approachable and level-headed though still have that streak of being apathetic in interpersonal relationships. regardless, a pressure to preformed still remains especially with their disparity to leave red creek.

and leaving red creek is a must for them. since their disregard of finch, they want to become someone for themselves not for what they feel like is a name. it's a desperate desire ; wanting to further their medical degree outside of the confines of this turbulent town and make a name for themselves for themselves with their future doctorate. though they seriously need to work on that dry ass bedside manner. however, something seems to keep them here. it gnaws at them that they can't put a thumb on it.

FOR : open, come on in ! LOCATION : redstone bathroom ( or just coming out of it for accessibility ) TIMESTAMP : 2:43am

" great fucking job, damon. hilarious, really ! why not start a fight on the night someone's fucking murdered. genius ! " loud nonsense from a split - opened mouth. they're not speaking to anyone in particular, but their own reflection in the dirty mirror. they're not sure how bad they look, but they're definitely going to feel it in the morning. head, swimming. knuckles, aching. " gonna have a blackeye ... christ. " they smack their own face just to feel the sting. spring themselves from the disorientation of adrenaline and mixture of alcohol.

this is their cue to stop mulling and find a place to sit until the crowd settles down. slip away with an opening. otherwise, who could say they wouldn't start another fight? with their unsteady movements ... a threat of this already appears. shoulders knock into someone and they're immediately scrambling back like a wild animal. " shit — " their hands move in a sporadic manner of surrender. palms up, moving around in a circle in front of them. " sorry. i'm sorry — not trying to start anything else. swear it. "