"I think it best you just peace-out, man." Duane gestured to the road, staring at the man as he grinned. "Three against one? You're mid."
Chris looked over the three, all shorter than him, skinnier than him, young, near Julie's age, perhaps a grade or two higher than her. Pink cheeks, buzzed.
"Uneven fight," he stated, and as they chuckled, the deliciously bitter taste of Guinness was still on his tongue. "I think you lads are outnumbered..." Chris crackled his knuckles without taking his eyes from the trio, remaining alert as their laughter dyed.
"You'reoutnumbered, old man, so you gonna fuck off or get fucked up?Yourchoice!" Duane roared, prodding a finger out to him.
"Then fuck me up, boys." He brought up his fists, healed from the marks of earlier, "Or wake up in a hospital bed... your choice." He added with a grin, his fists clenched as he looked to the three.
The teens glanced to one another, and with coaxing from Duane, got in their own fighting stance.
"Alright, let's fuck this boomer up!" The young man with red-dyed hair called, even though Chris wasn't of the actual baby boomer generation.
Christopher delivered a quick right-hand jab to the mouthiest of the lot, the red-head, who fell back peacefully with his lower body resting on the deck of the pub and his upper body over the edge of the deck on the dirt in the parking lot.
The man's head twitched as a fist struck his jaw from off to the side, the deliverer of which he slowly looked to while perceiving the third of the group already slowly stepping back after witnessing the leader felled in one swing.
Fist drew back, knuckles cracking, he watched as the teen's hands were thrown up as they ducked down and backed up...
With teeth bared, wanting to flatten the remaining two, he saw them retreating steadily.
"Take your friend with ya." He gestured to the limp form on the ground. "And don't ever bother Julie again, you bloody goofs..." He added lowly, menacingly, intensely looking to the two fellow's eyes. He could see their ignorance as the insulting word showed no impact... in the circles he was used to, 'goof' was a severe insult, and delivered from someone who wanted to kick your ass. If met with ambiguity, you're a bitch... and prison is anawfulplace to havethatreputation.
When he turned to the front door of the establishment, Jules was already there with containers in-hand, for the most part, a hand underneath the containers gripping his leather wallet full of cash. She watched the two punks call 911 for their friend. Claims that some prison guy went berserk... he was no stranger to administering violence. Boy wants to fight? Then he'll fight...
"At least twenty percent?" he asked.
Julie nodded.
"Alright, c'mon. I'll deal with 'em later. They got nothin'and it was recorded." He gestured to the nearby camera at the front of the establishment.
"O-okay..." She replied meekly, glancing to Duane who had blood running down from his nose as he sloppily lay on his back in front of the entrance, unconscious. She closed the car door and sat quietly next to Chris as he told the driver their next destination.
The green-haired fellow, on the phone, staring at the camera, going over how the footage may look with him only punching Duane andonlyafter he'd swung first, not to mention any footage inside of the trio pestering the two, with Julie looking pretty miserable throughout...
"Um, y'know? Nevermind, I think everything has settled down, no need for, um... well..." He looked to Duane, lying very still with blood running down one side of his tilted head. He was still breathing, his chest could be seen moving, but... "M-maybe a... ambulance... would be helpful."
"What the fuck, dude, what the fuck..." The dark-haired, blue-tinged young man had his head on an uncontrolled swivel. Looking to that prison guy in the cab driving off to Duane on the ground to his friend on the phone calling for help... mom was gonnakillhim if she finds out!
Chris sat calmly in the back of the cab, glancing down only when Jules picked up his hand and petted it, observing his face where he'd been struck but also noting the redness of his knuckles where he'ddeckedthat creep Duane... literally...
He was calm, cool, and collected. Ready to enjoy a few drinks at a pub... but Julie was not so chill. Quite the opposite. She felt... hot...
If not for the driver, she felt like reaching down to his groin, zipping down his zipper, and pulling his length out to suck him there in the back seat.
Her cheeks were blushing, her eyes were glossy, and she only had eyes for him. A man, arealman, whom she generally disliked thinking of as a step-brother andmuchpreferred viewing as a mixture of a lover... and the father she never had. Even though the idea of fooling around with heractualfather was totally gross, with Chris it just... mmph...
Petting the back of his calloused hand, clearly much more wrinkly and generally larger than her own, she spotted a fancy hotel that had a restaurant, and also a more traditional pub across the road.
"U-um... Chris?" she offered, and her heart fluttered as his stern features turned down to her as he gave her his undivided attention. "Maybe we could... would you like to... stop there? Or..." She looked over to her right, away from him, to the pub.
"Yeah, sure. Good 'nuff." He nodded, and raised his voice to talk to the cabbie. "Hey, mind hangin' a left and turning into that restaurant?" He nodded sideways towards the hotel, figuring it was a fancier place than the pub and so Julie might like it more.
"Hmmh..." She hummed happily and leaned into him as she continued to pet his hand as though it were a cherished and beloved cat. She felt it move insofar as he pat her on the lap before returning his hand to his own lap where she continued showing him her affection.
12
"Mmh, Bulldog... good gin." He spun the shot glass of clear liquid about, the second shot of gin. He had a bit of rosiness to the cheeks but she knew he was still very much only buzzed at best. The night was young...