Everybody's Lookin' for Something

[Ciaran O'Malley]

CIARAN THROWS A PUNCH.  It lands across his attacker's face and knocks him back a few steps.  The Irishman breathes harshly, blood dripping down from his nose. He staggers on his feet, legs trembling.  How did this fight even start?  He doesn't remember.  Something was said in his direction, and he saw red.  He's always getting into trouble.  His poor mam has had to deal with this his whole life.  Ciaran doesn't believe he's anything else than trouble at this point.  He's young and dumb and belligerent. 

"Go back home!"  One of the guys shouts at him.  "No one likes a paddy!" 

Ciaran roars out a yell and hurries toward him.  He throws a punch, but the guy dodges.  The next thing he feels is a fist to his gut.  Ciaran gags, the wind knocked out of him.  Another punch whacks across his face, and now he's down.  There's feet and hands hitting him, over and over, until he's coughing up blood and curling up.  He feels hands in his pockets, and then one of the fuckers spits on him.  They laugh as they leave him there.

He groans, trying to get up, head spinning.  Ciaran spits out blood to the side and manages to sit up.  "Son of a. . ." He murmurs under his breath, rubbing a hand over his bloody mouth.  His mam's going to have another fit -- especially since he lost all the money he earned that day.  One of these days, he'll get his money back.  He'll find them.  He'll  --  He goes to stand, and his ribs ache.  He's not going anywhere for a while.  Ciaran groans and just lets himself fall back on the cobblestone, defeated.

Tagging: Reuben Slade

[Reuben Slade]

Tag: Ciaran O'Malley

what doesn't

KILL ME BETTER RUN

Rueben had not witnessed what started the altercation, but he had seen majority of it. And did not intervene. Instead, he allowed the events to unfold, despite the two guards at his side who could have easily warned off the assailants. But this was not Rueben's business, nor would he frivolously involve himself in affairs that had nothing to do with him. And more importantly . . . there was something about the man.

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He had indeed, put up quite a fight. He had strength, there was no doubt about that . . . but he also had heart. Determination. And both, were natural qualities that Rueben valued in an individual to enlist them among his group. He did not actively seek them out, but when they crossed paths . . . Rueben would not forgo the opportunity. Giving a nod to his guards to secure the area, Rueben leaned on his cane to make his way towards the man who had fallen back to the ground. The gang leader stopped his movements when he was standing next to the laying man, towering over him as he showed clear signs of the fight. Rueben moved his cane, placing the bottom of it on the man's chin, and tilting his head to the side as if Slade was assessing the severity of his injuries.

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"It appears you will live," he told him. Though he already knew that, it was his way of encouraging the man to stand up. Setting the bottom of his cane back at his side, he naturally leaned on it. Not being one to engage in physical contact -- even though Slade's hands were seldom unclad of gloves, this being no exception . . . he reached into his pocket to extend to the man a handkerchief instead, before taking a small step back to give the man room to get up as well.

[Ciaran O'Malley]

"IT APPEARS YOU WILL LIVE."  

Ciaran groans as the cane moves his face.  He looks up at the nobleman through half-closed eyes.  Leave it to a noble to see this and humiliate him further.  He scoffs, sitting back up, scooting back until his back touches one of those poles they tie boats to.  He doesn't know what to say, so he spits blood to the side and rubs the back of his hand over his bloody mouth.  "Yeah, seems fuckin' like it."  He grumbles in his thick Belfast accent.  "What's it to ya?"

And when he looks back up at the fancily dressed man, he sees a pristine handkerchief being offered in his direction.  What is this?  Ciaran squints at it, considering.  If he takes it, what does this mean?  Does he have to kiss this man's shoes or whatever the rich folk wanted?  Fuck that.  But what if this something else?  He doesn't know the nobleman;  he doesn't care to know.  He just knows the king doesn't give a fuck about the people dying in the streets.  So what's the monarchy and they're stupid society to him?  They won't put bread on his mum's table. . .  

But there's something about this guy's eyes that makes Ciaran feel like he isn't just some freak show to this guy.  He purses his bloody lips together.  "Thanks,"  he finally settles on, reaching for it.  He wipes at the blood across his face and then tries again to stand up.  It takes some leaning against the pole, but he finally gets to his feet.  Ciaran puts a hand on his bruising side and holds up the handkerchief in the other.  "Figure you don't want this back, yeah, considering the blood.  Heh.  Bet this piece o'cloth costs more than me monthly wages." 

Tagging: Reuben Slade

[Reuben Slade]

Tag: Ciaran O'Malley

what doesn't

KILL ME BETTER RUN

What is it to him. A valid question indeed. For ordinarily, Slade would not stop for a fallen man. His loyalties not to strangers. And yet, Slade saw something within him. The same intuitive feeling he got when meeting each of his hand picked guards for the first time. A resilience and strength. And of course, a sharp tongue which Slade would not condemn him for. He after all, had a distinct feeling that it was that same feature, that landed him into such troubles. So Slade left the question unanswered as he watched the man rise to his feet, thanking him.

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Another interesting reveal about his character; that he accepted what was offered. That he expressed gratitude, sincere or not. Slade took a small step back now that he was somewhat stand upright, commenting on the rich quality of the fabric. "I will leave that to you to decide should you wish to exchange it for coin." His way of saying that he did not need it back, nor did he deny that its expense. But it was no matter to Slade. "And where is it that you are employed?" He was curious as to this man's occupation; if he did in fact hold a steady one. Right now, intrigue was set in for the Crime Lord and he intended to gather information about him before making his intentions of it known.