Float like a butterfly, sting like a yeener

The Cage 
@Peter Von Bogér Wiper

Here again, as if he'd made a den here. The truth of the matter was he often took breaks in work to slip beneath any radar he might have mistakenly pinged on. There would be months at a time he did not have any task at hand. It did well that people paid good money for the work he did. Currently, all Echo had on his plate was searching for a suitable place to live in, ask occupying a hotel room was not among the things he most enjoyed. Now he was certain he would be staying long term, he saw no reason not to invest in at least a six month lease somewhere.

Otherwise, he was free to do things at his leisure. It so happened that The Cage was one fine source of entertainment for someone like himself. Both as spectator and participant, he enjoyed his time here. Some times, more than others. This would be the second time that he noticed a starkly familiar smell upon entering, though this time he did not spot the other hyena immediately. Echo was certain of it, and given he had little else to do but put his name in, he tasked himself with sniffing down the source. Perhaps it was Avery again, or perhaps, someone more exciting.

Outfit = shirt and cutoff jorts

Five weeks from her last fight had been enough to patch her face and body back together, wiggly teeth resettling their roots, cuts and bruises fading back to jaundice-yellow traces around the periphery of landed blows. But somewhere in this recovery she had grown haggard, a little strung-out, a little thinner. She had paced the whole neighborhood, and then the next neighborhood over, and ended up veering into the Cage, agitated and sweating. She needed to bash her head against something, and maybe her luck could finally change and her new buddy Dante would be lurking and they could blow new holes into each other.

She didn't see him, though, or anything worth fighting. Broke and angry, she slouched into a bar stool and scanned the crowd for any other familiar faces.
And then suddenly, after an excruciating wait, her eyes blackened, and Becky blinked to life. Kin, said the hyena. Asswipe, said Pete. She looked for his head in the crowd and waited, waited for him to come.

As if on auto-pilot, he let his senses drive him through the crowd. She drew him in like a beacon, and when he finally spotted 'Pete' looming by the bar, a wicked smile curled into his lips. How funny, she'd expressed some interest in harming him before, and now they were both in the building dedicated to doing just that. Where other places might not be appropriate to jam his fist into that fat mouth of hers, well... He approached directly, but moved to the left of her and addressed the bartender. Two Heinekens, open tab. "You look terrible." He informed the woman beside him, the hyena huffing and puffing as it presented him with the idea of moving closer to truly touch. Patience was key, here. They would have time later.

He smiled at her, and on another day she would have appreciated that. She remembered him being sour the whole time in the hedge maze, and Pete had no patience for sticks in the mud.

Except, that was her. She was stuck. And seeing Snagglepuss happy to see her was not enough to unwedge herself from the mire. She straightened as he approached, and then prickled with a low-grade electrical current as he ignored her, just to get a rise. Becky was outer than she should be, making Pete's eyes all black, but she figured the look would show her disapproval. She blinked at him and began to dial up a smirk. "Least I look good some of the time. You look like a Home Alone villain at the end of the movie."

Hey, real quick: fuck you, Echo.

He might have been more insulted if he grasped the reference. Since he did not, he regarded her with a expressionless stare as he turned to actually look to her. Her eyes were darker than normal. "If we were anywhere else, I'd advise you to keep your eyes down." He said, eyeing the gaunter features of the woman he had met a short number of times before. Something was decidedly off. Two bottles were slid his way, and Echo took one to offer to her, before bringing the second to his lips. The tips of his teeth were sharper than they often were, regrown after a recent shift and not filed as diligently as he had been. It made drinking a conscious effort.

UH EXCUSE??? He was one to talk, and at least her eyes were fucking dark and not fucking, what was that even, white? His irises were completely washed out and it gave him fucking cartoon eyes. She accepted the beer with a hard squint at its owner, feeling Becky huff and strain to get at the hyena just a little distance away. She took a long drink. "What are you up to?"

Such skepticism! Could he not be kind and offer someone a drink? “What is anyone here up to?” He countered, aware that it would annoy. “Inviting you to put your name in with mine.” He said after a beat of a pause that an ugly smirk accompanied. Another drink, deeper this time to match her pace.

Her eyes rolled. "I meant in general, but thanks for clarifying. I didn't clock you as a Cedar Creek guy." The bottle tipped again, and more than half of it was gone; beer was fucking soda to a were, it didn't matter. "Tell me what you been up to first."

Nosy, nosy. He supposed he did have plans to pry at her. “Cedar Creek is only good for this place.” He corrected. What was there to enjoy about being surrounded by wolves? “I’ve been staying quiet, being peaceful.” The genuine truth. He finished another sip before adding, “Visiting a place called the Food Rally in Crestview. A vampire killed a hyena I knew there.” It was a futile effort, but it filled his schedule every other evening.

”I fought his widow here recently.” He finished off the beer, finding it largely useless. Was that enough information for her?

He offered up some moderately interesting information, and Pete had it in her to appreciate, just a little, that she didn't have to drag it out from him. She gathered that the widow was probably Avery, of the supernatural monster spawn. She had met the woman once, in passing. "Why'd he get killed?"

A question for the ages. "He found himself in a fight he couldn't win, I suppose." The details had been lost in the midst of emotion and grieving. He was not sure how much Avery or Alina even knew. "Not enough trips to the Cage." He added darkly, a small smirk forming.

"Hmm." She finished her bottle, holding this thought in her head. Supernatural murders weren't so common, so wasn't it more likely to have some history behind it, some intention? But having never met the guy, she let it pass. "You ever fight a vampire before?"

"I've come close." He said, truthful. There was little point in exaggerating. "But, I know how to pick my battles." If it were a matter of life and death, Echo was one to choose life every time. Pride was one thing, but it wasn't worth his life.

She thought maybe that was a dig at her — she had been accused before of squaring up for fights she had no business fighting. This didn't bother her much, though, because those people were wrong. "So far," she added, waggling her eyebrows a bit. Noxious as he was, Echo was helping her feel more normal. "Wanna go a few rounds?"

So far. He hadn't come out of any fight worse than he had expected. Perhaps she could break that pattern. "Another drink," He said with a nod and a smile that was anything but handsome. "To numb the pain."

He would order them both something stronger; gin and tonic. It was hardly enough to do more than have his lips feeling slightly numb, but he did not delay. There was a short process of putting their names in, waiting for the current fight to finish, then being lead to the opposing entrances of the cage. Echo rolled his neck, flexed his fingers, and slipped free of his shoes as he stepped up and into the ring. Across the way, he watched Pete enter as well. He eyed her with a small smirk across his lips, though it was somewhat a hassle to keep them closed entirely. The tips of his teeth, scuffed and chipped from filing, still poked through. Perhaps she would knock some loose. He did regret having to return the favor. She had a pretty face.

He took his stance, feet as wide as his shoulders were, arms raising defensively as he watched her and prepared for her took take the first swing.

This shit was kinda weird. Echo was being pleasant, buying drinks, cracking serviceable jokes...what world was this again? She tried not to think about it too hard, belting down her drink and hopping her way back to the ring, letting the nervous energy trapped in her limbs finally find its outlet.

He smirked at her as she pulled her hair up into a knot at the crown of her skull. Always smirking, this one, or scowling, which was just a smirk turned upside-down. She smiled back at him, her eyes still black. Her weight shifted lightly from foot to foot, and she floated toward him, her arms drawn up...then, one-two, her right fist shot down to get him twice in the side of the ribs. A polite little knock on the door, if you will.


He expected speed, strength, agility. And given she'd had the first shot, he willingly drew the shorter stick. Her fists in his side smarted, and the hyena shook into alertness, driving focus as his feet carried him in purposeful steps to the side. He mirrored her tactic of swift strikes with his fists, both aiming to catch either side of her jaw. The left went wide, whilst the right connected with a measured strength so as not to end the fight too quickly.

Miss then hit
Double rolls were agreed upon!


So, a weird thing about fighting Echo: at every impact, Becky was reaching out and touching the other hyena, filling a piece of her brain with sensory information that had no bearing on the fight. It made her frown as she hit him, and it made the blow to her jaw hurt like background noise, almost, even as she turned tightly into his left and landed an upward strike into his cheekbone and danced away, throwing out a kick as she did so.

Hit and miss


The creature that shared his body was increasingly excited by the sudden shift in activity. Where once it had been pushing for touch, now it egged on a game of touch and go. His head was filled with whooping and braying, to which he huffed at the effort to keep his mind in the ring. Her strike to his face was jarring, but the pain was somewhat numbed by the adrenaline of it all. While the fist he threw in retaliation missed its mark, he managed to wrap his hand around the leg that swung toward him. He held his grip there, seeking to throw her balance as he twisted his body to the side roughly.

Miss n hit


Heyoooo, he got her leg! That brought a smile to her face as the hyenas jostled; Pete really loved grappling more than anything. She twisted along with him, her weight wobbling precariously, and heaved herself forward, the crown of her head striking into Echo's face. That one really lit up some sparks in her own brain, and she tried to hop backwards and twist out of his grip, but lost her footing.

hit, miss


There was only so much pain that could be watered down by excitement, adrenaline, and alcohol. The sharp bloom of pain in his nose and lip had him gasping some as he tilted his head back. He could immediately taste the blood in his mouth from his teeth loosening, but he swiped his tongue over the front of his teeth as she staggered back. It did shake his hold on her, and despite his best efforts, his fingers slipped from their purchase. The clawed nails that embedded in his fingers were, lucky for her, filed enough not to do anything more than scrape uselessly across her skin. In a last stitch effort, he moved to attempt to jam a kick into her side as she fell.



Pete wobbled, and ultimately toppled backwards, landing hard on her ass. That made her grin all-out, mostly because Echo was fumbling too, and the both of them looked like doofuses, not so much the supernatural elite that they allegedly were. "Whoopsie," she sang at him, and bounced back up. "Let's try that again." And she slid back into his space, her left hook streaking out toward his face!

double miss also :]


She was quick to right herself as she hit the ground, like a bouncy ball that sing-songed at him. It was a touch grating, but he was egged on the the excitement of the hyena to not let it sour the rocketing mood. Her fist came for him, and he managed to knock it away soon enough that it only just caught his cheek. It hardly hurt, but it did shake his focus in sending a punch toward her face. It went wide, and in the forward momentum he went instead to overshoot his arm over her shoulder before drawing it inward and downward, jamming his elbow into the slope of her neck and shoulder.

missy then hitty


Echo didn't use his legs much, apparently. They kept crowding each other and clubbing at each other's heads, and — aw shit! An elbow came down on her trap muscle, ouchie, and she was brought in close.


Her right hand came up to paw away whatever guard Echo might put up to his face, while her left elbow completed a swift, narrow arc: back, up and down to cut through Echo's face like a hatchet. Letting her weight carry her, she crowded him, aiming to push him into the ropes.

2 hitties >:]


Pete closed in, moved with a precision he did not account for as she broke through the shield he'd created for himself by drawing his hands back. In a swift movement, an elbow struck upward, then down again to strike true to the upper left curve of his forehead. Echo let out a snarled grunt in pain as he was shoved backward, momentarily stunned by the impact that had split the skin into a clean gash. Blood rushed to the surface, and in a single gush, began to waterfall down across his forehead and toward his eyebrow. Back to the wall and arms bunched to him, he tucked his head behind his fists and shoved forward with his forearms in attempt to knock he back. A knee came up to aim for her side or gut, but he was boxed in enough to restrict his movement.

Two misses :(


Her eyes widened at his surprise, and there was something of a smile in her expression as she kept working to push him into a corner. His little knees and hands she redirected, and in the midst of crowding him, her right arm swung out to bark him hard in the temple. Pete's preferred method of fighting involved making a weak point and hitting it as many times as she could, and she figured getting one of his eyes swollen shut or coated in blood was a good way to start.

Also, she was kicking his ass, here. Why wasn't he getting mad?



Echo's chest heaved with the effort of keep a steady breath, his lips parting fully and jagged teeth hanging stupidly out unobstructed. She shoved into him, and he shoved back, to no avail. For someone smaller than him, she was packed with muscle and power. Another strike to his temple, which stung and forced his eye to shut as blood bubbled over the arch of his brow and into his eye. The hyena was riled, excited, but ultimately hurting. It wracked against his brain, but he steeled himself forcefully, fighting himself as much as he was Pete. Anger and frenzy would shake his focus, and make it that much harder for him to pull himself out of being backed into a corner. He seethed out in pain, and pressed his back fully against the corner to create enough space for him to hook his elbow sharply up and into the underside of her chin.



She had him bricked into the corner, and somewhere within them and also outside of them, Becky overpowered her foe and bit at him; violent, but nothing out of the ordinary if you knew hyenas. She was bigger, stronger, and he was not running away. And they had always worked well together, the monster and her hyena.

His elbow caught her in the jaw, clattering her teeth together and sending her head back painfully on the neck. She made a noise, holding him still and sending her knee up like a battering ram to his ribs, and wondered as blood pooled between her teeth if she should slacken the leash, give him a chance to really fight back before she shredded him. She could feel his rage and knew he was struggling against it, and in the moment, that was enough to decide her answer. She snuck around his block to box him on his left ear, ding-dong, and took a couple of steps back.

She hadn't realized, before this fight, what it meant to be strong among shifters. It was...exhilarating.

2 hits!


He took her hits with stifled noises, his breathing chopped as the impact to his rib sent sharp pulses of pain through his torso. Even through the adrenaline, he knew it was likely to be a fracture. The cost of sparring another shifter. The clock to the side of his head was like a fly on his ear in comparison, and when she stepped away, Echo did not pursue her. Instead, he steadied himself, hunched his shoulders and breathed raggedly against the ache in his ribs. Blood gushed from his temple, running a crimson stream across the closed and slightly swollen eye. His head rung, his ears ached, and yet, there was a morbid smile stretched across his crooked teeth.

Echo was prideful. He was confident, he was self-assured, he was often cocky. But he was not foolish. He had told Pete already, he did not continue fights that he knew were a lost cause. And whilst this was a simple spar, it was one he could not win without the help of four legs and a full set of jaws. So after a moment standing with his arms raised and assessing the pain that wracked his body and the continued warbling of the hyena, he stepped away from the corner, but to the side, and let his arms drop. Pete herself hadn't come out clean, but it was significantly less than himself. But despite her injuries, she looked as if she was thoroughly enjoying herself. He laughed breathily through his nose. "You look better than when I first saw you tonight." He informed her. Blood stains and all.

The Cage, a place where good fights went to die bad deaths.

She gave him space to recover, but instead Echo seemed to give up on the fight without resentment, something she could not understand. She shifted her weight and blinked at him, her body ready ready ready to continue. She bared bloody teeth at him, a humorless smile. "Not you, though. That's really all you got?"

It was clear he'd pulled a trigger that could not quite be undone yet. She egged him on, provoked him with doubt. And while he hurt and blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled over his eye, he set his jaw and took in a painful breath. It wasn't, no. He could keep pushing, if he had to. It would be a waste of energy, his odds were stacked, but she was a terrier with a bone.

"A moment," He grumbled, and moved to lift his shirt up from the bottom. He made it quick, ducking his head to wipe somewhat forcefully at the blood that spilled across his face. The shirt bloomed in red splotches, but he hardly minded it. There was temptation to remove the shirt entirely, but the length of fur across his spine was nothing he would like to expose to the onlookers. They were at the Cage, which hosted a large number of shifters, but there were still plenty human patrons.

With a sharp inhale through his nose, he collected the blood that had pooled in the back of this throat, and turned his head to spit it to the side. With that, he rolled his neck, worked his jaw, and looked back to Pete with renewed purpose. Lifting his arms before him once more, he squared his stance and danced forward to extend a strike toward her face.

and he missed :)


He was rallying! That was nice. Still too fucking slow, though, she realized; she blocked his punch and pushed him forward again, that little ticker going in her head again. Stronger, it gloated, as she wrapped an arm behind his neck. Better, as she hugged him close, brought her knee again into his bruising chest. He kept failing to dodge, and if allowed, if she really applied herself, she could reduce him to a smear on the mat.

She wouldn't. She didn't have a reason to. But she could.

Two hits


Perhaps if he'd taken a second longer, or not underestimated how quickly she'd retaliate. She leaped right back in, full throttle. He staggered with the shove, and blocked too late as she pulled him down against her knee. The strike sent him gasping for air, and his hands moved to wrap around behind her knees as he was bent. A shove forward with a grunt through bared teeth did nothing to help him as he made to hoist her from her feet. A low sound akin to a growl found its way from his chest as the pain and the frustration began to build. For the hyena, the play was plummeting into something more intense, something of a challenge. And whilst he recognized that the female was stronger, there was a deep rooted stubbornness that contradicted the natural balance. He wouldn't be reduced to a cowering whelp so easily. If only he could shift forms, become more equipped. The beast pushed, and Echo was beginning to lose the will to push back.

Misses :)


Damn, he couldn't seem to get his shit together. Grips on her leg slid and broke as she moved, using her height to bear down on him and pitch him forward onto the floor. She followed him down, planting her weight over his back like she was wrestling down a calf, his throat pressed oppressively into the crook of her elbow, and it felt good, real good, to do so. She panted into his ear, her free hand grasping to immobilize one of his arms.

two hits! used for the push and the hold, she doesn't have his arm yet


She was like a stone statue, unmoving despite the exertion of supernatural strength. She bore down on him, and he buckled to the floor. Her knee drove into his back, and he took a moment to suck in as much of a breath as he could manage through the throes of the impact and the squeezing of her elbow against his throat. A true snarl unleashed as he worked one arm beneath him and reached to claw at the arm choking him, an attempt to pry it away. Her fingers brushed against his free arm, and he jerked it upward with his elbow bent toward anything he could manage. He felt the point of it crack harshly into something that felt vaguely like her chin or cheek.

miss for prying, hit for elbow
edit: it was actually two misses raylers cant numbers, but bamsy is a saint


She continued to grapple with him, a tight grin forming as he struggled in her grip. "Uh-uh," she growled, flexing her arm in further, and then — what did you always remember about elbows? They'd fucking wreck you.

The blow impacted her cheek, and under the sound of flesh being smacked was the distinct brittle snap of bone; she heard it happen inside her skull. The pain made rage flare up in her belly, but she had been doing this a decade now. She knew how to handle it. She doubled down on the chokehold and would not take anything but a KO for an ending.

hit and miss...let's say the miss was her getting kranged by that elbow


An impact, but it did nothing to loosen her hold on him. Breathing was difficult, especially with the bruising from her hits and the tightening of his chest against a shift. Like a cage holding back a bigger monster than them both. It was difficult, when he was being cut from his supply of air, when his face was stained in blood, and his ear was ringing in pain. It was a race to see which happened first, a shift or a loss of consciousness.

The fringes of his vision blotted, darkening and blurring as he grasped for breath around the acute pinch of her arm. Another wild, blind swing of his elbow backward bought him another hit, and in that moment he threw his head backward in attempt to catch her nose or teeth with the crown of it. No such luck, and it was becoming harder to keep his eyes from rolling backward.

Hit and miss


Nope, nope, nope. Her own face reddened as she strained backwards over him; if she needed to, she could snap his neck like a chicken's. But instead she only jerked her head to the side, her opponent's elbow cutting into the flesh at the corner of her eyebrow. He was flailing, but he was almost done. She kept her hold.

Double hitter! I guess she just does a great job of still choking him out.


In a fight in which it were life and death, he may have fought harder against the circumstance. He would have let the hyena have his way, refused to let himself be pushed below consciousness. But, in a matter of pride and privacy, he opted toward unconsciousness if it meant he would not be forced to make a spectacle of himself as he struggled not to shift before an audience. So, blood mixed with spittle spraying from his purpling lips as he spluttered out a throaty, choked chuckle, he let his head slump and his eyes shut. There was a few moments of simple limbo, in which he could hear the strangled yowling of the hyena, feel the wracking of his ribs and spine as it tried to force its way from his body. He could smell the sweat, taste the blood, then feel the cold familiarity of unconsciousness as it wrapped him in a dark shroud.



Finally, he gurgled and gave up the ghost! She kept him rigged up as his body went slack, letting the victory trickle down into her blood before she dropped his head unceremoniously to the mat. Smiling, despite the bloodied mouth, the impacted cheekbone. She sat back on his little ass and wiped her arm across her forehead; Becky celebrated by trampling the smaller animal. It was tempting to stay right here, maybe flip him over and make him slap his face with his own dumb hands, but with witnesses, that wasn't the wisest move. So she backed off, getting to her feet and draping herself on the ropes until he woke up.

It would really only be a few long moments. Six seconds at the most. In the time it took for him to regain consciousness, the hyena was effectively doused down and out. He rolled himself carefully to his back with strings of bloodied slobber netting from his lips to the dirty mat of the floor before snapping wetly against his chin, and he found himself able to grapple with his control and shut the hyena away for the time being. It left him to assess the pain of a headache surging against the back of his eyes, which stung as he let out another chuckle at the lights that hung above the ring.

He was effectively beaten, his second wind snuffed by the woman lingering nearby. She was formidable in a spar, he'd truly love to see here without the limitations of watching eyes. Speaking of, there was a host of cheering, whooping, and heckling coming from around them. Echo did nothing to acknowledge it, and instead eased himself to sit upright. Blood still streamed from the wound at his temple, and he was left to look to Pete with one eye open. "Impressive." He said gruffly, his tongue moving to swipe at the blood that had pooled around his teeth.

Damn, though, that feeling: Echo's face was masked with blood, his shirt spattered; she got high off that shit. And adrenaline, thankfully, was not a chemical her body processed at such a breakneck speed. She snorted at him and dropped out of the ring, eyeing the crowd and working out the laundry list of her injuries. She had wiped the floor with him, but Echo had a way of looking sort of pleased with himself even after being humiliated. It made her leave him alone for the moment.

He would make his way out and over to her, she knew, so she headed for the bar and ordered two pints and an old rag to mop her face off.

For all of you not following along at home
2 ribs- bruises from punches and a kick, left has a hairline fracture
Left cheek- pink and swollen from a punch, skin split a little at the height of the cheekbone
Mouth- lip is swollen and front teeth are bloody from headbutt
Left forehead- split gash from elbow, bloody, made worse from a punch to it and forced his eye to shut
Ear- swelling from a clock
Chest- big bruise bruise from knee
(not really bruising yet but there will be later ok now on with the show)

It would take him a few more moments of recovery, watching as she pulled herself from the ring. The chorus of the crowd around him warbled through the rushing of blood in the shell of his left ear, which was pink and showing signs that it would swell soon. Blood still poured from the ugly gash on his forehead, and now that the adrenaline was waning, he noted that it hurt a considerable amount. He pulled his shirt up once again to mop uselessly at it, and it helped to clear some from the eye that was half swollen shut. He blinked against the ripe sting of it, and sniffed hard against the trickle of blood from his nose as he sucked the blood that was slowing its seeping flow from the front of his teeth.

Movement to stand was painful, especially in his right side rib. That fracture, goddammit, would be troublesome. Still, he pulled himself up, his jaw setting as he refrained from cradling his side as he moved carefully toward the edge of the ring. He was indeed following her, but he was in no rush to keep on her tail. He was careful in easing himself out of the ring, but slapped away a helping hand offered by one of the bouncers. A smattering of blood and spit was aimed at the man's feet as he pulled away. He was not interested in hurting himself further, but the smear to his pride was only so easy to handle. Once he found his feet, he'd retrieve his shoes, and put them on before making his way along the trail of Pete's scent through the crowd.

For all of this, a smile still lifted at the corners of his lip as he settled himself into the seat beside her. He reached for the pint, and the cloth offered his way by the bartender that had seen his approach. There was a long moment of silence in which he crushed it to the bleeding wound at his temple, and drank deeply from the glass.

She let him sit there, looking like a pile of dog meat. She drank slowly. Her mood coasted downward, slow and steady, as her mind went from pictures of the fight to those of Abhinav, and from pictures to worries. She'd taken the edge off, at least, but her problem was still squarely sat on her chest. Another drink, her sated hyena sniffing over at Echo's. "You get what you wanted?"

The taste of blood and beer wasn't his favorite, but he'd tasted it plenty times before. It did help to numb some of the pain. Or, would, if he kept drinking. She stared at him for a beat, and he waited for her to speak first for the sake of his pride. When she did, he looked to her with one eye fully open, and huffed around a stinging lip. "It's not fun when you treat it like it was a chore." He informed her gruffly, with a heavier slur than was usual for him. "I expected you to be doing a victory lap right about now."

That brought a little smile out of her. She liked the idea that Echo could think anything was fun. "Ain't on me, man. You need to get faster. You took more hits than..." Uh oh. "Than like a kid with a bong, in his parents' garage. Named Dylan or some shit."

She grinned at her own bad joke, drawing a nail through the condensation on the glass. "What d'you do for work, anyway, that means you can look like hamburger for a month and get away with it?"

He didn't need her advice on what he needed to do, but he did find himself laughing in what was largely pity as she fished for an analogy. Some kid named Dylan would take more hits than he had. He'd taken more than that. Unless Dylan was a bitch. She was at least smiling, which was preferable to see over some stony misery he'd found her in. "I'm self employed." He told her after another hefty swig from his beer. "My... clients will likely trust me more, if I look like this." They'd think him the rough and tumble sort, unafraid to get bloody. There was something appealing about a scarred face when you were looking for someone you trusted to kill someone else.

At the last bits, she nodded slowly in understanding, her eyes closing. "Riiiight, cuz you get paid to let people beat you up and then fuck you. You told me that before." Her eyes opened to give him a hard, steady look. Come on, dude. Enough playing coy.

Echo made an ugly sound somewhere between a snort and a tsk of his tongue. His eyes rolled as best they could, but it proved to be painful. "I'm glad to know you listen when I talk." He said as he moved a hand to the side of his leg, where he always had the knife tucked into a sheath on the side of his belt. He pulled it from the sheath, and set it on the bartop between them. "Close. People pay me to beat other people up. Fucking isn't usually involved." Even Echo, whom abandoned morals aside from his own person set, wouldn't fuck someone he was going to kill.

The first words out of his mouth made her grin in response, as much as her broken face could make that shape; did she and Small Hands just have a moment of fucking rapport? And she had half a second to marvel before he went and set a knife on the bar between them. Fucking Echo.

She ogled him. "You're kidding."

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)