Hanna jumps a little at the sudden appearance of...huh. He has no real idea of who this guy is, just that he's seen him around before. Hell, Hanna's seen everyone around before really, working at a department store in a small town. The look he gives Mr. Douchenozzle though isn't very amused, even if he's tense, and he glances over a the bartender who appears to be busying himself with something, ignoring the sudden interaction.
It's pretty tame so far though, which is at least good. "If I had my drink I'd make it disappear, but I've got nothing for you, sorry." He slouches a little more in his sweater, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Out of pixie dust today." Which was potentially the worst line to end with, but Hanna isn't the smartest sometimes.
He's not getting out of this that easily. Richard had seen this guy around before and he'd heard things and his girlfriend just dumped him so obviously the appropriate response was to harass somebody. Hanna just fell into his lap.
He grabbed the wizard's shoulder and gave him a hard shake. "I bet you could make something else disappear. Lemme tell you somethin', Carrottop, everybody knows you're sucking Satan's cock. We don't like your kind around here."
His glasses get a little jostled, and his fingers clench on his thigh, but he doesn't go to do anything just yet. He's not surrounded by friends, and suddenly the atmosphere is far more dangerous than it previously had been. He had left his marker in his work pants though, bad idea he's suddenly decided, and purses his lips, giving the other man a hard look.
"Dude, what's your problem? It's not like I made a pass at you," He swallows, unsure of his own actions and moves his hand to attempt to shove the hand at his shoulder off, "I'm sure we've both had a shitty day, so just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."
There was something about the use of the slur that made Hanna realize that he was steadily approaching confrontation. And honestly, the word pretty much made him hoping for it. Back home, it wasn't really something you'd say, it was rude, it was unheard of, and it was a sure sign of short sighted asshole alert.
He wasn't sure of Richard expected it, but his comeback as quick, "Well I don't like yours either. You smell like shit and you look like it too." He sucks in a breath, away from the other man's face because the air smells better to the side, "I'm going to count to three, and if you're hand isn't gone by then, you're going to be fucking sorry." Even small, he doesn't care that this man has a foot on him and maybe more than a hundred pounds. He didn't have to take this shit, and he would stand up for himself, poor odds or not.
Richard sucked a whistle through his teeth and let out an ugly overly loud and fake laugh. A small chorus somewhere in the smokey gloom of the bar echoed him.
Meanwhile, outside in the dark and a few doors down, Maurice was crouching in front of one of those quarter machines full of shitty toys. He was going to surprise Hanna with a pink sticky hand if he could get it. So far the machine was only giving him every other color BUT and he could see one near the bottom.
Richard twisted his fingers into the fabric of Hanna's sleeve. "Will you now? Here, lemme help you count. THREE."
He yanked the ginger off his feet and slammed him bodily against the wall.
It was when Richard got his hands real good in his shirt that Hanna realized that he should have taken the fist shot when he could. Now he had no element of surprise, and that's what he would have needed. He can land a punch sure, a decent one, but without it being a sneak attack, it's slim to none that he will actually land it now.
He can feel his whole body yanked, his odd weight distribution making it so easy to drag him around much like a rag doll, and the wind gets knocked out of him when his back hits the wall. His vision is spinning, and he's blinking up at the man who's still got a hold of him, both hands attempting to wrestle his one off his shoulder. Disorientation makes it hard to focus, and his hands aren't working like they should. God his back hurts.
Sorry, Hanna. Sucker Punch won't do much damage to Richard. He's a fighting-type.
The air started to vibrate and there was a collective shuffling sound of at least a dozen shoulders being turned. Everyone looked the other way in shit holes like this. Others watched with ugly grins barely hidden behind cupped hands.
"I said three! Three! You forget how to count?" He reeled his arm back and made a fist.
Green. Green. Blue. Plastic ring. PINK. Maurice beamed and tucked it away into his pockets before gathering up all of the other plastic eggs and cradled them like some kind of proud plastic farmer as he trundled his way to the bar. When he stepped inside, he saw a hulking form looming over someone else who was not having a good day. Like others in the bar, his eyes darted the other way. It was a part of life and he wasn't involved. If he was quiet, nobody noticed him. But now that he was scanning the bar, he was noticing a particular tuft of red hair was missing.
It clicked in time for him to hear Hanna's glasses crack as Richard introduced his fist to the wizard's face.
A rain of plastic eggs on hardwood was what finally got several heads to turn in earnest as threehundred pounds of vampire crossed the room without a word.
Richard paused before his third punch and glared over his shoulder, expecting the heavy footfalls to belong to the bar owner. Which honestly he could get behind. Getting blood on someone's bar wasn't polite. He would gladly take it outside. But the face storming toward him was one he never expected to see again and the color drained from his scratchy cheeks.
He didn't let Hanna go though, not yet. He had no desire to keep him against the wall but it was sort of like hanging onto a hotwire fence. He couldn't move. Couldn't react. War flashbacks played out on the backs of his eyeballs.
Hanna's hands never left the one at his shoulder, his legs kicking as he attempted to get himself free. When a mans hand was the same size as two of yours though? He didn't even stand a chance.
The first blow had him seeing stars and nothing else, a sharp pain exploding all over his face as he heard and felt his glasses crack. The second blow shattered them, the broken pieces of the frame and glass pressing into his skin, and he was thankful for the brunt of the blow being centered on his nose. He didn't want to be blinded here, not today.
He winced between blow two and three, waiting for it, but it never came. He's scared to open his eyes, wondering if that's all he's waiting for, for him to open them and see what's coming, but even then, it doesn't come. It stings when he opens his eyes, he's sure he's got some blood in them, and he can feel it dribbling down his face, down his nose, but he can't for the life of him see what's got his attacker in such a daze. His grip was still like iron, but he wasn't focused on him any more.
"L-let me go!" He manages, attempting another pathetic struggle while he's distracted, but it's still no real use. He's never leaving home or work without his marker again.
The gap between Richard and Maurice closed like two hands coming together to make the A in the YMCA dance.
"Drop him," said Maurice in the most gentle voice. It was breathy and shaky and almost too quiet to hear. When Richard only stared at him stupidly and did an odd sort of double take between Maurice and Hanna as if to check and see that this was really happening, he flung his jaws wide and cranked it up to a roar. "DROP HIM!"
Richard recoiled and in doing so, finally released his grip on Hanna. He turned to face Maurice, bringing his hands up in a placating gesture. "Wait. Just wait. This isn't--"
Maurice often prided himself in being patient and eager to talk things out because by golly it sure was easy to misunderstand things sometimes, but the smell of blood in the air was as thick as smoke and he knew exactly what was going on. His hand shot out for Richard's wrist.
"This time I'll rip it OFF!" And then, as he had the very first time they met, he yanked the man off his feet. Richard arched through the air beautifully and Maurice controlled his fall as if he were an Olympic ribbon dancer. The man hit the floor like an avalanche and Maurice brought his boot down on his shoulder hard enough for the crack to echo off the hanging glasses.
With Hanna's ears ringing, he couldn't hear the near whisper, but he heard his shout, and something like relief and terror kind of flooded into his heart and soul. Maurice was here, and he wasn't going to get his face rearranged some more. He's thankful, sure, but when he's suddenly on the floor, hitting it hard after being lifted off the ground, he feels the wind of Richard being flung in the air.
He watches it in slow motion, even if his vision is blurry and everything hurts all at once. It's too much though, he knows that, even if he's sure that he could have been permanently hurt by this asshole, and he struggles to push himself up, half falling over as he attempts to right himself. "W-wait, Maurice, wait!" His voice sounds off, the blood dribbling out of his nose making it sound wierd, and he can start to taste it in his mouth too. It's coppery, and he doesn't like it. "He's not worth it, c-come on."
Because as much as he'd like for Maurice to rip him a new one, he doesn't want him jailed for murder either. That wouldn't help anyone.
Richard was howling and trying to stop the blows with his free hand. Maurice's boot broke every finger. It was then between blows that Hanna's weedy voice made its way through the angry swarm of bees filling the vampire's head. His boot didn't slam a fourth time. Instead it came down gingerly and Maurice let go of the man's hand.
He turned, tears and snot streaking his face, and reached for Hanna's arms. He was bleeding everywhere he had fallen down his BABY. "Oh God, oh God are you okay? I'm so sorry, this is my fault, I was busy fucking around outside! Can you stand up?"
Without waiting for Hanna to answer his hands were all over the smaller man's face checking to see if he had both eyes in his head, if he had all his teeth. Noses weren't that important.
It's a little strange, hearing the pained noises Richard made on the floor with Maurice turning and cooing over him. When Maurice moves to touch his face, Hanna pulls back a little, afraid of how it's going to feel if even he brushes the already bruised up skin. His glasses, halfed and shattered fall off his face, and he winces as he feels some of it slip out of cuts they had pressed into his skin. He doesn't even want to look at the remains of them, covered in blood as they probably were, and he shakily lifts a hand to his head, attempting to get the room to stop spinning.
"Can't see too well...M'dizzy." He manages, though he does try to get up again, almost falling again and shakily holding himself up against the wall that had just minutes ago, rattled him from his head down to his toes.
"Don't worry, don't worry." Maurice dragged his arm under his nose and sucked in a loud sniff. There was a tiny pop behind them. One of the patrons had found one of the little plastic eggs and popped it open because why the fuck not?
The vampire's face darkened again and he turned his war frown back on the bar. "Unless anybody else wants a dancin' lesson, keep your goddamn hands to yourself."
Because the kicker? Maurice didn't show up on film and nobody would believe anyone there.
He stepped carefully around Richard's prone form, guiding Hanna gently as he could. He didn't mention the truck in case anyone tried to tail them that way, though everyone was too shocked to follow them for the moment.
"Urgent Care's just down the way, you're lucky." It was hard to resist bombarding Hanna with questions. "Lean on me. Like that." He would have carried Hanna if it wouldn't attract even more attention.
Disoriented and a little in shock, Hanna lets himself be guided, though he points towards the bar, suddenly sounding concerned. "I didn't pay for my drink!" He manages, even if he had barely received it when Asshole mcgee showed up, but in all his bloody discombobulation, it's obviously the most important thing. He doesn't seem to want to slow for the walk though, still staring towards the bar blindly, even as he's led to the door.
Urgent care sounds like heaven, really, and each step he can feel his pulse hard in his face, like the whole thing is one big bruise, or his heart suddenly changed places with his face. "My face feels like a sticky bomb looks."
"It's okay, he'll put it on Bluto's tab. He owes us all a drink anyway," he muttered. He really wanted to carry Hanna. It had become second nature. Scoop up tiny companion and book it. But this was not a safe place to do that.
It wasn't safe at all. It hadn't ever been. Maurice felt like somebody had dropped a brick into his stomach. The blood smell was stronger than ever out here and he could feel it on his hands from touching Hanna's face. He was glad his boyfriend tasted so horrible or he'd fear that his rage might tip the scales toward bloodlust.
"I don't think he messed you up too bad...you still got your smile. It's...it's really hard to crush a human skull. You're gonna be okay." He could feel the tears welling up again.
Hanna's at least calmed by the idea that someone else might pick up his bill. He wasn't the type to dine and ditch, but when he's heading to the emergency room, well. He moves slow, knowing he got jostled a little too hard, and he hopes that the dizziness isn't going to stay, but it's hard to focus still, and when they get outside, the cool air doesn't feel good.
"D-don't think anythings broken but my nose." Which, he always thought it wasn't the best thing ever. Maybe it'll give him an edgey look. "Thanks...for saving me by the way." He manages, coughing because some of that blood leaking out of his nose is getting caught in his throat too. "M-my hero."
Maurice tightened his grip in what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.
"Any time...I'm so sorry this happened." He could have filled the air with 'I should have's but now wasn't the time. Hanna needed medical attention. Soon the glow of the Urgent Care 24 Hour Clinic washed over them. "Asshole'll think twice before picking on anyone. That guy's a loose canon. I thought he learned his lesson the first time."
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theattic2014-11-09 07:55 pm
no subject
It's pretty tame so far though, which is at least good. "If I had my drink I'd make it disappear, but I've got nothing for you, sorry." He slouches a little more in his sweater, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Out of pixie dust today." Which was potentially the worst line to end with, but Hanna isn't the smartest sometimes.
no subject
He's not getting out of this that easily. Richard had seen this guy around before and he'd heard things and his girlfriend just dumped him so obviously the appropriate response was to harass somebody. Hanna just fell into his lap.
He grabbed the wizard's shoulder and gave him a hard shake. "I bet you could make something else disappear. Lemme tell you somethin', Carrottop, everybody knows you're sucking Satan's cock. We don't like your kind around here."
Naturally, nobody did anything.
no subject
"Dude, what's your problem? It's not like I made a pass at you," He swallows, unsure of his own actions and moves his hand to attempt to shove the hand at his shoulder off, "I'm sure we've both had a shitty day, so just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."
no subject
"Let me spell it out for you, faggot. We don't. Like your kind. Around here."
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He wasn't sure of Richard expected it, but his comeback as quick, "Well I don't like yours either. You smell like shit and you look like it too." He sucks in a breath, away from the other man's face because the air smells better to the side, "I'm going to count to three, and if you're hand isn't gone by then, you're going to be fucking sorry." Even small, he doesn't care that this man has a foot on him and maybe more than a hundred pounds. He didn't have to take this shit, and he would stand up for himself, poor odds or not.
no subject
Meanwhile, outside in the dark and a few doors down, Maurice was crouching in front of one of those quarter machines full of shitty toys. He was going to surprise Hanna with a pink sticky hand if he could get it. So far the machine was only giving him every other color BUT and he could see one near the bottom.
Richard twisted his fingers into the fabric of Hanna's sleeve. "Will you now? Here, lemme help you count. THREE."
He yanked the ginger off his feet and slammed him bodily against the wall.
no subject
He can feel his whole body yanked, his odd weight distribution making it so easy to drag him around much like a rag doll, and the wind gets knocked out of him when his back hits the wall. His vision is spinning, and he's blinking up at the man who's still got a hold of him, both hands attempting to wrestle his one off his shoulder. Disorientation makes it hard to focus, and his hands aren't working like they should. God his back hurts.
no subject
The air started to vibrate and there was a collective shuffling sound of at least a dozen shoulders being turned. Everyone looked the other way in shit holes like this. Others watched with ugly grins barely hidden behind cupped hands.
"I said three! Three! You forget how to count?" He reeled his arm back and made a fist.
Green. Green. Blue. Plastic ring. PINK. Maurice beamed and tucked it away into his pockets before gathering up all of the other plastic eggs and cradled them like some kind of proud plastic farmer as he trundled his way to the bar. When he stepped inside, he saw a hulking form looming over someone else who was not having a good day. Like others in the bar, his eyes darted the other way. It was a part of life and he wasn't involved. If he was quiet, nobody noticed him. But now that he was scanning the bar, he was noticing a particular tuft of red hair was missing.
It clicked in time for him to hear Hanna's glasses crack as Richard introduced his fist to the wizard's face.
A rain of plastic eggs on hardwood was what finally got several heads to turn in earnest as threehundred pounds of vampire crossed the room without a word.
Richard paused before his third punch and glared over his shoulder, expecting the heavy footfalls to belong to the bar owner. Which honestly he could get behind. Getting blood on someone's bar wasn't polite. He would gladly take it outside. But the face storming toward him was one he never expected to see again and the color drained from his scratchy cheeks.
He didn't let Hanna go though, not yet. He had no desire to keep him against the wall but it was sort of like hanging onto a hotwire fence. He couldn't move. Couldn't react. War flashbacks played out on the backs of his eyeballs.
no subject
The first blow had him seeing stars and nothing else, a sharp pain exploding all over his face as he heard and felt his glasses crack. The second blow shattered them, the broken pieces of the frame and glass pressing into his skin, and he was thankful for the brunt of the blow being centered on his nose. He didn't want to be blinded here, not today.
He winced between blow two and three, waiting for it, but it never came. He's scared to open his eyes, wondering if that's all he's waiting for, for him to open them and see what's coming, but even then, it doesn't come. It stings when he opens his eyes, he's sure he's got some blood in them, and he can feel it dribbling down his face, down his nose, but he can't for the life of him see what's got his attacker in such a daze. His grip was still like iron, but he wasn't focused on him any more.
"L-let me go!" He manages, attempting another pathetic struggle while he's distracted, but it's still no real use. He's never leaving home or work without his marker again.
no subject
"Drop him," said Maurice in the most gentle voice. It was breathy and shaky and almost too quiet to hear. When Richard only stared at him stupidly and did an odd sort of double take between Maurice and Hanna as if to check and see that this was really happening, he flung his jaws wide and cranked it up to a roar. "DROP HIM!"
Richard recoiled and in doing so, finally released his grip on Hanna. He turned to face Maurice, bringing his hands up in a placating gesture. "Wait. Just wait. This isn't--"
Maurice often prided himself in being patient and eager to talk things out because by golly it sure was easy to misunderstand things sometimes, but the smell of blood in the air was as thick as smoke and he knew exactly what was going on. His hand shot out for Richard's wrist.
"This time I'll rip it OFF!" And then, as he had the very first time they met, he yanked the man off his feet. Richard arched through the air beautifully and Maurice controlled his fall as if he were an Olympic ribbon dancer. The man hit the floor like an avalanche and Maurice brought his boot down on his shoulder hard enough for the crack to echo off the hanging glasses.
no subject
He watches it in slow motion, even if his vision is blurry and everything hurts all at once. It's too much though, he knows that, even if he's sure that he could have been permanently hurt by this asshole, and he struggles to push himself up, half falling over as he attempts to right himself. "W-wait, Maurice, wait!" His voice sounds off, the blood dribbling out of his nose making it sound wierd, and he can start to taste it in his mouth too. It's coppery, and he doesn't like it. "He's not worth it, c-come on."
Because as much as he'd like for Maurice to rip him a new one, he doesn't want him jailed for murder either. That wouldn't help anyone.
no subject
He turned, tears and snot streaking his face, and reached for Hanna's arms. He was bleeding everywhere he had fallen down his BABY. "Oh God, oh God are you okay? I'm so sorry, this is my fault, I was busy fucking around outside! Can you stand up?"
Without waiting for Hanna to answer his hands were all over the smaller man's face checking to see if he had both eyes in his head, if he had all his teeth. Noses weren't that important.
no subject
"Can't see too well...M'dizzy." He manages, though he does try to get up again, almost falling again and shakily holding himself up against the wall that had just minutes ago, rattled him from his head down to his toes.
no subject
The vampire's face darkened again and he turned his war frown back on the bar. "Unless anybody else wants a dancin' lesson, keep your goddamn hands to yourself."
Because the kicker? Maurice didn't show up on film and nobody would believe anyone there.
He stepped carefully around Richard's prone form, guiding Hanna gently as he could. He didn't mention the truck in case anyone tried to tail them that way, though everyone was too shocked to follow them for the moment.
"Urgent Care's just down the way, you're lucky." It was hard to resist bombarding Hanna with questions. "Lean on me. Like that." He would have carried Hanna if it wouldn't attract even more attention.
no subject
Urgent care sounds like heaven, really, and each step he can feel his pulse hard in his face, like the whole thing is one big bruise, or his heart suddenly changed places with his face. "My face feels like a sticky bomb looks."
no subject
It wasn't safe at all. It hadn't ever been. Maurice felt like somebody had dropped a brick into his stomach. The blood smell was stronger than ever out here and he could feel it on his hands from touching Hanna's face. He was glad his boyfriend tasted so horrible or he'd fear that his rage might tip the scales toward bloodlust.
"I don't think he messed you up too bad...you still got your smile. It's...it's really hard to crush a human skull. You're gonna be okay." He could feel the tears welling up again.
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"D-don't think anythings broken but my nose." Which, he always thought it wasn't the best thing ever. Maybe it'll give him an edgey look. "Thanks...for saving me by the way." He manages, coughing because some of that blood leaking out of his nose is getting caught in his throat too. "M-my hero."
no subject
"Any time...I'm so sorry this happened." He could have filled the air with 'I should have's but now wasn't the time. Hanna needed medical attention. Soon the glow of the Urgent Care 24 Hour Clinic washed over them. "Asshole'll think twice before picking on anyone. That guy's a loose canon. I thought he learned his lesson the first time."