Just for Kicks|(Dal, Lucy, Mimi, Rog) FINISHED

[cuervo]

Roger, as disgruntled and unsatisfied as he must've felt after I left him practically blue balled, arrived by my side at the scene of the almost-brawl quicker than I anticipated. He wrapped a protective arm around me as I glanced at him for a moment and smiled. My eyes momentarily glinted with an apologetic "don't-worry-baby, there's-time-for-that-too" look.

Besides, I felt I had to do something meaningful in this strange life of mine, since most of the time I was only looking out for the security and well-being of myself and my friends because that was all I could afford to be doing. If that meant saving some poor girl from a couple of rouch punches, than so be it. No woman deserves to be smacked around like that, especially not at the hands of a burly man twice her size and strength. But I had to hand it to this bitch, she was tough. Even when she was down and disadvantaged, she attempted to put up a fight. She didn't even cry wolf once. I respected that.

Roger gestured to the fallen beauty behind us, and addressed her by a name. Kitten. It was a common stage name. But she couldn't possibly work here. How could I miss her face? Her rather elegant and classic visage and attire mismatched the profile of the average prostitute, but after living in this city for a whie, you got to realize that looks could deceive and that people could acquire a talent in bullshitting. I looked at him curiously, wondering where he'd met her, but I was still too passionate and heated in the moment to bother asking. I'd find out later. I faced the perpetrator, who was still busy running his fucking big mouth. I shot him a cold glare and spat at his feet venemously.

The bouncer glared at the young man and seized his arm as tightly as he could. "Goddamnit, if you can't control yourself then we're going to have to throw you out. Just cool it!"

The only reason I hadn't spat at his face was because I didn't want to risk being thrown out by Joel. We were friends, but he still had to his job, and many considered the act of spitting to be more violent and vulgar than pulling punches or kicks. I just considered it an act of disrespect that bore a clear message.

I noticed that Kitten was still behind us, looking a little shaken and flustered. I shifted to look at her and offered a small smile. "I get a little theatrical sometimes, force of habit" I joked. "Are you alright, honey?"

[LUCY "KITTY" HARRIS]

It had all happened in such a head-reeling blur that it took Kitty several moments to reclaim her bearings. It was not at all her initial intention to start any unnecessary drama. Actually, in a profession such as the one that she had the displeasure of possessing, all drama felt substantially unnecessary. No matter how much effort she put into avoiding said drama, however, she always happened to find herself buried amidst the haze of violence and visceral venom. This time, it seemed, she had been the true instigator of the scene that was unfolding within the boisterous club and captivating those in close enough vicinity to notice it. Not for the first time that night, she cursed her rotten luck and her own unfiltered idiocy.

Once her knee had connected with its mark, she could have sworn that she felt a sharp pang of unyielding trepidation strike her core. She had initially attributed it to simply the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body, dictating her actions and burying her in the amassing chaos. In hindsight, she now knew it as recognition. Recognition of what exactly? It was that familiar recognition of impending disaster and the glaring acknowledgment of a horrendous error she’d made. She knew it because it was a difficult memory to let slip. Amongst the frequent beatings and the perpetual wearing down of her already severely haggard spirit, that was one memory she could not forget. Spider’s fist would not allow her to.

Kitty watched the exchange behind a fort of fog composed of a warring calm resolve and an anxiety-riddled demeanor. So stricken was she by the continuously raging battle between her internal feelings and her external performance that very few words from those involved in the scuffle were registered. For reasons entirely well-known to her, her perpetrator’s voice seemed to resonate loudest of all. It was the rage, unadulterated and pure, that comingled with malice and hinted at violent intent. She conceded that she’d had enough recollections of Spider for one night, but as long as this guy was present, resembling Spider all too intensely for her to be even remotely comfortable, her mind would be continued to be bombarded by vivid images of her subjugator.

On the exterior, she only appeared slightly ruffled, almost if only because of the tumble she had taken due to his brusqueness. Kitty feigned indifference, and as difficult of a task as it was, she managed to uphold that collected indifference. She didn’t flinch when quite suddenly his eyes were on his hers again, neither did she recoil when he began spouting insults at her. Her jaw clenched slightly, but that was the only noticeable reaction to his malicious prodding. It was the subtlest of displays and she hardly seemed to be affected by it, but to the trained eye, she might as well have been sobbing. Luckily for her, no eyes were trained here. Kitty was a prostitute and one would think that someone with that title would be fairly accustomed to harsh sniping the likes of which he was hurling her way. As expected, her extreme discomfort stemmed from her unpleasant memories.

Trying her damnedest to shrug herself back into her façade, she succeeded marginally, but succeed she did. Mimi, Roger, and the bouncer’s aid certainly could be credited with the shred of confidence that she had regained. She adopted a countenance of irritation, tinged with a wisp of fury, perhaps even a tad pleased at the spitting act.

Mimi’s words finally clawing their way to the forefront of the muddled mess that was her mind, she gave one stiff nod, before remarking, “I’m fine. I guess theatrics are called for when dealing with real fucking class acts like this asshole right here.” The volume of her voice and ire increasing as her statement reached a close, she sent a glare his way, hoping that the apprehension brimming within her would not show through her paled eyes of green.

Noting the contempt flaring in the guy’s narrowed eyes and also noting the expression of reprimand on the bouncer’s face, she quickly eased herself back into a more tamed temperament. If she continued to provoke him, not only would he be thrown out, but she along with him. Kitty shuddered to think of what might transpire if left alone with him out on the street, the shadows serving perfectly as veils to the outside world and allowing him the opportunity to seek vengeance without the worry of someone intruding.



(OOC: I’m terribly sorry, Sammeh, for skipping you, but my fingers were itching for a post. I also apologize for the luster it lacks. I typed this up at around 6:30am while working on no sleep. Just figured I needed to get something done here.)

[ROGER DAVIS]

The urge to punch the fucker in front of him was still strong in Roger, so much so that he had to wrap an arm around Mimi's waist to resist the urge. The man still ran his mouth, spitting insults towards Kitty, Roger and Mimi.

"Dude, shut the fuck up. Just 'cause she doesn't want to fuck you doesn't mean you need to get all ass-hurt. Just put your dick back between your legs and why don't you just go on home, huh?" Sure, Kitty was a prositute, that was true. But that didn't mean that she could be called on at any word for sex by someone who she didn't want to sleep with.

Roger turned his attentions fully to Kitty. "Y'sure you're okay, baby? He smacked you around pretty good, the fucker." Roger commented, bringing a hand up to press it against her cheek for only a brief second before pulling back. "C'mon, y'want a drink?" Roger asked, trying to give the man the cold shoulder and focus all his attention on Mimi and Kitty, and not the man who had attacked her.

((God, sorry this is so shitty, but I didn't want to hold anyone up so I put up something, however crap it may be. Forgive me, guys.))

[yolanda7h]

Dally took a step to advance towards Mimi, just as she spat at his feet, but the bouncer took hold of him again. They just wanted to provoke him, he knew that. But he didn't care. To him, fighting fire with fire made as much sense as any. In fact, it was the only thing he knew how to do. And it worked for him. After all, this was all a bunch of bullshit anyway. Another excuse to pin something on him when he didn't even do anything to that chick. Mimi and her boy toy didn't even know what happened. But the bouncer didn't let up and grabbed him again before he could take another step towards Mimi.

"Get off me," he snarled, struggling with him.

"Dal!" he paused when heard someone in the crowd call him. Shit. The guys must be ready to go.

"Dude, shut the fuck up. Just 'cause she doesn't want to fuck you doesn't mean you need to get all ass-hurt. Just put your dick back between your legs and why don't you just go on home, huh?"

"Don't start with me, you fucker." Dally snapped his attention back to the other guy, trying to advance but the bouncer had a solid hold on him. "The way you lookin at her, you're probably one of her fuckin customers. Don't give me that shit, man. I wouldn't want to catch whatever she's got anyway."

"Dally! Where you at?!"

Dally turned to the bouncer and again tried to yank himself from his grip. "Get the fuck off of me man. I'm leaving. Save you the trouble of fuckin throwing me out."

The bouncer let him go and Dally immediately begin walking away from him. The bouncer, however, still wanted to get his last word in. "Don't let me catch you in here again causing a bunch of mess, alright?"

Dally rolled his eyes and walked pass the group to leave, flashing two middle fingers at all of them before catching up with his group. Heck, this night was starting out to be pretty shitty, but once he saw the guys smashed out of their minds, he already started to let it go. Besides, he was pretty used to people starting shit with him. But once he heard one of the guys start talking about slashing people's tires, the night was beginning to look a lot better.

*exit*