[ John is good at finding those points. He strolls right on by them on the regular, not bothered in the slightest who gets their knickers in a twist as he goes about his day. There's a sharpness in the air as tensions rise and it only serves to rile him further. One shot? He's had a couple, for the record.
If Wrench didn't make it so bloody easy he might not be so keen on it. But the old son wants to prance around all peacock feathers or throw a temper fit and he's more than happy to ramp things up further. If they wanted to avoid an altercation John would've been better off going to some other shop, yet here they are. Couple of bastards posturing for nobody other than themselves.
Nevermind the drab state of things. Nevermind the talk of war on their doorstep. The only thing in between them is hot tempers and to hell with all the rest. The quickness and ferocity of the punch still takes him mildly by surprise. It snaps his head back, jaw shut with a clicking of teeth, pain blossoming and rattling everything white for a second. He hits like a bloody mule.
Going back a step or two, he reaches up for the already throbbing spot, and grins when he tastes blood. ] Oh, there we go, old son. Get it out of your system. Bet that feels all better.
[ There's still that charge in the air. Like static making the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand up before a lightning strike but he swallows it down with a mouthful of blood, tonguing the spot. And while John is a liar and a con man he meant what he told the bloke. First one's free.
He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck as he stands back to his full height, despite the difference between them. Nonplussed, he reaches into his pocket for some paper money to toss on the counter, gesturing at the items. ]
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cw: blood ig
If Wrench didn't make it so bloody easy he might not be so keen on it. But the old son wants to prance around all peacock feathers or throw a temper fit and he's more than happy to ramp things up further. If they wanted to avoid an altercation John would've been better off going to some other shop, yet here they are. Couple of bastards posturing for nobody other than themselves.
Nevermind the drab state of things. Nevermind the talk of war on their doorstep. The only thing in between them is hot tempers and to hell with all the rest. The quickness and ferocity of the punch still takes him mildly by surprise. It snaps his head back, jaw shut with a clicking of teeth, pain blossoming and rattling everything white for a second. He hits like a bloody mule.
Going back a step or two, he reaches up for the already throbbing spot, and grins when he tastes blood. ] Oh, there we go, old son. Get it out of your system. Bet that feels all better.
[ There's still that charge in the air. Like static making the hair on his arms and back of his neck stand up before a lightning strike but he swallows it down with a mouthful of blood, tonguing the spot. And while John is a liar and a con man he meant what he told the bloke. First one's free.
He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck as he stands back to his full height, despite the difference between them. Nonplussed, he reaches into his pocket for some paper money to toss on the counter, gesturing at the items. ]
You got a bag for all that?