It doesn't surprise Hank to see Lovebug show up. He was making a lot of noise. Everyone had run out of the bar when the fighting started, and then it was just him and these four bozos making trouble. Since they wanted to get back up and fight, sure, Hank would bite. Worst choice they could have made, but he could use a good warm up. The one in the blue shirt that he had tossed aside a minute ago lets out a grumbled cry as he rushes him from behind, real smart, and Hank doesn't even look over his shoulder, grabbing a bar stool in one hand and swinging it behind him, cracking it over blue's head. Blue collapses, might have a concussion later, but it doesn't seem like he was that sharp to begin with.
The other guys were already out cold. Hank steps over one of them on his way out, grabbing a cherry from the top of someone's abandoned drink. "Go home, Andie." He doesn't mean home, she knows what he means. This, this city, this job. Just, away from him. If Andie sticks around she won't find anything she likes, and he's not ready to call it a night just yet. He's rarely at his apartment anymore, mostly to sleep, which he doesn't do much of. Spends more time out on the streets, and trouble always seems to follow. Guess even after everything, some things stay the same.
Andie. He didn't bother to hide it, no one was conscious to overhear him anyway. And he wasn't talking to Lovebug. Lovebug is sticky, and not good at letting people's business be their own. Andie might, if he's lucky. He was actually having a good night so far, and didn't need a lecture to ruin it. One of the guys groans lightly from where he's collapsed half across a table. Oops. Maybe one's a little conscious. Easy fix - a hand hooks around the back of his shirt collar and after a solid crack against the wood he's golden again. There's probably a billion Andie's in New York anyway, or something. | @strangewonderful