Defend!!!
While Clan Akkaba’s lair was nothing like he expected, its members were just as sleazy as he’d imagined. He watched several eyeing Lorna as dinner wrapped up, a group of men around his age nudging each other and chuckling at whatever filth they were discussing. Jaw tense, Pietro pushed his plate away from him and drained his cup. He knows Lorna’s eyes are on him, she’s not stupid and she knows exactly what’s going on.
He wished she hadn’t snuck out of the school to follow him here, wished she’d listened when he told her to go home. This was no place for her, and it had nothing to do with her capabilities. She didn’t have to prove her strength to anyone, certainly not to him. Not that she’d ever believe him if he told her that. As he moves to leave the bench they shared and deal with the matter, he feels her hand on his arm grounding him. His eyes find hers and she doesn’t need to speak for him to know what she’s trying to convey.
If he caused a scene, there’d be too much attention on them. Attention they didn’t need.
With a frustrated grunt, he drops back into his seat heavily and nods at her. Still, the leering eyes of the men across the room taunt him. One in particular smirks at Pietro as if he’d followed the silent exchange between him and his sister. The way Pietro digs his feet into the floor to keep himself from dashing over there to choke the life out of the shithead leaves dents in the linoleum. “Lorna,” he says, voice terse and quiet. He turns his head so that their faces are closer to allow her to hear just how serious he is. “You’ll go straight to your room after this, da? Lock the door.”
He watches the mutant who’d smirked at him walk toward their table. Would he be so brave? Pietro wonders if his balls are made of adamantium, didn’t matter he’d still crush them. The other man leans on their table briefly, smiling down at Lorna. “You’re new here, huh? My buddies and I,” he looks over his shoulder and winks at his laughing companions. “we couldn’t help but notice you looked a little bored. If you’d like…” His hand reaches out as if he’s going to touch Lorna’s shoulder or arm but whatever it was aiming for, it never makes it to its destination.
Pietro holds the man’s wrist in his hand, now beside him and between him and Lorna. His voice is low, keeping his eyes on the man’s friends whose bodies have tensed for a fight. Like a reflex, he calculates how quickly he could snap their necks and who would be first in line. “It would be wise,” he says slowly, inches from the other mutant’s ear. “to keep your hands to yourself, understand?”
