I like to think that Soda and Dally were each others party buddies. Like for real crazy parties. Dally would keep his mouth shut about anything that happened at those parties.
This fic was inspired by @hedwigoprah's post about Emmrich Volkarian having broken his nose at least once.
Word Count: 1785. Also on AO3
Post Veilguard, Malcolm makes visit to southern Thedas to see some old friends with his loving husband Emmrich in tow. And there's scuffle at the bar, because it's Rook.
The Wicked Lily seemed to be cleaner than the Hanged Man had ever been. According to Aveline’s letter it had occasionally served the heirs of Starhaven, so Malcolm, better known to the world as Rook, wasn’t entirely surprised. This place was no Cobbled Swan, though. With that thought, Malcolm had to consider how much he’d changed in the past sixteen years as he paid the bartender and carried two mugs of mead to the table currently occupied by his husband.
Emmrich smiled at Rook as the latter settled next to him and set their drinks down. “Thank you, darling.” The Necromancer let his hand brush lightly over Rook’s before picking up his mug and taking a light sip. He paused to consider the flavor, noting it was sweeter than the wine he usually preferred. Rook had suggested drinking something out of a mug would attract less attention here than a wine glass. The decision to travel south for this visit had been difficult enough for Rook, and if drinking an overly sweet drink helped his beloved husband, he would do so.
“Did your friends mention when they would arrive?” Emmrich inquired as they sat watching the patrons.
“Soon enough,” Rook replied. “Probably another quarter hour or so. I preferred to get here early to get a scope of the place first.” He took a deep drink of the mead. “Not too bad,” he noted. “Sweeter than what we usually drink.”
Emmrich smiled fondly. “I made that observation myself. You usually prefer ale, if I recall.”
Rook snorted. “I used to drink the piss that the Hanged Man served as ale. I can stomach just about anything.”
“I’ve little doubt of that, Rook,” Emmrich replied with some amusement. “So we are meeting with your friend Viscountess Aveline Vallen and her husband Donnic, yes?”
“Aye.” Rook sighed. “And possibly his highness.”
Prince Sebastian Vael had offered to house Rook and Emmrich during their stay in Starkhaven, but given the last time Rook had seen Sebastian the man was threatening Anders and to rally an army to attack Kirkwall, Rook had politely declined. He might be in the Prince’s city, but he’d rather not sleep in the same building as the man.
“Mm,” Emmrich made a conciliatory sound, well aware of his husband’s wariness towards the Prince of Starkhaven.
As they sat observing the patrons, Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he noticed a man watching one of the servers lecherously. The woman finished serving another table and had to pass the man’s table to return to the bar. Rook’s mouth formed a thin line as the man reached out and copped a feel. The waitress glared, yelling at the man and slapping his hand away.
Rook had already anticipated the rude patron’s next actions, though, and was on his feet and grabbing the patron’s arm before he could slap the waitress as he intended. “You earned that slap, Ser. I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself next time.”
The rude patron was already clearly drunk, and he sneered at Rook. “And who’r you?”
Rook was dressed in Rivani style clothing, not sure what kind of reaction his normal Tevine style would have elicited in the Free Marches. He arched a brow at the man, but he was also watching the man’s two friends out of the corner of his eye. He’d seen the type so many times before, and knew at least one of them would try and intervene. “Someone who has a better sense of manners than you do.”
Emmrich sighed as he watched the scene unfold before him from their table. Malcolm was quicker to violence than Emmrich, and he could sense the fight brewing. When the rude patron’s friend stood and attempted to take a swing at his husband, however, Emmrich would not stand for it. He rose to his feet and walked towards them.
Rook’s reflexes were good, and he dodged the man’s first punch. Of course the rude patron used the opportunity to yank his arm out of Rook’s grasp and take a punch at him. The rude patron found himself suddenly shoved forward by the tall, lanky form of Emmrich Volkarian.
“It would be best if you kept your hands off him,” Emmrich informed the man imperiously. That, of course enraged the rude patron’s second who took a shot at Emmrich.
It wasn’t much of a fight since the three men were drunk and Emmrich and Rook had a great deal of experience fighting together. As Rook dropped the rude patron, Emmrich delivered a swift kidney punch to the first friend then a bony knee to the head. The last of the three had the unfortunate luck to hit Emmrich in the nose just as the necromancer felled his friend. The third got a hard punch to the jaw for his offense, sending him down for the count.
The barkeep sighed as he regarded the three men who were slumped on the floor. At least two of them were unconscious, the third dazed, and Rook was fussing over Emmrich, holding a handkerchief to the taller man’s nose, absolute fury in his eyes that anyone had dared break his husband’s nose.
Of course this was the moment that Aveline Vallen and her husband Donnic happened into the Wicked Lily. She took one look at Rook fussing over Emmrich, who was trying to insist that he would be fine, and the three men on the floor, and gave one long, suffering sigh.
“You never change, do you, Malcolm?” she asked as she stepped over one of the unconscious men. She used the name Rook had chosen for himself. She’d known him longer than anyone else alive, and she knew exactly why he’d taken a different name when he’d traveled north.
Rook turned towards Aveline, then grinned ruefully. “No, I suppose I don’t.”
“Ah, Viscountess!” the barkeep cried as he realized who had entered his bar, showing Aveline had been here before.
Aveline waved the man off. “Don’t worry, Brion, my friend and I here will get these three out of your bar.”
“Ah, my thanks,” the barkeep murmured.
“Go on and help, darling, I’ll return to our table,” Emmrich told Rook lightly and waved his husband away. The necromancer shook his head as his eyes slowly stopped watering and returned to the table he and Rook had claimed earlier. He waited until he was back at the table and everyone was watching Aveline and Rook before healing his nose.
Aveline, Donnic, and Rook made relatively quick work out of dragging the three men outside and leaving them leaned up against the tavern wall before they returned to the tavern. The barkeep had drinks waiting for Aveline and Donnic, and Rook wondered just how many times Aveline had been here before.
The Viscountess of Kirkwall gave Emmrich a speculative look as she noticed his now healed nose and took a seat across from him. Donnic took the seat across from Rook as the rogue reclaimed his chair beside Emmrich.
“Now, darling, why don’t you introduce me to your friends?” Emmrich suggested politely. He took Malcolm’s hand in his own as he said it, and answered Aveline’s speculative look with a raised eyebrow of his own.
“Yes, dear,” Rook responded automatically. “This is Viscountess Aveline Vallen of Kirkwall and her husband Guardsman Donnic Hendyr. Aveline and Donnic, this is my husband, Professor Emmrich Volkarian of the Mourn Watch.”
“You didn’t think to invite us to the wedding?” Aveline asked with a totally straight face. Donnic snorted,
“We do mean to hold a reception at some point, Viscountess Vallen,” Emmrich informed her with an amused smile. “The wedding itself took place at the Divine’s Manor in the middle of the Siege of Minrathous.”
“Just Aveline, Professor,” the Viscountess advised him.
At this Donnic outright laughed. “Malcolm, you got married in the middle of the siege of a city?” He shook his head. “That really shouldn’t surprise me, should it?”
“Should I mention the ceremony was performed by the Black Divine and witnessed by the new Archon of Tevinter?” Rook asked in a light tone.
“Just Aveline, Professor,” the Viscountess advised him. He lifted both eyebrows. “JusAs for the wedding, impressive. Dare I ask who else we might end up meeting at the reception when you eventually hold it? Where would you hold it anyway?”
“I believe Dorian would like to hold it in the Archon’s palace,” Emmrich noted. “Though Lucanis has offered Villa Dellamorte as well.”
Aveline’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Dellamorte. I know that name. First Talon of the Antvian Crows?”
“Another friend of ours who helped us defeat the Evanuris and the Blight,” Rook shrugged. “I went north to try and escape notoriety.” He sighed then, and Emmrich squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Then Varric asked for my help tracking Solas.”
“And you could never say no to Varric,” Aveline smiled sadly. “Though to be honest, I don’t know if any of us really could. He did ask me to look after the city when he left, and” she gestured to herself.
“You ended up becoming Viscountess,” Rook nodded. “And I hear the remaining nobles elected you officially to the position so you’re not just acting Viscountess now.”
Aveline’s expression turned serious then. “How have you been, Malcolm, really? After Varric and Bethany..”
Rook glanced at Emmrich, who was looking at him with absolute confidence and love. He lifted Emmrich’s hand and kissed it lightly. “It has been difficult at times. But I have Emmrich. I have the Shadow Dragons, Isabela, and the rest of my friends.”
“You have us as well,” Aveline reminded him. “Next time, don’t go so long without seeing us.”
Rook smiled ruefully. “I’ll try. There’s still a lot of cleanup left in Minrathous and Treviso.”
Aveline grimaced briefly. “I can relate to that with rebuilding Kirkwall.” She tilted her head. “You know Sebastian wants to see you.”
Malcolm frowned. “Is he still making noise about annexing Kirkwall?”
Aveline snorted. “I think he’s learned better than to try that again. I’ve also informed him even if I knew where Anders was, I wouldn’t tell him.” She shook her head. “I still don’t approve of what Anders did, but..”
“But he was a friend for a long time,” Rook nodded. “Alright, I’ll meet with Sebastian, if you’re there for it.”
“If it will keep the two of you brawling, fine,” Aveline replied dryly.
“Now,” Donnic leaned forward. “What I want to hear about is how you ended up fighting the Sixth Blight and defeating two ancient elven gods.”
Rook shook his head with a chuckle and said, “Well, as Varric would have put it, it began with a seedy bar and a missing contact…”
Warnings: Phoenix is put into an uncomfortable and unwanted position at the bar so please be wary if anything like that sounds triggering to you.
It all happens so quickly. One minute Phoenix is heading over to Penny to get a round of drinks at the bar and the next second she is being pushed up against the panel-sided wall by a drunk man who's hands find the swell of her ass like they have a homing beacon. Before she can even react he is there, in her space and getting closer, face showcasing a smugness in the way he leers confidently down at her. She's been hit on before of course, and usually reacts better, but something about it happening at the Hard Deck of all places, an establishment that has become like a second home for all the Daggers, puts Natasha in such shock that she can only stare back at the man unmoving.
"Well aren’t you a sight” the man speaks; his breath hot on her ear as he somehow seems to come even closer into her personal space. Natasha can’t contain her shiver, her unease palpable as her mind screams at her to push him off and get out of there and yet her body stays put. It’s not like she’s drunk; Phoenix was the last of the Daggers to arrive and hadn’t even managed to get a drink yet but somehow she is as frozen as a deer in headlights as this stranger gives her ass another squeeze with a grin.
Her lack of fight emboldens the drunken man. Perhaps he is mistaking it for her being interested although from the way he has her virtually trapped against the far wall of the bar, Natasha has a feeling he is the type of predator that enjoys making his prey feel ensnared. She raises a hand and tries to push back, finding enough of herself to recognize she needs out of this situation immediately, but the man bats her attempts at escape away with a chuckle. “If you want to get handsy baby, I suggest we go some place a little more private.”
“Let me go” it’s the first Natasha has spoken and she would be embarrassed by the lack of power in her voice if she wasn’t so freaked out by the whole situation. The man shakes his head with a condescending look, almost as though he finds the female aviator adorable. “Oh sweetie, don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya-“
“I said-“ her voice raises as she pushes against the man’s chest again to try and find a path to escape, “let me go.”
“But we are having so much fun” one more squeeze to her butt and then the man is moving to cradle her face, framing the stands of hair that fall over her face. Natasha opted to wear civilian clothes with her hair down today, a decision she regrets as the man in front of her continues to show her no respect. She knows this sort of thing wouldn’t happen if she was in uniform, remembering all the times she’s been called a frigid stick up the ass when she told men no in her khakis. Channeling that power, that strength that she possess when she wears her Lieutenant bars and soon to be Lieutenant Commander if Maverick is right about the ceremony at the end of the month, Natasha gives another push, harder to the point the man actually stumbles a step. He isn’t deterred, merely smiling as he shifts a lock of her hair behind her ear and dares to kiss the spot of skin he removed it from. “Beautiful and a little feisty, my favorite combination-“
“Then you’ll love me” a voice announces and it would be comical how fast the drunk man’s head snaps up at the sound if the whole circumstances wasn’t so scary. Phoenix turns as well, finally feeling a moment of calm as she notices Hangman of all people have come over, his eyes assessing the situation quickly and picking up on her unease. He’s wearing his khakis’ as usual, one of the few Daggers to still dress in regulation despite being on their mandated month of leave. The military Ken doll look works on him though, usually combined with his infuriating smirk and winking sea green eyes. That’s not who stands in front of Phoenix right now though, the flirty and playful Jake gone, replaced with the stone cold killer that Nat only sees on missions. Tonight, Hangman looks livid, lips thin and eyes narrowed as he stares at the man holding Natasha hostage with a glare that would make smarter men run for the hills. The drunk doesn’t seem fazed though, or perhaps he has a death wish, because instead of backing off the man just scoffs Seresin’s way, “Find your own bitch” he warns, sparing Jake no more as he pushes back into Natasha’s body, a bulge in his pants hitting her hip and making this state of affairs a hell of a lot more real.
The pressure only last a second before the drunken man is ripped away from Phoenix and sent careening to the ground the other way. Before the female aviator can even process what is happening, Jake is in front of her, the expression on his face concerned though his eyes still look murderous. “Are you alright?” he asks immediately, his gaze scanning her for injuries while his hands hover without touching. Natasha knows she owes Jake some kind of thank you for saving her but something about Hangman being the one to see her so vulnerable and scared makes Phoenix raise her defenses, the defenses she should have had up from the beginning so she could have fought off the strange man herself. With embarrassment crippling her, she tries to roll her eyes, "I didn't need your help" she comments quickly, hurrying to hide the fluster off her face from the speed of the assault she just endured.
Jake barely blinks at her attitude, eyes still staring, still assessing, "But are you o-“ he’s cut off when suddenly a bottle breaks over his head, sending Hangman stumbling down to one knee from the force of the blow as glass rains all around them. Nat looks up to see her predator coming back, the other half of the broken bottle in his shaking hands, “you’re mine” he states, anger now in his tone from this delay in his conquest. He moves to take another step, but Hangman is up to the task, lunging up and tackling the man away from Phoenix once more.
The altercation has gained the whole bars attention at this point. The music of the piano cut away as everything descends into chaos. Natasha can see Jake land a punch before he is flipped over and lost in the movement of bodies converging on the two fighting men.
Phoenix is yanked immediately away from the wall and the fighting by Payback, who as the tallest of the group is able to spot her quickly as the other Daggers join the fight to back up Seresin. He deposits her over to Halo and Bob, a move that normally would anger Natasha for being ‘handled’ but she is still so shocked by the turn of events that she allows her friends to all but cocoon her in their safety. Pulled over to the side and out of the scuffle, Phoenix is able to watch as the men of her squadron rip the drunken man away from their teammate and throw him towards a corner booth. The man is bleeding from his nose and a split lip, and yet still he tries to fight his way away. Luckily the Daggers seem too formidable for him to overcome and they manage to box him in to the cushion, an image so similar to what the man did to her that Phoenix has to look away. She hears vaguely as Penny yells the police are on their way but Natasha’s attention soon becomes fixated on her savior. Jake is getting clear of the melee, Javy helping him over to a barstool, as blood covers the left side of his head and continues to trickle. Before she even thinks about it, Nat is moving, startling Bob and Callie with how quickly she is heading towards the bar top.
Just as she arrives Rooster is coming over too, handing Jake a towel to hold pressure as Javy runs to get ice. She watches Jake wince the minute the fabric hits his cut, the white of the cotton turning red quickly like it’s already done Seresin’s hair and skin. Natasha isn’t squeamish but the image is more than off-putting especially because it is her fault that the man is hurt anyway. Jake rubs his other hand along his jaw, showcasing the beginning of a bruise no doubt from a punch in the brawl.
Beside the injured aviator, Rooster lets out a long breath, “Penny is asking for an ambulance, just sit tight man-“
“Not needed” Jake moves to shake his head, and then as though thinking better of it, refrains. “I’m fine” though the way he teeters even while seated negates his entire argument. Bradshaw opens his mouth to argue but Nat beats him to it.
“Jake-“ Phoenix manages, because calling him Bagman right now feels wrong, “Oh god Jake-“ before she can say more, both men turn to look at her, wearing identical looks of concerns.
“Nat you alright?” Bradley asks at the same moment that Jake tries to stand and ask the same thing. Rooster pushes him back towards the barstool with barely any pressure, before turning to the female pilot again, “did he hurt you?” the mustached man asks.
“No, I’m fine. But, Jake he- God, I’m so sorry-“
“None of this is your fault Phoenix” Hangman answers, earning a look of approval from Bradley for not allowing Natasha to even try to feel any guilt for the night’s events.
“But- but your head-“
“A cheap shot, it’s nothing” though they can all see the wince when Jake tries to move the towel off. Bradley stands closer, looking over the top of Jake’s head, and giving a long whistle, “I think you’re going to need stitches Seresin” he shares gravely.
“I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch that is ruining all your clothes right now” Bradley points out, emphasizing the now bloody collar of Jake’s khaki’s. It’s said with exasperation and concern, both Bradshaw and Seresin embracing the new level of friendship they had managed to reach after the success of the mission.
“Head wounds bleed a lot” the blonde reasons dismissively, “I’m good.”
“Yeah too good to be true right?”
Before Jake can reply to Bradshaw with his normal quips, Penny arrives, motherly concern on full display as she shuffles Jake towards the office where she keeps her first aid kit. Javy follows the pair, the four shots the man already had during the night making him more of a hindrance than a help, but still they manage. With Hangman gone, Natasha feels cold, not liking the man being out of her sight especially with him being so hurt because of her. As though he can read her mind, Bradley moves closer to Phoenix’s side, not touching her but providing comfort by making sure to block her from the view of her assaulter and the view of Jake’s blood on the floor.
Bob arrives with a glass of water, kind enough not to comment when Natasha’s hands shake when she grips it. Her WSO knows her better at this point than to ask her if she is okay, instead offering her a kind voice, “do you need anything?” he asks.
She shakes her head, “I’m good” she manages, naturally thinking of Jake with that choice of words and cursing herself when her lip wobbles with emotions. Bob, sensing all, places a gentle hand on her forearm “the minute he saw that man get in your space he was off” the bespectacled man supplies.
“What?”
“Hangman, I don’t think I ever seen him so worried. He didn’t even wait for Rooster or Coyote, he just barged on over to get to you.”
“Well you know how he likes to play savior” she murmurs though she hates herself for even saying those words out loud.
Bob eyes her for a moment, reading her mind like he always seems able to do, before shaking his head. “You know better than that” he speaks sadly, disappointment evident. “When I first met you all I thought you both were-“ he stops, pausing to follow Nat’s eyes that can’t seem to help but follow to the back room that Jake has left to go to. “You should talk to him. He- He’s not quite what I thought” Bob decides to share, squeezing his pilot’s arm one last time before giving her a moment.
Phoenix lets out a shaky breath. Its information she can’t process right now, not with the smells of the drunken man’s cologne and Hangman’s blood still under her nose. She wishes she could dismiss Bob’s observation as being misinterpreted but Natasha knows it’s not fair to Bob or Jake. In truth, she’s known Jake Seresin for a decade and though the man has been a thorn in her side, he’s also always been an ally. He’s pushed her harder than any other pilot or teacher ever has, and never looked down on her for being a woman like some of the other men has. In all honesty, if the turf war between him and Bradshaw hadn’t forced Natasha to pick a side, Phoenix knows Jake would be one of her closest friends, maybe even more at this point. They always had a good relationship, a give and take that kept things interesting and fun. She also isn’t blind; able to admit that Jake looks as good as he claims. Could it be that Jake feels the same way? Bob seems to imply as much, and the man’s deductions have been nothing but right since the day she met her WSO in the bar before the mission.
Natasha’s eyes turn back to the office door at the end of the hallway. The door is still closed and Nat knows that somewhere inside Jake is probably still bleeding because of her; hurting because of her. She wants to get to him, to thank him, to apologize, to hold his hand every time he wants to wince from the pain she has caused him. In the span of a few minutes Phoenix realizes that she cares for Jake Seresin, in ways that disguised itself as friendship and camaraderie but feels so much more now. She takes a few steps forward, ready to throw caution to the wind and just be there for the man, when the door flies open and a frantic Coyote runs out. His hands are red with Jake’s blood and the fear in his eyes are enough to almost stop Nat’s heart right there. “SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE” he screams, shocking the room silent, “NOW!”
I caved and wrote this in like 45 minutes and didn’t read it over so it might have mistakes lol 😂 enjoy ig?
Okay in Frank’s defence, he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way last night just to police who Mel spoke to. It had started when he noticed she had been gone from the table for a while and nobody could tell him where she’d gone. It had been Abbot who shrugged and muttered something about getting another drink but he was too busy sucking face with Samira to really sound as if this was true.
He found her by the bar after asking some strangers on the dance floor if they had seen a girl with a braid and glasses and they pointed him towards the bar where she was talking to this guy who looked a lot older. He never judged her for her taste in men but he also knew a fake laugh when he saw it and right now, she was doing it, he was sure. He felt a flare of jealousy as her hand reached out to barely touch his chest, the man beaming down at her as he leant towards her and was saying something to make her blush. What was he saying that was so funny? Why was he making her blush? Frank was funny, he could make comments to make her cheeks flush
Before he realised what he was doing, he saw Mel’s head lift up to meet his gaze and he gave one questioning glance before looking to the man, “hey man, you lost?” He heard a small intake of breath from Mel’s direction and okay, in all honesty he could’ve been more polite but this dude was pissing him off by being too close and for all he knew, Mel wasn’t liking it.
“Frank it’s fine,” He hears her say, her hand curled around the soda he presumed she had ordered, “this is Jordan, he works in the X-ray department and recognised me.”
Frank looked the man- Jordan- up and down before looking to Mel, “you sure you’re okay? You’re doing that fake smile thing for when you’re uncomfortable,” okay maybe it wasn’t what he saw but nothing like a little white lie, maybe she hadn’t noticed herself doing it
“Hey man let’s not do this hm?” Jordan butted in, rude. “We were just making conversation.” His hand came to clap him on the shoulder and Frank quickly slapped it away, making Jordan’s smile fall and his face turn to stone, “dude seriously?”
“Frank please let’s not do this,” she pleads, looking behind them to see if any of their colleagues had noticed, “you’re drunk.”
He didn’t think that was true, he’s only had 2 drinks…or maybe 3 but who knows? It had been a shitty shift at work and it was his first drink since the goddam divorce. “I’m not drunk Melissa, I’m just looking out for you and i don’t think you should be talking to this-this dimwit.”
He saw her shake her head, eyes closing as did so. Jordan wasn’t so nice anymore though, sizing him up as he stood (embarrassingly) taller and his hands curled into fists.
“You wanna say that again?” Jordan challenged, making Frank stand up straight and he felt a flurry of pride in his chest. Success! He managed to show Mel who this guy really was and maybe, just maybe she’ll follow him back to the table but before he could suggest it he felt a burning hot pain in his jaw and a yell.
“Oh my god Frank!” Mel- he’d come to realise once he was upright again and holding his jaw- gasped. “What the hell Jordan?” He knew she was mad just by the fact that he’d never even heard those swear words (were they even considered swear words? He’d never know) come out of her mouth but he quickly took his stance again and swung his fist.
It wasn’t his proudest moment, especially retaliating to a dick who couldn’t just walk away but he supposed he could’ve done the same. But Mel
“Okay Mike Tyson, split it up.” Abbot’s calm voice was heard, coming between them before another punch could be thrown and he saw Samira with Mel, Whitaker nearby asking for some water “or something at least, the poor girl is fighting for her life here man?!”
Frank found himself breathing hard, his hand going back to his jaw and noticing the cuts on his fist. He had done that just by one punch? His eyes travelled up and met Jordan, who looked just about how Frank felt but god, the already forming bruise where he had got him was blooming around his cheekbone and it was wrong but he felt that little bit of pride.
“Let’s all go outside yeah? Before security comes and hauls us out.” Jack was always the voice of reason it seemed, pushing at his shoulder to stumble outside as Samira and Whitaker stayed with Mel and Jordan was forced to join the boys outside
“You done protecting your little girlfriend?” Jordan sneered, spitting blood mixed with saliva onto the sidewalk gross dude
“Jordan-“ Abbot warned but it was too late, Frank was on him and from there he blacked out.
-
“I can’t believe you’d actually do something like that Frank! Do you know how many cases we get at The Pitt from bar fights? People end up with serious injuries.” Ah yes, he had almost become one of those statistics before the cops had shown up
“In my defence Samira i wasn’t even in the fight” Abbot spoke up, stood next to him in the holding cell but a quick glare from the girl shut him down quick
“You’re lucky we’re here at all,” Samira joined in, “we were gonna come as soon as you were thrown in but we figured we’d let you-“ she pointedly glares at Frank and okay- she had a point “sober up first.”
“Alright, alright lesson learnt, happy now?” Jack responds, holding his hands up, “can we go now? It smells like pee and i’m free sure i saw a dead rat in the toilet and this time it wasn’t Whitaker.”
Frank wrinkled his nose, he really didn’t need to know that
Your character has an incredible level of self restraint. They can take as many jabs/jokes at their expense that anyone can throw at them regardless of their intent. They never budge or get riled up - maybe they’re able to throw back some light jokes if the situation calls for it, or maybe they just use the jabs as motivation to get the job done sooner. They’re unflappable; they simply do not care what others think of them.
So imagine the caretakers' shock when they get a call from the hospital from your character. Maybe they’re very casual and calm about the situation; a little bruised (or maybe worse off) but the caretaker is worried nonetheless. When a bar fight is mentioned, their worry turns to confusion. The caretaker knows for a fact your character would never instigate a fight, neither would they join one… right?
Well, as it turns out your character has great restraint, until someone makes a terrible joke at the caretakers expense.
Personally I believe Price would let you fight a little. At least let you get a few good punches in before he wraps his arms around your shoulders and starts pulling you away.
“Alright that’s enough of that dear. You’ve made your point.”
Will probably chastise you a little later as he patches you up about controlling your temper
But is also proud that his training with you is sticking and you can hold your own in a fight.
Soap 🧼-
Will 100% let you fight your own battles and is cheering you on as you kick ass
“Hey man aren’t you going to stop them?” Soap-“ Are you nuts!? Look at em’ go! KICK THEIR ARSE, BABY!”
Would probably have a betting ring going as you fought.
Is so proud of you after it’s over. Kisses you so passionately and is kinda turned on by watching you kick ass.
Gaz 🇬🇧-
Oh this sweet boy is trying to stop it before it even gets that far. He’s already stepping between you and the other person.
“ Trust me mate, you REALLY don’t want to do this”
He isn’t scared that you’ll GET hurt he’s scared that you’ll maybe take it a bit to far and get them banned from your favorite pub
Is fighting right along with you if it kicks off. Not because you can’t handle yourself, but because you’re a team and teams stick together.
Ghost 👻-
Not even phased when he hears the punch. Just tosses back his drink and he is right there with you
“Nobody fights alone, yeah?”
Literally a tag team “free bird” choreographed type fight. Like omg you two are a deadly whirlwind of fists. It’d be beautiful if it wasn’t so scary.
Walking out of the pub side-by-side after taking out like 15 people. That’s the 3rd pub this month you are banned for life from but who cares. You can drink at home.
Alejandro💃🏻-
Another boy who hears the punch and just casually watches from near by, enjoying the show
“Oi, you gonna stop ‘em?” Literally laughs in their face. “ Hermano, I don’t feel like losing an eye tonight.”
Steps in as soon as you break a bottle. Slaps the bottle out of your hand, tosses you over their shoulder and walks out of the bar.
Smack you on the ass as you try and get free. “ That’s enough out of you gato montés”
Graves 🤠-
Is already throwing the first punch in your fight. Nobody talks to his S/O like that and keeps their teeth
Southern gentleman pride dictates he must beat that person to a bloody pulp. The fact you are helping him do it is just a bonus.
Will make sure they apologized to you before he knocks them unconscious. Not like you can understand what they said they are so messed up but it’s the principle.
Has never been more in love with you than in this very moment. “Darlin’ you are so sexy when you are mad… let’s get out of here.”
Rodolfo 🇲🇽-
Sees where this is heading and is trying to stop it before it starts. It’s been a long day can’t they just have a nice night out
Starts pulling you away and then hears the person say something under their breath about him. You freeze and he lets out a deep sigh “So close”
You are throwing punches and kicks even as he is pulling you off the person. You are locked on and ready to kill.
Eventually drags you away and chastises you a little for starting a dumb fight, but it warms his heart that you are so willing and ready to fight for him.
—@—@—@—@—@—@—
Aw man that was fun lol I’ll have to think of more of these things.
As much as I want season 2 to start off with some sort if angsty Jaskier monolouging about the mountain scene I really want it to open up like this:
The first episode literally straight up opens up with Jaskier just absolutely yeeting chairs at his opponents (he's in the middle of a bar fight). The camera follows the action for awhile, a few comedic one liners happen (its Jaskier, of course they'll be comedic one liners). If the writers really want to butter my biscuit they'll have Madeleine Hyland playing Priscilla, and have her fighting with Jaskier to a TAD song going feral in the background.
The fight continues for like, the first five-six minutes of the episode and right before the screen cuts to the witcher logo the camera zooms/focuses on Joey Batey with a cheeky little grin and he breaks the fourth wall and says something along the lines of, "Hi. You're probably very confused right now. Let me explain."
And the screen cuts to the Witcher logo thus, starting off season 2.
