Whiskey and Stitches || Raphael and Noah
There was some sort of commotion up ahead. Noah could hear raised voices shouting and yelling insults. Someone called for another to 'please stop!' and the nurse's frown deepened.
As always, very little thought went into the decision of moving before his feet were carrying him towards the noise and trouble. The stupidly reckless part of him once again taking over as he felt something hot and angry stir in his belly.
When he rounded the corner he found that the immediate danger appeared to be over. Two men were holding back a third - the one who also appeared to be the one throwing insults around like he was going for a world record - and on the ground in front of them was a fourth man with a dark-haired woman crouching next to him. The man on the ground's face was red, not just from anger but from the rivulets of blood gushing down his face. Despite being injured, he was still making a valid attempt to get back to his feet and - if the gurgling words he spat out was anything to go by - continue the fight.
Noah hurried over, rolling up his arms as he went.
"Easy," he told the man and put a hand on his chest, "Your eyebrow is split so let's have a look at that before you start swinging again, shall we?"
Looking up, he gave the woman a nod and a smile.
"It's okay, I'm a nurse. If you want I can take over from here?"