Send me ┼ for my muse's reaction to walking in on your muse being attacked
"Ughh...Tangerine?" was a rather bewildered call from one twin to the other, although the tone was distinctly lacking in urgency. This one was a big guy, broad in the shoulders and with a resting poker face paired with strikingly expressive eyes. He was wearing a clashing combination of a shirt and tie and a baggy denim jacket.
"Wha'?" The other one called back.
"There's a guy beatin' up another guy in 'ere."
"THERE'S A GUY BEATIN' UP ANOTHER GUY IN E-"
"Yeah, alright, I heard ya' the first time; I was bein' rhetorical- oh for fuck sake!" The second so-called twin, the one the other had referred to as Tangerine, now came into view. He was quite the contrast to the first man - tall and gangly with animated expressions, dressed in a fitted three-piece suit and a designer pair of Oxford brogues. Yet, in spite of the undoubtedly pricey apparel, there was something very rough about him.
His appearance was followed by a dramatic roll of his eyes immediately after they had met with the sight of the two-man brawl.
"God in Heaven, are we ever gonna get a day off, Lemon?" He sighed and rummaged through the inside pocket of his tailored jacket, from which he pulled a silver cigarette case.
"I thought we 'ad a day off this Thursday?" Lemon responded with a cock of his head - always so literal.
Tangerine ignored him and instead focused in on the two men currently locked in a clumsy tussle.
"Well, then, gentlemen," he said, casually lighting up a cigarette, apparently no more inclined to intervene than his partner was. "Wha's all this 'bout then? Business or pleasure?"
He sighed out a cloud of smoke and made a dismissive shooing gesture at them.
"Look, if ya' don't mind, could ya' break it up an' go kill each other somewhere quieter? Ya' causin' an awful fuckin' row as it is, an' you'd make things a whole lot more complicated for us if we ended with two more bodies on our patch ta' deal with. I mean, who d'ya' think we are, 'ay? Fuckin' cleanup??? We ain't no bloody scullery wenches trundlin' 'round the streets, ringin' a bell an' yellin' 'bring out ya' dead' - d'ya see a fuckin' cart a' corpses behind me, mate?! Fuckin' c'mon now..."
He took another drag, neither of them batting an eye at the brutal assault that was unfolding before their eyes. If anything, it seemed like more of a mild inconvenience to them.
"It'd jus' really fuck up our plans, y'know?"
"Uhhh, ya' got red on you," Lemon added, pointing at one of them, although it wasn't entirely clear which.
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