OTA

[logan_echolls]

His knuckles connected with skin, and for the first time in days, Logan felt alive.

He honestly couldn't remember what the fight had started over, but it had begun in a bar and spilled out onto the street in a matter of moments. He wasn't winning, Logan was sure of that, but he honestly didn't care. Even as he crashed to the pavement and the other man's boot made contact with his gut, Logan only laughed through the pain.

His lip was bleeding, and his cheek was already bruised- Still, the fight wasn't slowing down at all, and likely wouldn't end until someone stepped in- Or one of them stopped breathing.

Comments

[im_torchwood]

Jack saw the fight and usually he wouldn't get involved but it was clear the young man was getting the absolute piss beaten out of him and if there was one thing Jack couldn't stand it was an unfair fight.

His coat billowed as he sauntered up and he put himself between the winner and the loser.

"All right, that's enough. Go back inside," he said in a most commanding voice of authority. FOr his trouble he got hit square in the face. It rocked him back but not nearly as much as it ought to have. Jack righted himself and took a swing of his own and dropped the man to the ground. His friends picked him up.

"That's enough. Go back inside," Jack said again, wiping the blood from his lip. This time they listened.

Once they were gone he turned to look at the young man who'd taken the worst of it and he paused.

And blinked.

He looked so familiar for some reason.

Jack offered a hand up without a word.

[hardertohide]

The thing about some of the old school punks was that, once they'd drunk enough (and they'd usually drunk more than enough), they tended to forget about limits, boundaries, and the fact that once someone was bloody and on the ground, a fight really ought to stop, no matter what it had been about (she had no clue, in this case). As long as they didn't get up.

Dutch wasn't sure the laughing man on the ground would stay down, so she pulled idly on her cigarette and let Danny get in a few more hits before she stepped forward, out of the circle of bystanders. A single step so Danny would realise she was there, but not turn on her.

"C'mon, Danny," she told him when he looked over at her. "You don't want to kill the kid, do you."

With her intervention, a few of his mates seemed to blink out of their appreciation of the fight and think better of letting him carry on with it, and they were taking him back inside the pub with the promise of more beer. The bystanders lost interest, and she crouched down next to the bloke on the ground, holding out her half-smoked cigarette to him.

"What'd you do to piss him off?" she asked curiously, kohl-lined eyes taking in his sorry state.