londoncallingrpg

Entry tags:

OTA

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I try not to make a habit of it," Dutch answered, and let a small smile twitch up her lips before taking another drag. "But he was right pissed off, and I like this pub." And, after a beat, she added, as if she'd just come to that conclusion, "And your face."

"What can I say, it's a good face. Nicer when it's not bruised and bleeding, but you can't have everything, right?" he quipped.

"I'm Logan, by the way. I don't think I caught your name."

Dutch smiled slightly again, at the clichéd comeback that came to mind. I don't think I've given it. "I'm Dutch," she replied out loud. "Two streets down, and to your left," she nodded down the street. "It'll be a lot easier starting a bar fight there, if you're still in the mood."

"No, I'm good- I'll buy you a drink though, if you want," he shrugged- And for Logan that was about as close to flirting as he got when he was in one of his moods.

For Dutch, that was still a long way from flirting, which was probably why she agreed. "Why not. Not there, though." And not here, for obvious reasons. She dropped her cigarette butt to the ground and toed it out under her boot. "Come on, then, Logan," she told him, leading the way up the street, towards another edgy pub. Small, dark, and always packed on the weekends. Tonight should be fine, though, especially so early in the week.

Logan followed along, doing his best not to limp or let it show that he was in pain. Honestly, he didn't care where they went as long as he could sit for a bit, and ease the sting of his wounded pride with a few drinks.

"So what's your deal?" he asked her.

"My 'deal'?" Dutch asked, both amused by the question and confused by its vagueness. Maybe it meant something more specific to Americans, but if it did, she had no idea what. She did, however, make sure not to walk too quickly for him. Not pointedly, but as if she were just ambling along on a beautiful night.

"Like, what do you do or whatever?" Logan asked, keeping the question vague deliberately so she could just share what she felt like.

"When I'm not stopping bar fights?" she smirked, hands in the pockets of her coat. "I'm into computers, actually. What do you do when you're not picking bar fights?"

"Get featured on pages like TMZ for things even stupider than starting bar fights- Oh, and sometimes I go to school," he shrugged.

Dutch shot him an amused, clearly disbelieving look. "You're famous?"

"No. My parents are. ...Were. I dunno. Notorious is probably a better word for it," he shrugged.

Notorious was the kind of word that could hint at a lot of different things, and Dutch didn't know what to make of that past tense. She ignored the latter, and chose the worst option - in her opinion - for the former. "One percent?"

"I'm not broke, if that's what you're asking," Logan replied, not eager to offer more than that. "My mom was an actress- then she... She, uh, made a very dramatic exit from the world, if you know what I mean. Dad was an actor, but now he's just an alleged killer, so that's fun."

"No wonder you're looking for someone to beat your face in," Dutch stated, crossing the street towards the pub they were headed for. There was no judgement in her voice; her family history was a lot less fucked up than his sounded like, so she really wasn't in a position to judge. "I'll get the second round," she added, because sharing that kind of fucked up history definitely called for a drink, and she pushed open the door to the pub, holding it open for him to follow her inside.

It was a cosy little place, with a few stalls and some stools along the bar. The walls were plastered with old concert posters, and the music currently playing was some classic hard rock.

Logan followed and sat himself down. It wasn't his scene really, but he didn't care. Most of London wasn't his scene, it seemed like. He'd never felt more out of place in his life.

Taking a moment to order some drinks and some pub food, he waited until they were alone again before starting to chat again.

"So, be honest, how bad does it look?" he asked, pointing at his bruised cheek and slightly swollen lip.

Dutch reached out to turn his face to the light, so she could have a look at that bruise, mostly. "The bruise is still coming out, give it an hour before it's that awful yellow-purple colour. The lip's probably going to feel worse than it looks." Especially whenever he drank any proper liquor.

"Didn't break my nose at least. Hate having my nose broken," he laughed, as if that was funny.

"Yeah, I can't say that I have fond memories," Dutch confirmed. Their drinks were ready, and she stood to go and get them from the bar, exchanging a few words with the barmaid before coming back to Logan. "Here you go," she pushed his towards him, then raised her stout in silent cheers before taking a sip.

"Thanks," Logan replied, nodding and holding his own glass up before drinking deeply.

"God I needed that."

"Clearly," Dutch agreed, and she knew the feeling. It just so happened that she hadn't, today. She was just out for a good time, nothing else. Maybe she'd ring up Jade later. "So what brings you to this side of the pond?"

She'd definitely look into him and his parents later, out of nothing but curiosity. For now, anyway.

"Mostly a desire to be anywhere but California," Logan said honestly.

"New York would've been closer," Dutch remarked. She liked the city, too, for what little time she'd spent in it. She'd felt at home almost immediately, and had been tempted to stay, but London was home.

"I know too many people in New York- Or, too many people know me, anyway," Logan shrugged. "Besides, the point was to be anything but close."

Dutch shrugged. "Every city in that country seems far apart to me," she admitted. "So no one recognises you here, do they?"

Honestly, even now that she knew that he was - notorious, if not famous - his face did not ring a bell.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject