OTA

[jageskro]

It was like an itch you knew you weren't supposed to scratch. A lot of things had become clearer to Jag, about himself, since he'd watched Hex's videos, and somehow, the closer it came to the time Val would be back, the more Jag wanted to give in to his 'old' habits and do something really stupid. Start a bar in a fight with an arsehole or two, and get hurt.

It was as far from healthy as he could get, he realised, and that was why he hadn't started a bar fight in over a month now. He was in a bar right now, having a pint and trying to resist the desire to walk over to the bastards in the booth right behind him. Their racist, homophobic conversation wasn't making it easy on him. He was waiting for the misogyny to make an appearance, really. He'd barely touched his pint in the last ten minutes and was gnawing on his thumb's nail, feet propped on his bar stool, one leg bouncing.

Comments

[sunsongs]

Coby had about an hour before he absolutely had to be at Scandals, but tonight was one of those nights where he wanted a quiet drink some place before he had to be on, and it could be hard to do that in a bar where he was playing. So he stopped off at a bar not too far away for a beer first. He ordered an IPA, and as he waited for it, picked up on the guy next to him's nervous energy. "You all right, dude?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before Coby realized he knew him, and if he'd had any doubts whether he should ask, that's when they disappeared. "It's Jag, right?"

[jageskro]

'Fine,' Jag had been about to reply with a scowl, but at that last bit, he looked at the bloke beside him. Right, Christmas party. The musician. The one who wasn't Willy, anyway. "Yeah," he confirmed, and raked his brain for his name. At least his leg had stopped bouncing. "I'm - sorry, what was your name again? I remember you play Scandals, but..." His memory could be oddly selective.

[sunsongs]

"Coby." He wasn't bothered Jag hadn't remembered his name. He couldn't say he'd have remembered Jag's if it had been something more common like Jeff or Tom, or like Coby's name. He remembered the important shit anyway.

"And yeah, I'm heading over there soon. Wanted a quiet drink first." He glanced behind them at the booth of assholes. "Not sure I'm going to get it, though."

[jageskro]

"Tell me about it," Jag agreed, shooting them an annoyed glance before turning back tp Coby, and his stout. "S'pose this is the universe telling me to go listen to you." He still hadn't.

[sunsongs]

Coby paid for his beer and took a sip before nodding. "Could be. Not like I'm going to try to talk you out of it." But he had wanted a quiet drink, and if he sat here much longer, chances were a punch was going to get thrown eventually. He glanced around the bar, then jerked his chin toward a empty booth much further from the assholes' table.

"You could do me a favor first, though. With two of us, we could grab that booth, actually enjoy our drinks."

[jageskro]

"I don't know," Jag answered, tilting his head to the side with a purse of his lips. "The more time passes, the more I want to go introduce my fist to those fuckers." Not a good idea, and he was aware of that. It didn't make the urge go away.

[sunsongs]

"Yeah, then I'd join you, and then wind up on stage tonight, singing around a split lip or playing with busted knuckles," Coby pointed out, knowing how Jag felt, I thought. "Been there, done that, more times than I like to remember, but not so much recently."

[london_spy]

The barman was a 'friend', and had told Danny he'd kick him a few quid under the table if he'd cover a shift for one of his servers. It wasn't much, but at the moment every penny counted.

He kept his head down the whole time, bringing people drinks, clearing tables, doing his best not to be recognized. His story was long faded from the papers, but in a crowd like this, the last thing he wanted to do was jog someone's memory.

His shift was just ending as he cleared his last table- Only to have some bastard deliberately stick his foot out and trip him. One of the glasses shattered, but Danny was so relieved not to have shed any blood that he wasn't even angry- Just shaken as he started to pick up the broken glass very carefully. All while ignoring the nasty comments coming from the table behind him.

"Sorry," he said, glancing up at the bloke at the bar, who'd already seemed tense and agitated to start with.

[jageskro]

Jag was downright glaring at the bastards when the waiter spoke up, and his look softened as he looked down at him, then moved off his stool to help him out with the glass. "Not on you to apologise," he remarked, picking up the bigger shards of glass first.

And if the table heard that? Good.

[london_spy]

It was kind of the stranger to help, but the fact that they were both touching the glass only made him more anxious. ...It was also the moment the barman noticed what was happening.

"Jesus, Danny, what are you doing?" the barman said, physically pulling Danny away from the broken glass. "You can't do that, it's a health hazard. I run a bloody bar you idiot."

He pushed a wad of cash into Danny's hand, then nudged him toward the door. "You're done for the day, go home.

He turned to Jag next, gingerly taking the glass from him. "Last drink's on the house mate. Don't worry about this."

Danny looked somewhat mortified, and offered the stranger and apologetic look.

[jageskro]

A look which was lost on Jag, since he was frowning at the bartender. "It wasn't his fault."

[london_spy]

"It would be if he cut himself in here," the barman replied with an annoyed frown. "Just stay out of it, alright? I'm comping you your drink, and he's leaving, aren't you Danny?" he added.

[jageskro]

"Not just the patrons who are arseholes here, then," Jag remarked hotly, picking up his coat to get out of there.

[sauntereddownward]

Crowley could feel the energy coming of that one and he smiled, rising from his seat to go get a drink. And if he happened to mess around a bit then all the better.

"You look antsy, dear boy," he said. "Why don't you jst take the initiative and do it?"

His voice was smooth and if it was a little more convincing than usual, well, Crowley had always been known for his powers of persuasion.

[jageskro]

Jag looked over at the bloke - the bloke in sunglasses, and calling him dear boy like he was his lost uncle, what the fuck - and made a face. His word spoke to him, to that side of him that really wanted to go and start a fight, because they were fucking wankers. For a whole ten seconds, he thought that he might just do it, and it was only through great willpower that he managed to resist. For now. "I'm trying to be good." He made another face. "I don't know how well it's going to turn out for me, but..."

[sauntereddownward]

"There's no sense in being a good man if you let evil men have a pass. It's good people doing nothing that let evil spread in the world," he said wisely. Not that he was encouraging anything good. He was all for wrath and violence. Who didn't like provoking a little violence now and then.

[jageskro]

"Don't think I'm one of those good men, so that works out," Jag replied with a doubtful purse of his lips. He certainly wasn't to be much good at fighting evil, and if he ended up going over to start something, given that he was one against three, he was fairly certain he wouldn't teach any of them anything.

[sauntereddownward]

"Then why sit here? You're on edge, full of energy. You could channel that into something worthwhile," Crowley suggested. The bartender came to him and he ordered another pint, then turned to face Jag while he waited. He was dressed in a black suit with black shirt and red tie, his sunglasses on even in the dim light of the pub. His shoes were snakeskin.

[jageskro]

"Yeah?" After taking another drink of beer, Jag tilted his head to the side to watch him, an amused challenge - amused, but lined with a definite need for pain. "And what would that be?"

[harrowgate]

Felix really did not belong in a place like this, and certainly not in his designer suit, pink checked shirt, and silk scarf draped around his neck. He knew he stuck out like a handful of sore thumbs, but clearly, that was his goal. For some time now, he had been seated at the bar, drinking a succession of bourbons with water. Maybe he liked to stand out, but there was no reason to compound his effete appearance with an equally fruity drink.

It wasn't long before Felix had all he could stand of the group at the nearby table. He set down his drink, paid up his tab with a winning smile, and swung down off his stool to stride over to them.

He placed one slender tattooed hand on the table, cocked his hip, and leaned in. "Hello, darlings," Felix purred in his best posh tones. "I couldn't help hearing you all calling for me. The lavatory's just there; who'd like to go first?"

[jageskro]

Jag turned halfway round on his stool to frown over at the table, at the intrusion of that voice. The bloke sounded - and looked - way too posh (in an extravagant way, yeah) for Jag to like, but he did like the spirit of going over and getting nasty with those wankers.

Wankers who were apparently shocked speechless for a few seconds, before one of them - the loudest one - retorted, "Sod off, we're not poofs."

[harrowgate]

"Really?" Felix asked in an entirely feigned shocked tone, making no move away. "For the last twenty minutes it's been nothing but 'faggot' this and that. I thought you were performing a mating call."

[jageskro]

Jag couldn't help but laugh at that, and the loudest of them stood up suddenly, jerking his head in his direction. "You find that funny?"

"It really is," Jag confirmed with another chuckle. "As in, he's right."

[harrowgate]

Felix glanced over his shoulder, straightening, pleased that he had at least one backer in the wings. He wasn't unaware that one of the men had risen, that this situation could quickly grow far more dangerous very soon. The rush vicious delight that Felix experienced while needling ignorant bigots transcended any fight or flight response. Win or lose, he'd provoked a reaction, and that was like a drug to him.

"Thank you," Felix said to the gentleman at the bar, giving him a gracious nod. Then he turned back to the table to explain, "You see, if I sat about loudly tossing 'chav twat' into every sentence I'd expect every one of you fellows to come running."

[jageskro]

"Homophobic arseholes works just as well," Jag chimed in helpfully.

"You wanna go outside?" the leader asked Jag angrily. Apparently focusing on him was easier than dealing with the fabulousness of their original problem.