Beside him, Eliot finally got up. He didn't even seem a bit worried that he was outnumbered 4 to 1, or 8 to 1 if he didn't count Dean beside him, which he really didn't.
In fact, he was grinning to the punks in the same charming way he treated the server to earlier. Only the storm in his eyes were different, they were dark with intent.
"Dare you to say that again," he said, walking up to the group. Most of them were even taller than him.
Beside Dean at the bar, the bar owner was looking worried. "Hey, look, we don't want any trouble in here."
"Didn't hear me? I said, fag—"
One punch and the kid was doubled over clutching at his solar plexus where Eliot knocked the wind out of him. The group behind him took a second to realize what happened, but when they did, they came at in a horde.
And Eliot dealt with the amateurs with the quick precise movements of a skilled fighter. One hit to the area below the neck had one clutching at his cracked collarbone, one elbow to at outstretched arm had broken the limb and the guy wailing holding it.
It was over perhaps faster than it began, with 8 people laid out rolling on the ground clutching at one thing or another, and not even a single glass broken. Some got off easy, like the one who started it who recovered his breath in time to see all his pals stretched out beside him. One of them was even unconscious from when Eliot chopped him to the back of his neck.
"Get outta here," he told the cowering one who started it all. "And take your guy with you."
The bartender, as was the rest of the bar, was watching this with gaped expressions. When he recovered, he looked to Dean, "Wow, you and your buddy's tabs are on me. Wanted to teach that gang a lesson for a long time now."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-03-29 12:56 am (UTC)In fact, he was grinning to the punks in the same charming way he treated the server to earlier. Only the storm in his eyes were different, they were dark with intent.
"Dare you to say that again," he said, walking up to the group. Most of them were even taller than him.
Beside Dean at the bar, the bar owner was looking worried. "Hey, look, we don't want any trouble in here."
"Didn't hear me? I said, fag—"
One punch and the kid was doubled over clutching at his solar plexus where Eliot knocked the wind out of him. The group behind him took a second to realize what happened, but when they did, they came at in a horde.
And Eliot dealt with the amateurs with the quick precise movements of a skilled fighter. One hit to the area below the neck had one clutching at his cracked collarbone, one elbow to at outstretched arm had broken the limb and the guy wailing holding it.
It was over perhaps faster than it began, with 8 people laid out rolling on the ground clutching at one thing or another, and not even a single glass broken. Some got off easy, like the one who started it who recovered his breath in time to see all his pals stretched out beside him. One of them was even unconscious from when Eliot chopped him to the back of his neck.
"Get outta here," he told the cowering one who started it all. "And take your guy with you."
The bartender, as was the rest of the bar, was watching this with gaped expressions. When he recovered, he looked to Dean, "Wow, you and your buddy's tabs are on me. Wanted to teach that gang a lesson for a long time now."