undergrounds | [OPEN] HERE IS SOMETHING YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND:

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They call them pubs here. Trevor dislikes this. He refuses to use their slang, and he has already gotten into a verbal fight with someone over language. Of course, this was all incited by Trevor himself after some hapless bar patron decided to insinuate that "English" was better than "American." Or maybe he wasn't insinuating anything; Trevor just assumed he was. Or maybe the man just politely told Trevor to calm down. Trevor can't remember the reasoning anymore because it was a blur of rage.

He now can be found in the middle of a rant - one in a series of many - shouting out into the dingy pub and attempting to cause another scene, which for some reason hasn't gotten him kicked out yet.

"Lager is a fucking scourge. It's goat piss. It doesn't get the distinction of being bull piss, because that shit is strong. Which one of you pip-pip jerkoffs tried to buy the whole bar pints of lager? Is that how you show your affection, you sadist? I know you're still here! I'm gonna find your presumptuous hide and carve it right off!"

[closed to clara]

There is one ray of light in this shithole. An older woman who seems content to just watch him do his thing. He's caught her looking at him and, fearless, steps right on over and takes a seat right next to her. Leaning on the table, he turns on his "charm", which just consists of him lowering his voice and staring at her with an intensity that'd make most people uncomfortable.

"Now this is a fucking crime. Beautiful girl like yourself all alone, having to buy your own drinks. Here, lemme handle that." He takes out his wallet, picks through it and procures a-- £50 note. God dammit he hates pounds. Forgot he had some of his money converted the other day.

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Yeah, yeah, bar fight to entertain the masses. That's what Trevor was for, anyway.

Loud enough to hear is loud enough to get punched, and that's exactly what Trevor does. He stomps right up to the stranger and decks him in the back of the neck, the force of which in that exact spot knocks him cold. It's a cheap shot but Trevor couldn't give less of a fuck.

"Donkey-punched, you worthless whore." His eyes come to rest on Heiji, considering he's sitting next to him. "-- And what about you, sugar? Wanna get kinky tonight?" Trevor shakes his hand off then balls it again, fully ready for another go.

Wow. Heiji watched his neighbor go down with an expression of mild surprise, then turned his attention to Trevor. After a moment, he smiled in a mildly infuriating manner.

"Not on the first date. Sorry to make ya haul your corset and chains around for nothin'!" In other words, he wasn't really looking for a fight, but he was fine if one found him.

Trevor just stares. Stares and stares at this skinny little fuck who's trying to back-talk him.

"What." A pause.

"What the flying fuck was that. Were you trying to be clever? I'm gonna demand you give it another shot before I roundhouse kick your teeth out for lack of effort." Trevor leans in on the bar, leans uncomfortably close to Heiji.

"Now. Go."

Well, I mean. Technically, Heiji didn't approve of senseless violence? But since it seemed like Trevor was gunning for a fight anyway, what was the harm?

Heiji brought his forehead forward and smashed it into Trevor's. Okay, 'smashed' might not have been the right word, because he was aware that human skulls could be a bit fragile and so he pulled the blow a bit.

This was fun, right? They were having fun.

So, okay. Trevor gets head-butted by this scrawny thing like he thinks he's a goddamn mountain goat. It mostly catches him by surprise; he recoils, but it's not enough to really kill the fight in him. It just kind of pisses him off more.

No idea this guy was magical. Trevor had a bad habit of picking fights with everything and then realizing he'd fucked up when they pulled some cheap trick on him.

"-- That was not a proper answer!" comes the next holler, and Trevor decides to throw the first punch because that's smart.

Heiji caught the punch on the jaw, a bit right of center. A bead of blood dribbled out from the corner of his mouth; he licked at it, but his attention was on Trevor.

"Well, what kinda answer did you wanna hear? Not every day someone calls me sugar." Copperish, that was what his blood tasted like. Though a vampire might say differently.

Okay, that made him feel better. Didn't think this guy would take a punch as well as he did, but hey, maybe a little respect thrown his way for that.

"Oh yeah? Maybe you need to be in a relationship. Get someone to call you sugar all fuckin' day."

He reaches out, aiming to grab Heiji by the shirt and yank him off the stool, throw him to the floor.

Well, I mean. Heiji didn't really want this guy to mess up his shirt. He kind of liked the one he was wearing. So instead he grasped Trevor's wrist and redirected the force of the grab; if Trevor wasn't careful, he could end up on the floor himself.

"Is that an offer? No."

Trevor is absolutely not careful. So he does. End up on the floor, that is. He rolls a little, drunkenly, trying to smash a fist at Heiji or possibly kick him.

"C'mon, beautiful, I can show you a real good time--"

Heiji had backed up to perch on an empty stool -- actually, a couple of them were now empty, as several bar patrons had decided they didn't want to stick around when there was a drunk dude punching other dudes. Trevor's arm caught the legs, toppling it.

Heiji landed on his feet, only to find a burly fellow in a black shirt approaching them and frowning in deeply-felt disapproval at the guy Trevor had decked. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Trevor just blinks at this acrobatic feat. Okay, well, that plan of his also failed. Then someone's coming over to try to ruin their fun yet again.

"Fuck your system!" And Trevor proceeds to scrabble to his feet and football-tackle the hulk of a man, throwing all caution to the wind. The idea this might be another werewolf is somewhere in the back of his head, but he'd feel much worse about bowing out and following the rules than getting his throat ripped out, to be totally honest.

What. Why. The security guard fell backwards and threw out an arm towards to the bar to try and steady himself. He knocked over an abandoned drink, sending the contents spilling out across the counter. And across the end of a cigarette some slob had left unstubbed.

The surface of the bar burst into flames. Now the bar patrons, who before had simply contented themselves with mildly horrified drunken rubbernecking, were beginning to panic. Hopefully the bar owner hadn't been too cheap to make sure his sprinklers were working properly, because that wallpaper looked pretty flammable...

[OPEN] HERE IS SOMETHING YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND:

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