06-22-2014, 11:42 PM
"Don't mention it."
His tone was dry; he wasn't simply being modest. The entire incident didn't seem to be noteworthy to him. Hood took his beer and left the money on the bar, and kicked aside one of the stools that had been knocked over when he'd planted the greasy bastard face-first into the bar front. Path cleared, he made his way back towards his table, although he did pause long enough for her to catch up first. She probably wasn't going to run into any more trouble in the bar, but more then anything, he wanted to rub in with the rest of the shits in the place that the prettiest girl there was sitting with him.
Maybe one of them had the balls to start something still. Probably not.
Hood probably only had ten, fifteen years on her, tops, but he had had a hard life. He was still handsome, but with a weight of years about him beyond what his actual physical age should have warranted. Refined wrinkles, a near total lack of laugh lines though, weathered face and cold eyes. He wasn't a man of vibrancy and a wide range of emotions, it seemed.
But for all that, he was probably the safest one to be around in the bar. Asides from when she first entered, he hadn't checked her out. Rescuing her had been more of an afterthought than any attempt to play the knight in shining armour.
His booth was still empty when he got back, and he waved for her to slide into the booth first. He'd sit with his back to the wall, facing the room, and seemed to expect the same sentiment out of her, although she was free to sit on the outside of the table, back to the room.
"Rough night kid? Client cross the line?"
His tone was matter-of-fact. She had all the fire and brim-stone of an angry call-girl. They were a ferocious sort when they needed to be, after all.
His tone was dry; he wasn't simply being modest. The entire incident didn't seem to be noteworthy to him. Hood took his beer and left the money on the bar, and kicked aside one of the stools that had been knocked over when he'd planted the greasy bastard face-first into the bar front. Path cleared, he made his way back towards his table, although he did pause long enough for her to catch up first. She probably wasn't going to run into any more trouble in the bar, but more then anything, he wanted to rub in with the rest of the shits in the place that the prettiest girl there was sitting with him.
Maybe one of them had the balls to start something still. Probably not.
Hood probably only had ten, fifteen years on her, tops, but he had had a hard life. He was still handsome, but with a weight of years about him beyond what his actual physical age should have warranted. Refined wrinkles, a near total lack of laugh lines though, weathered face and cold eyes. He wasn't a man of vibrancy and a wide range of emotions, it seemed.
But for all that, he was probably the safest one to be around in the bar. Asides from when she first entered, he hadn't checked her out. Rescuing her had been more of an afterthought than any attempt to play the knight in shining armour.
His booth was still empty when he got back, and he waved for her to slide into the booth first. He'd sit with his back to the wall, facing the room, and seemed to expect the same sentiment out of her, although she was free to sit on the outside of the table, back to the room.
"Rough night kid? Client cross the line?"
His tone was matter-of-fact. She had all the fire and brim-stone of an angry call-girl. They were a ferocious sort when they needed to be, after all.