06-16-2014, 09:10 PM
Whatever it was the wanna-be preacher was up to, it got Hood's hackles up in a moment. Hood knew himself well, knew the difference between the rush of energy that came with an adrenaline surge, or with a good night's rest, or an invigorating romp in the sack with a pleasant distraction. Whatever was going on with Jensen was none of those things.
Of course, just yanking his arm away would alert Jensen that Hood knew something was up. He knew a thing or two about the unnatural things that haunted the world; he'd met more then a few of them since he met the Atharim.
Hood met the man's gaze with a darkening scowl. His gaze intensified as Jensen's magics played their games on him, and his hand was calmly jerked free of the man's grasp. There was an overwhelming urge to flip the table and deck the bastard, but he kept that urge carefully in check. The bar was the type that didn't ask questions, but it was also the type that didn't like trouble.
He couldn't be sure what the man had done; Hood's chest no longer hurt, where that cockbag in the hallway had gotten a lucky shot into Hood's body armour. What gnawing exhaustion he had felt, kept carefully at bay at the edges of his mind, seemed to be gone. A faint pang of hunger.
He recovered quickly; there seemed no ill affects of whatever Jensen had done. He nonchalantly rubbed his hand after recovering it from Jensen and glanced back at Charlene, "Soft hands on this one. You'd like him. Be a nice change from those douche meat-heads you like so much."
Charlene laughed again, once more holding her hand to her mouth as she did and cast Jensen another smokey look, "I promise I'll be gentle, if you will."
Hood chuckled and glanced at Connor as the man moved to leave, and he pulled a card from his wallet. The card was for a gym and MMA club, one that Hood and Charlene frequented. "You fucking suck with a pistol, buddy. But you want to throw a punch, check this club out."
He put another of the same cards in front of Jensen. "Doubt you can afford my hourly rates, preacher. You may not want to hurt anybody, but knowing how to take a man's gun away wouldn't hurt. 'course, you get yourself in any more trouble in Zamoskvorechye district, maybe I'd be willing to lend a hand."
And of course the only way they could get ahold of him then would be to start visiting that gym. Which would come with some expensive monthly dues.
Of course, just yanking his arm away would alert Jensen that Hood knew something was up. He knew a thing or two about the unnatural things that haunted the world; he'd met more then a few of them since he met the Atharim.
Hood met the man's gaze with a darkening scowl. His gaze intensified as Jensen's magics played their games on him, and his hand was calmly jerked free of the man's grasp. There was an overwhelming urge to flip the table and deck the bastard, but he kept that urge carefully in check. The bar was the type that didn't ask questions, but it was also the type that didn't like trouble.
He couldn't be sure what the man had done; Hood's chest no longer hurt, where that cockbag in the hallway had gotten a lucky shot into Hood's body armour. What gnawing exhaustion he had felt, kept carefully at bay at the edges of his mind, seemed to be gone. A faint pang of hunger.
He recovered quickly; there seemed no ill affects of whatever Jensen had done. He nonchalantly rubbed his hand after recovering it from Jensen and glanced back at Charlene, "Soft hands on this one. You'd like him. Be a nice change from those douche meat-heads you like so much."
Charlene laughed again, once more holding her hand to her mouth as she did and cast Jensen another smokey look, "I promise I'll be gentle, if you will."
Hood chuckled and glanced at Connor as the man moved to leave, and he pulled a card from his wallet. The card was for a gym and MMA club, one that Hood and Charlene frequented. "You fucking suck with a pistol, buddy. But you want to throw a punch, check this club out."
He put another of the same cards in front of Jensen. "Doubt you can afford my hourly rates, preacher. You may not want to hurt anybody, but knowing how to take a man's gun away wouldn't hurt. 'course, you get yourself in any more trouble in Zamoskvorechye district, maybe I'd be willing to lend a hand."
And of course the only way they could get ahold of him then would be to start visiting that gym. Which would come with some expensive monthly dues.