19 Yaris 2718
It was one of those nights and situations where no one knew who threw the first punch, but everyone knew everything went counter clockwise once it did. The shoddy light, shabby decor and even more questionable drinking cups were livened up with swearing, furniture colliding and simply general mayhem as drunkards and dullards went to town against each other and anyone who catches their ire at the time.
For Francis, good handsome Francis who liked to chat up people and quite often opposite sex, it was often a time where he found himself ducking under tables dodging chairs, using one of those goddess forsaken cups as impromptu bludgeons and sparing the world said cups existence, or throwing his fists at some clocker’s face in effort to not have his own face caved in by some jealous prick.
It was funny what trouble a handsome visage could get you into, even funnier were the skills it forced a person to learn to fend off or survive said dangers. As Francis stood in the center he raised a his arm, wrist colliding with his opposite’s own to block his punch’s trajectory as Francis countered with a right hook straight into his foe’s abdomen and knocking the wind out of him.
His opponent, an average looking middle-aged fellow gasped out a curse as he doubled over and Francis couldn’t help but breath in relief that one of his troubles was down for the count before a chair suddenly crashed into his back and knocked the Mugrobi descended male into the ground where he groaned in pain.
Suffice to say he’d literally not saw that coming as he lay on the ground, flipping over he saw a ratty looking fellow looking smug, the smugness quickly wiped away as a large meaty hand grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him into the fray. Slowly but surely and praying to whatever entity was listening, Francis lifted himself from the floor before someone accidentally or perhaps purposely stepped on him in this quarrel.
Eyes frantically darting around, adrenaline working to ignore the ache in his back as he looked for a way out but each path spoke of only wading through the crowds and risking another fight along the way.
He let out a sigh of frustration, running a hand through his hair. On the one hand, it certainly wasn’t a boring night and sometimes Francis appreciated a bit of excitement now and then, helped people get their minds of their troubles. Unfortunately, and this is the other hand, he wasn’t sure he was fond of trading the troubles of the mind for troubles of the body especially since it was only a matter of seconds for someone else to mess with him.
How’d the clockin’ hells this all start anyways?