Participants:
| Scene Title | A Time for Vices |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sal is having a very bad week. Thankfully, Staten Island has some good samaritans yet. |
| Date | May 31, 2009 |
Shooters Bar and Bistro
The hive of scum and villainy is lively tonight. The owner just got in a shipment of fresh booze, which means there's more of a selection than there normally is. Word's gotten around the Rookery fast, so the place is a lot more packed than it normally would be on a Sunday night.
Sal Silvatti to the world - Salvatore Bianco, by his birth certificate, is bent over a drink at the far end of the bar. There are dark circles under his eyes - so dark, he looks like he's been punched. There's a good three days' worth of stubble on his cheeks and it doesn't look like a comb has touched in hair in the same amount of time. There's also two empty shot glasses not far from the pint. In short, he looks like many of the other patrons there. Except he's a millionaire and the son of the Mayor. He just doesn't look like it right now, in more ways than just a different face.
Richard Cardinal, on the other hand, looks like he fits in… and he does. Wanted burglar, escaped jailbird, terrorist, murderer, and corporate vice president - in order of heinousness - he walks along in from the door, letting it swing closed behind him on bent hinges. He strides along towards the bar, taking an open spot beside where Sal's seated, leaning forward and ordering easily, "Gimme a shot've scotch, man."
Last time she was here, she was with Terry and Murdoch. This time, she's with Veronica. Departing from Len and beelining for Staten, having called up the other woman. Time to re-visit the island. Do some stupid things, like drink in a den of .. hive of? something of villany. That and frankly she wanted the tree lizard soup. With at least three guns concealed on her, she's in staten Island dress though. Just enough to look like she's not a woman to mess with, but nothing that screams FEEEEEEEEEEEb. In after Cardinal she moves, gesturing to a seat at the bar. "There? or booth?"
Veronica too is dressed casually — jeans, boots, everything generic and used looking, though it all fits her well enough. She too carries a few weapons under the scuffed and worn bomber jacket she wears. A night out with Minea sounded fun; the two of them always seem to need a break from the "office," plus there might be some good leads on their various cases, if they can keep their ears open. "Whatever works. Bar's fine, for now. We can grab a booth later maybe," Vee says with a shrug, letting Minea lead them in — Veronica's the novice when it comes to Staten Island, after all.
Sal casts a pair of tired, distant eyes up at his new counter-mate. Cardinal gets a once-over, then he returns to his drink. He swallows a mouthful, then as the bartender comes up to fill the other man's order, he adds a dull, displaced, "Me, too."
Then he's digging into his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. He hasn't smoked since he worked emergency back in his Residency. But this is a time for vices if there ever was one.
The cigarette is held between his lips as he pats down jacket and pockets for a lighter. A mumbled curse pushes between his lips, words not actually formed. There is a brief glance past Cardinal to the two women, but then it's back to the shadow man. "Got a light?" There's a hollow distance to his voice, like he has to force the sound up from his gut and make it language.
It wouldn't be the first soul-dead wreck of a man that Cardinal'd met in this bar. The sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, it tells half a story he's heard before - although the rest of the story would be far more original, were he to hear it. "Sure, man," he says with a hint of sympathy in his tone, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a cheap disposable lighter, offering it over, "There ya go."
"Bar it is." She needs a drink. All these god damned secrets people keep telling her and expectations. They weigh a woman! It's like she's drowning in them these days. Quickly, she reaches over, brushing a finger against Veronica's sleeve and then back up onto the bar. "Barkeep! Two dos equis!" cash slapped down on the bar to prove they can pay. "Shit, he looks like … shit" A jutting of her chin in Sal's direction. Unknown to her that it's someone she knows.
"You and your beer," says Vee with a shake of her head. "Add a chaser of Jose for me," she adds to the tender, with a smirk. "Looks like I felt last week," Veronica adds with a glance down the bar at Sal. She steps up onto her barstool, turning slightly so she can keep most of the establishment in her sight line, her back to one wall, her side against the bar's counter.
If anyone were to hear Sal's story, well, they might pity him. They might call him foolish, naive, dependent or just downright idiotic. Those are all things he's called himself over the space of the last few days. And worse, in the night when he wakes up and remembers what has happened.
"Thanks," he says, with little real thanks in his voice. It takes him a few tries for his thumb to smarten up enough to work the wheel, to purr it around and click the button in what seems to be a feat of coordination in his current state. He takes a long pull from the cigarette, letting a cloud of nicotine inflate his lungs. He tilts his head back and exhales it slowly, like some polluted dragon. He flips the lighter back to Cardinal.
The bartender returns with their shots, then the man goes to serve the pair of women. He looks down the length of it and spends a moment studying Minea. Through the fog of his brain, he can only barely place her. She's a ghost, a figment of his former life. He picks up the shot, and with some effort, gets the golden liquid past his gums to burn a fiery path down his esophagus and land atop the beer in his stomach and nothing else.
The lighter's plucked from the air, and Cardinal tucks it back into the inside of his jacket, turning back to reach for the shot that's just been set down. The tips of his fingers curl about the glass, bringing it up to his lips. A pause, and he tilts it back, eyes closing as he swallows hard, letting it sear its way down into his belly. Thumping the shot glass down, he turns a bit, glancing to the two women that just came in.
Sal isn't recognized, it's not his usual face. Cardinal though, recognized from the last time. There's a jutting of Minea's chin in a hello to Cardinal and a motion to the bartender, More money put down. "Refills for both of them. Whatever they're drinking" Before she looks to Veronica. "Looks probably how i've felt the last few days. I shoulda drug Murdoch down with me again. Poor guy needs out more often. Drinking buddy. Older refined looking gentleman. But, your better than him. I know you'll have my back. How you doing?"
Veronica chuckles. "I don't know him," she says with a shake of her head. "And I'm doing all right. How's your new little friend doing?" she asks, meaning Magnes, but not mentioning names— here is not the place for that. "I'm sure he's a handful." She picks up the beer and takes a long draw from it.
Sal examines the end of his cigarette, watches the ember as it eats away at the paper and tobacco and turns to gray ash. Brilliant colour, then something dull and lifeless. He blows at the end. The ashes scatter and the ember burns brighter. He's thoughtful for a moment, but then thought is drowned with another mouthful of piss-poor beer. He's drank some of the most expensive wine in the world on yachts in the presence of world leaders, dignitaries and celebrities. The life he's chosen has lead to a dive on Staten Island.
He really must be a fucking idiot. But that's what love does. It eats away at good sense. At least when you love a terrorist.
He inhales another slow mouthful of smoke and lets it out slowly. Why did he ever quit? Oh. Right. The cancer. He chuckles to himself and then stares at the shot that appears, courtesy of Minea. It's lifted in a salute her way, then swallowed, joining its friend in the churning mess of his stomach. "If that was a pick-up move, they must be desperate," mumbles Sal to Cardinal with loose humour in his voice.
Oh, that is a familiar face. Cardinal doesn't place her until that gesture of greeting - wasn't she with the cop? He can't remember if they were together, or if she was just trying to get in his pants, or something. Hm. Ah well, no big deal, he's not doing anything illegal at the moment anyway even if she /is/ a cop.
The shot's filled up, and he tips his head in a nod up and over to the pair gratefully, chuckling as he hears Sal's tone. A turn to the depressed man, and he notes wryly, "You look like you could use desperate right now, man. Could be a perfect match."
It has been a long and interesting day for Xiulan. Particularly since she had a very unexpected visitor very early this morning. So it is that her entrance into the bar is pretty much typical, slow steps, mind elsewhere and the path of least resistance taken directly toward the booze. It is as she nears the bar that she finally looks up, brows twitching faintly as she adjusts direction toward Cardinal and slips onto a stool next to him. And, how thoughtful! There is a recently filled shot sitting there waiting for her. Xiulan makes no bones about picking it up and tossing it back, a gusty sigh spilling past her lips as she settles an elbow on the bar and asides wryly to Cardinal. "We have to talk, babe." Cue ominous music?
Not desperate, Minea and Veronica aren't here to pick up anything other than a beer. Who wants to sleep with anything on this Island. Not since it might be employed at the happy dagger. But she's satisfied that they drank it at least. "Should help put him out of his misery a little quicker" She murmurs as she tips back her beer, guzzling a good quarter of it. Off comes her leather jacket, tank top on beneath. She's a lady with tattoos too it seems. Lotus flower on the middle her back, some vines around her one upper arm. She's colorful in her own right. Not something the people at work generally see. "I think he's cluing in. He got a little ass last night I think and drank some alcohol. I think though, I think he's getting it. We'll see. I might as for your help with him"
"Really? He did? I'm shocked. I'd have him pegged as the 40-year-old virgin type," Virginia says with a grin, shaking her head. "Well, good for him, I guess." Her eyes do narrow a touch at Sal's comments. Does she look desperate? She's covered from head to toe, and hardly dressed to compete with the working ladies of the island. She watches Xiulan come in and drink the next shot paid for by Minea. Oh, well. Good thing they weren't trying to pick up the men.
Sal makes a soft sound, one that's vaguely amused. "Hnf. I'm not desperate for anything. If I was desperate, I'd have a purpose." And then a slight bark of off-kilter laughter. He taps the cigarette's ash into an overloaded tray and takes another drag. Doesn't take long to get back into the habit.
The glassy eyes of the drunk man on a stool next to Cardinal regard Xiulan as she approaches. "Guess you're not desperate." Another grin. It's amazing that his lips know how to pull into that configuration. But then, anything is possible with that much booze sloshing around an empty stomach.
He pushes off the bar and swivels his stool around. His attempt to stand begins with a stumble as he misjudges the distance to the floor. He manages to course-correct, but not before knocking over the empty shot glass. The cigarette is barely held between his fingers and threatens to fall to the sticky, dirty floor.
He starts to move in a crooked line towards the men's room, zigging between the press of Staten bodies.
"There's always some spare purpose layin' around in this city, pal, just got to look in the right places," Cardinal opins, watching as the other man sways along in the direction of the men's room from behind darkened shades. A shake of his head, and he turns back just in time for that shot glass to be set down, emptied, "Hey."
A grin's flashed to Xiulan, and he reaches out to give her shoulder a playful push, "That was mine. Thief." Ah, the irony.
Slanting a glance at Sal, Xiulan flashes a smile and wink, her brow slowly creeping it's way up to her hairline as she watches the man get up, nearly fall and making a less graceful course toward the 'john'. "Your friend looks like he's drank enough for all of us," she notes as she slants a glance back at Cardinal's face. Course, she's on the receiving end of a teasing shove and responds with a mild waggle of her brows. "If I run will you try to catch me?" Someone, apparently, is in a jovial mood. "And if not, you should feel free to replace the shot." Pause. "Preferably with two glasses and a bottle." it is in the wake of that that she glances back in Sal's direction and notes a bit more quietly. "He okay?"
"And someones had too much to drink. But yeah, you and lawr, wanna put him through his paces. Thinking he might get something of a kick out of it. With paintball though. Might be good. Make him see the seriousness of it but also make it fun, at the same time? I dunno, might not fly." Xiulan came right up and took the drink. Fabulous. Must be his girlfriend or something, doesn't matter "Damnit, that guy's gonna get raped in the bathroom, five bucks."
"Well, he is kind of pretty, beneath all the scruff," Veronica says, glancing over to watch the stumbling man make his wayinto the bathroom. She looks back at Minea, picking up her shot of tequila and nodding. "That could be. I'm in, if you want help. Law though? Really? Paintgun? He'd get all dirty… Can he handle that?" Veronica asks, amusement lighting her face up at the thought of the persnickety Lawrence with paint all over him. "He doing all right, by the way?" she asks, a little more somber.
Sal manages to make it to the men's room and all its filthy glory. When he exits again a few minutes later, he's in no better shape. In fact, the bit of walking he's done has hastened the march of liquor through his system.
The more he tries not to knock into people, the more he seems to veer towards them. The room is pulsating, the sound of his heartbeat overwhelms his ears. He blinks fiercely and grabs for what he thinks is the wall, but is a man's arm. And the motion disturbs his pint, sloshes amber liquid into the floor.
To Sal, whatever the man has said might as well be in Swahili. To other, less inebriated patrons, it's a flurry of curses and insults. Something like 'clumsy prick' and 'get your fucking hands off me.'
All Sal meets this with is a disjointed laugh and a vague, glassy stare into the other man's face. Then, the man says something like, 'what are you staring at, boy?'
Sal stands there, weaving on his feet. And then, a scoffing sound, a tilted head and he stupidly says, "Your pretty face," and flashes a set of pearly whites.
The fist comes hard and fast, springing to his nose and snapping it in a quick-strike motion.
The pain of that shakes free some of the booze. And then something surges deep inside the pit of his stomach, something beyond the hurt and the loss and the frustration. Anger. Undirected anger. And the thug just gave him a target.
When the man swings again, he manages to duck and slam a fist hard against the guy's gut. Welcome to Staten Island, ladies and gentlemen. For your evening's entertainment…
"I don't think so," Cardinal says in response to the concerned question from Xiulan, with a shrug of one shoulder that's entirely unconcerned. He's got better things to do than worry about the disposition of every depressed drunk or burn-out on Staten Island, after all, and he doesn't have any idea who Sal is. "So what did you…"
Then there's the general crowd noise that always comes when a fight breaks out, and he turns a bit to look over in that direction. "Ah, shit. Duck."
"Here we go…" Everything else Xiulan had been thinking about slips right out of her mind as she turns on the stool and watches the 'encounter' unfold. Course, Cardinal is still talking and Xuilan does spare a moment to glance his profile before noting wryly. "Maggie came by to visit this morning," she affords in casual tones. Course, she's still watching the fight, one brow arching as Sal makes good with a gut punch. "Considering your drinking buddy is ass over tea kettle, this should be a pretty short exchange of blows." Course, she does shift to the edge of her seat, you know, just in case they're are fixing to get involved. "Seems kinda unfair, in the grand scheme of things…"
Well, isn't this lively. "I'm tempted to join in…" Would give her a chance to blow off some steam. Minea sighs, taking another swig of her beer and a glance to Veronica then to the drunkard's 'friends' to see if they're going to go to the rescue. She's also slipping off her stool, running her tongue along the outside of her teeth and sighs. "Been a pretty long time since I've been in a bar fight."
Veronica arches a brow, watching and keeping her back to the bar top so she knows what will come flying her way. "Minea to the rescue? How many bar fights have you gotten into?" she asks with a grin and a bit of respect in her eyes. "I don't know, he seems like he's holding his own. Maybe best not to get involved. You know him at all?" she asks. finally downing the tequila shot she holds in her hand, then biting into the lime slice a moment later.
It's a minor miracle that Sal is ducking the blows that he is. Somehow through the fog of alcohol, muscle memory of Aikido training kicks in. It helps that the other guy's on the sauce too. His first landed punch strikes back at the guy's nose with equal force to the one given and leaves his body open for a heavy punch to the chest.
It feels good, in a sick and twisted way. To be doing something, feeling something besides desperation, even if what he's doing is fucking stupid.
He grabs hold of the other man's collar and shoves him back, hard, over a table. The man goes spilling on the ground, cut by shards of broken pint glasses. Everyone else is getting out of the way, for the most part. This is Staten Island. Bar brawls are normal and the phrase 'take it outside' is a polite suggestion, not an enforced edict.
Once the man is on the ground, he hauls back and swings a kick that would make a quarterback proud, then drops to straddle the man, planting his full and not insignificant weight on the guy's stomach.
And then he starts to punch. And punch. And punch with brutality far beyond that of a simple bar brawl. Pretty soon blood is splashing like smashed ketchup packages and his knuckles are quickly stained red.
This isn't a simple bar brawl. This isn't blowing off steam. This is a man who is starting to crack. And crack this man's skull in the process.
Huh. Not bad for a drunk guy. Cardinal pushes off the stool once the guy's on the ground, though he takes his bloody time doing it, shoulders rolling back in a shrug to re-adjust the fall of his jacket before he starts to move that way, pushing through the crowd, "Alright, alright… break it up…"
Oh, shit, that's a lot of blood. "Uh." Of all the days not to pack a taser. Wait, he doesn't own a taser. Note to self, get a taser from the security guys.
"Okay, that is enough of that." Yeah, Xiulan just doesn't have it in her to sit there and watch as someone gets beaten to death. So she makes a sucky criminal, sue her. So saying, she is off her stool and moving quickly through the crowd in an effort to intervene and, hopefully, keep poor drunk Sal from doing something he'll be likely to regret later. Course, it helps that as she moves, she makes a point use her ability. Fortunately, it isn't flashy or obvious. Unfortunately, for Sal he suddenly finds himself unable to see, his eyes having suddenly gone an opaque shade of bluish black. Sadly, Sal's probably not really aware of the fact that he can't see. Ah, the wonders of alcohol. Whatever the case, Xiulan is doing her darnedest to snag Sal's arms from behind. And, if she manages to do so, one knee'll plant in the small of his back in an effort to both pull him off and keep him from swinging another blow. White hat triad, whodda thunk it? Course, she does have the presence of mind to glance at Cardinal and note, "A little help would be nice." just a thought.
Wow, Sal is really flipping his shit there, isn't he? Leo is subsequently utterly owl-eyed with surprise. All he wanted was a beer, and here people are getting all Malcolm Reynolds about things. Not that flying stuff is really a problem for him - everything flung in his direction just sort of diverts in another, like he came in with his forcefield equipped.
"Hey!" Minea's calling out to Cardinal, taking a few steps closer. "Get your friend under control, before I do," A gesture to the weapon on her hip that can be seen. Taser, and likely government issue. Come on, more than just scum come to this place. But Xiulan is moving in to start the process of removing the two from each. It's a face familiar to Leo from months back at a meeting.
"Goddamn. We should get him on our team," Vee says quietly to Minea, standing, with one knee up on the barstool and the other on tip toes to see over the crowd that of course has gathered around the fight. She watches Minea for any signals to go in - being agents here isn't going to make them any friends, but she doesn't want to see anyone get murdered either. "Pleasant little place this is," she adds wryly.
The fact that Sal suddenly blind doesn't do much to diffuse the situation. But it does get him off the man and let him get away. He struggles against Xiulan's grip, even if it hurts to do so.
One of the buddies of the guy he attacked pulls the guy out of the way. His victim's face is hamburger, or at least it looks that way through the caked blood.
Sal's face isn't much better. His nose is broken and sprayed with blood, his fist bloody and torn. "Get off me!" he barks as he plants his knee on the ground and shoves upwards.
"Hey, I just met the guy," Cardinal calls back sharply to Minea, adding after a heartbeat, "…officer."
Staten Island, barfight, cute chick openly identified as a police officer whether she is or not… that should keep her busy and out of everyone's hair.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm…" He pushes through the circle of people gawking at the increasingly large scuffle on the floor of the bar, then, lunging in when there's an opening to try and grab Sal's arm, swearing, "God-damn it, chill the fuck out you crazy bastard— you're gonna get yourself killed!"
Cowgirl up!
Sal starts bucking and Xiulan responds with wrapping her legs around his waist and holding on for dear life. Hey, the girl haz made skillz, yo. "You calm down and I'll get off," she notes as rides the very drunk, very not so happy Sal. "I'll even buy you a beer. Two beers! Hell, I'll buy you case, but you need to /chill/." And, as an aside? You just can't buy this kind of ride in a dime store anymore.
Cops. Nevermind that Leo once numbered himself among that porcine brotherhood. He freezes, reflexively…and then deliberately swaggers on in. He's got a new face, they can't pin anything to him. And hell, it's Staten, what does it matter? But there's Sal, and he owes him big, so he's hurrying to the doctor's side, noting to Cardinal, "I know this guy, I'll take care of him," And Sal is suddenly held by more than human arms. Not levitated off the floor, but it feels like there's more than one person holding him, even as Leo touches him gently with a hand.
"Bar fights can be fun," she mutters. Officer. That gets a few stares from everyone. probably half of them wondering what else she's packing. Don't worry about her, she's a big girl and looks can be deceiving. "Wish I had the tranqs with me," Murmured under her breath to Veornica before Leo's taking care of it all. You can't really break out of a TK hold can you… "Good then, cause I really don't want to have to taser him. Someone else pick up his dance partner and get him to some medical help. Surely there's that much decency on this place."
"I have a tranq gun," Vee whispers lightly, so that only Minea can hear, "But I don't think pulling it out is going to get me any brownie points. It looks like maybe things are under control." She looks bored, though and tries not to look too cop-like. Not too hard, as she isn't one. She picks up her beer and tosses her lime into it, then takes a long drink. It's her night off. Unless either of the bloodied-up men are on her to-bag list, she's not one to be fussed.
Hilariously, or perhaps painfully, probably the best doctor on Staten Island was the one who just pounded his face in. The blood is wiped away from his victim's face and the damage doesn't seem to be quite as bad. Thank god that Staten Island thugs have thick skulls. That certainly didn't tickle, but it's not likely to be permanent damage.
Like a horse with blinders on, Sal starts to calm the longer his world is in darkness. Adrenaline starts to fade and he starts to shake, then drop. If Leo holds him up telekinetically, he'll just sort of hover, otherwise cowgirl Xiulan gets to drop heavily to the ground with him. He goes limp as a ragdoll, his face contorted and bloody. As fast as the fight came into him, it's gone out.
Oh, thank god, there's someone who knows this adrenaline-fueled lunatic of a … skilled doctor. Ah well, Cardinal doesn't know who he is, saving him the cognitive dissonance that might be caused by that little piece of information. As the man slumps, he releases his arm - not noticing that it hangs in the air a bit - and reaches out to offer a hand to Xiulan to help her up, slanting a look over to Leo, "Good. Get 'im out of here before one of broken-face's pals remembers they're carrying a piece or something…"
The moment that Sal stops fighting, Xiulan relaxes her hold, one foot bracing on the floor as she leans in to whisper very close to his ear. "You promise you'll stay calm and I'll let you see again, alright?" She doesn't have any intention of keeping the man blind, after all. She just aims to keep him calm. Course, since Sal /should/ be collapsing and isn't, Xiu takes Cardinal's offered hand and positions her body to make that as unobvious as she possibly can. Hey, no sense in getting folks talking about more then a bar brawl. Her attention, however, is on whispering in the Doc's ear as quietly and, hopefully, as calmly as she can. "Deal or no deal, babe?"
Oh what the two agents wouldn't give to hear what Xiulan whispers. Instead, Minea just settles back on her stool. They are off duty.
"Right on," says Leo, with remarkable aplomb. "Got 'im." To Xiulan, he says, simply, "Scuse me." He's trying to get Sal's arm over his shoulder for one of those army style carries. "Doc, it's me," he says, quietly. "Leo. Tune in, huh?"
Vee glances at Minea. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? that look clearly says. Xiulan shouldn't have been able to do much to a man in a drunken rage, and then Leonard seems to be able to lift the man so very easily. Still, Minea's the boss tonight, having much more experience in this godforsaken place than Vee does, so she shrugs and sits back on the stool as well. "Interesting place," she adds again, watching Leonard try to bring Sal to.
There's no answer from Sal to Xiulan, but he doesn't tense up again or start to thrash around. Her only answer is laboured breathing through his mouth, seeing that his nose is broken and all. He blinks blue-black eyes, as if the furious motion of blinking would dismiss the pigment change Xiulan has wrought.
He turns his blinded face towards the sound of Leo's voice. The voice that he gave him. He tenses up again and drops back to shove at his shoulder. He stumbles blindly and mutters, "M'fine," though he's clearly anything but. He's bloody and beaten, drunk, depressed and now blind. If only Mayor Bianco could see his golden boy now.
A close of Cardinal's fingers about Xiulan's hand to help her up, his head shaking in a slight warning gesture to the woman. "Alright, alright," his head lifts, looking around the crowd as he barks out, "Nothin' to see here, get the fuck back to drinking, everybody. There's a fuckin' clinic down the road for that… guy, yeah, whatever." He looks back to Sal and Leo, lips pursing as he asks quietly, "You guys need a ride? I can call for a van."
Since the Doc isn't struggling or looking like he's going to burst out in rowdy barfighting wildness again, Xiulan dips her chin in a nod to Leo. Granted, she does take a moment to size the guy up before lightly patting Sal on the arm. "G'luck, Doc," is uttered in quiet tones. Quiet tones that, it should be noted for Sal's benefit, are coupled with the return of his vision and those pretty baby blues going back to thier original shade. She does, however, draw back to tuck herself against Cardinal's side, her chin tilting up as she glances at his face curiously.
Minea look to Vee and shakes her head. They're not working. They're in the middle of a bar and she just had a beer. She's got a lot on her plate and frankly, the pair don't look like they use their abilities in some mean spirited fashion, just to get drunken scum from fighting. Tonight, there is no bagging and tagging. Xiulan or Leo will not be getting matching tattoos.
"Yeah. You're great. Peachy keen," Leo deadpans. "C'mon. We'll get you fixed up." He surveys the doctor for a moment, and then clarifies, "Maybe lobotomized, if you think that might help." The change in his eyes has Leo glancing around, gaze landing on Xiulan, but he doesn't comment. Not right now.
Veronica's lips quirk into a small smirk as she watches the situation settle down. She lifts two fingers to the bartender, for another two beers. Not working tonight is totally and completely fine in her books. "You met Lu yet?" she mutters to Minea. "Why do I get all the obnoxious ones?" she says with a shake of her head.
Even though his eyesight is back, Sal can't really see. The world is still swimming in buckets of alcohol, his head is screaming from the blow to it. He paws out and this time actually does get hold of the wall. He coughs into his hand and the hand comes away dappled in blood. He tries to focus on Cardinal, on Leo, on Xiulan or anyone nearby, but their face comes out a blur, smeared with the slightest motion of his head.
"M'fine," he murmurs again as he tries to put one foot in front of the other and walk in a straight line towards the door. It's not really working. "Fine."
"Uh huh." Cardinal's arm curls itself around Xiulan's waist as she leans in against his side, and he brings his other hand up, lowering his shades to regard Sal for a moment - then giving Leo a serious look, "Van? Could at least get you two the fuck out've the Rookery where there's less people likely to curb stomp your friend here, man."
A hand is tucked into Cardinal's back pocket, one of Xiulan's brows ticking upward as she holds her gaze on Leo for a bit longer. It's Sal's coughing that draws her gaze toward him, the sight of the blood stirring a measure of concern to sparking in her dark eyed gaze. "He should probably see a doctor," she murmurs in a quiet aside to Cardinal.
"I'm going to get him to one," Leo says, staunchly, even as he half-carries, half-drags Sal with him. "Soon's I can. No, we don't need a ride, we'll be cool, honest,"
"Nope, haven't met him. Bring him along when we go play with fido. Bet he'd be a holler. learn to teach the boy mob tactics" Minea points out to the other agent. "You could have law. But I think our OCDs compliment each other," Speaking of OCDs, Minea reaches out to touch Veronica's sleeve again.
The bartender brings the two brunette agents another two Dos Equis, this one without the tequila shot for Veronica, who is likely feeling the warm buzz of the last in her petite frame. "Law… no, I don't think we mesh well at all. He thinks I'm deranged, for one." She grins a bit at the memory. "Lu … I don't think he's nice to anyone. And he's dangerous, but eh. At least I don't have to house break him."
Sal is not eager to lean on Leo, for reasons he can't quite comprehend through the haze of his own fucked up awareness. He does what he can to walk by himself, though it requires a lot of grabbing at walls and chairs like someone trying to skate. He can move under his own power, but without Leo to steer him, he wouldn't go in the right direction. Staten is a strange and dark place, and it seems to be getting to him.
He casts one last look over his shoulder to the bar, at the man whose face he pounded in. It doesn't sink in, what he just did. But it will. When his conscience comes up from under all that alcohol, he'll just have one more thing to feel bad about.
First, do no harm. Unless you get kicked in the gut one too many times.
"A'ight," Cardinal shrugs a bit dismissively as his offer's turned down, turning to wade through the slowly calming mess of the bar-fight's dispersing observers towards the bar again, muttering under his breath, "Not like I have an entire triage camp set up or anything. C'mon, babe, I need a drink. So what did Varlane want?"
"He's gotten himself involved with something that worries me," Xiulan answers as she pads with Cardinal back to the bar. "Said I shouldn't worry, that it was all legal and that he was doing it to protect all his friends." Pausing a beat, she sighs as she shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. "Which, of course, means I should definitely worry and he's probably in way over his head and about to get hurt."
Leo, for his part, has little patience with Sal's pretensions to independence. But he steers him out as quickly and deftly as he can, without too many bruising contacts with the furnishings.
"Nope, at least you're not housebreaking" Vee's got a point. "Let's finish our drinks and see about a bonfire huh?" Spoken low so that some jerks don't get an idea of trying to do some bagging and tagging of themselves.