Judge, Jury and Executioner


brian_icon.gif calvin_icon.gif griffin_icon.gif

hortense_icon.gif joshua_icon.gif yana_icon.gif

Scene Title Judge, Jury and Executioner
Synopsis When a couple of cops get pushy with an evolved teen, retaliation from onlookers is swift. And final.
Date February 21, 2011

Lower East Side

This close to curfew on a Monday night, activity on the sidewalk has petered into a veritable trickle under amber street lamps and low-slung cloud cover. Those few that remain, filtering out've dive bars and the off club like fits and starts at the end of a nice long piss are mostly intent on their own business. It's really only those leaving Tartarus that have cause to rubberneck.

Near an alley across the street, a police cruiser has braked at an odd angle against the curb, red and blue light washing silent across steep bricking and cracked concrete. Both uniformed officers are out of the vehicle — the elder standing with arms akimbo near the open slant of the passenger door. The younger is up ahead a short ways, talking to a young feller and his girl, neither of them old enough to drink. Asking them to come around the back side of the car. Barking at the girl to leave her purse on the hood when she reaches for it. Sneering when she stumbles and her man's eyes flash marble white, a crust of ice creeping all jack-frost from a brush of his hand to the hood in the seconds before the elder officer snaps his nightstick long and black off his belt.

"Hands where I can see them," rapidly escalates into a near simultaneous, "Step away from the car," and "DON'T MOVE."

Which is about the time Calvin waltzes out of Tartarus with a fag in one hand and a lifted shotglass in the other.

"And so then I said, 'What do you mean you don't like bananas?'"

It was gonna be cutting it close, if she didn't leave soon. Hortense wanted out for a night of dancing and otherwise letting loose which had led her and a gaggle of her friends to Tartarus this Presidents day. She has her car, managed to park it two blocks down the street and her keys dangle in her hand as she and two others exit the club behind Calvin and whomever is with him. Hair back and done up, her heels putting her well over six feet and a skirt just a little over indecent in length, she's shoving her arms into her leather jacket and counting on the heater in her car to keep her warm with all the flesh that's exposed.

Hard to imagine that during the day, she's a massage therapist. If some saw her now there'd be Korean jokes. Happy endings murmured about and waggles of brows. Calvin would like be the expected source of such. The cops though, nightstick out and two teenagers about to get in a serious load of trouble has he pointing towards the situation as if to draw her friends attention to it. "There's two idiots"

Griffin isn't actually coming back to work at Tartarus. He's the bouncer there, yes, but he's also a wanted criminal. And the last thing he wants is for Melissa and Nadira to be connected to him in any way. But that doesn't mean he can't keep an eye on the place. He's not exactly on the sidewalks, either. In fact, he's quietly lingering on a nearby rooftop, seated on the ground and leaning against the thick ledge that separates him from what could be a nasty fall.

Green eyes slowly wander down to the police car, Griffin's brows raising. Dumb teenagers doing dumb things like going up against cops because they're too stupid to drink their alcohol at home, like all deliquent teenagers should.

He's doing his own drinking, too, sipping scotch from a flask. He isn't drinking to get drunk, so much as he's drinking just for the taste of the scotch. He personally enjoys the taste. So, he enjoys himself, relaxing up on his rooftop, out of sight from those wandering about below. Digging in his coat, he even goes so far as pulling out a cigarette, lighting it up with his zippo.

It's hilarious. Two people getting arrested for powdered sugar or something when a man on the Federal Most Wanted List stands a block away, watching the whole thing. A steak sandwich held in his hands, with his shoulder leaning into a wall. Taking a bite out of the steak sandwich, he watches the police quietly. A dribble of rancing dripping down his lower lip. Bringing up his free sleeve he goes to scrub at his mouth. Another bite is taken as he chews heavily.

Black beanie pulled over his brow, the gray eyed young man peers down at the police. His eyes wandering across the street to where Calvin steps about. What about bananas. Watching Calvin for a moment, the man takes an instinctive step forward as if to go and greet the man. But he hangs back, the police might have seen his picture or something. Or Calvin might turn him in because Calvin's a dick. But whatever the reason, Brian takes another step backwards. He got his special steak sandwich. Time to go home.

Joshua doesn't waltz. He trudges along gamely, limbs loose and hands lazy tucked into hoodie pockets, the outline of his fists through fabric that might be too thin for the weather if not for a decent metabolism and a few beers coursing their poison in his system. A vaguely shapeless woolen cap drawn down to fit snug around his ears and conforming to mostly shaven skull, and unnecessary sunglasses doing something to disguise his eyes and reflect the little bit of city light that glances off them.

He shadows along not a few feet out the door, ignoring Calvin for the time it takes to share a grin with one of the security men gargoyling the door, an enthusiastic greeting of recognition from maybe some shifts in Queens, a complicated kind of handshake that doesn't stop Joshua from his backpedal away, ending in a point. Later gator.

And back to Calvin's side. "What?"

She isn't feeling very well. It happens from time to time, Yana will occasionally get a headache, and during such times, she can become quite insufferable. This time however, the headache is accompanied with a bit of a disagreeing her delicate stomach had with her meal. She had Christopher stop the vehicle on the side of the road, which is in this part of the neighborhood, so that she could take a small step out for some fresh air. The woman in the fancy black dress stands just outside of the door to her lim, looking a bit green around the gills. A flash of red and blue reflecting off of the various pieces of jewelry she wears, a black lace folding fan wrapped around her wrist, which is currently sprung open so that she can fan herself and take those few deep breaths.

"This will not stand. I've been poisoned I tell you. I believe the chef at that restaurant was specifically targeting me for death." she complains to the over 6 and a half foot tall man with her. Always the dramatic one, over something that is probably just a bit of indigestion. Her vantage point gives her a good view of what is going on, which arouses her curiosity, as soon as she catches her breath a bit.


Mouth slightly open, Calvin stands at the street side with smoke winding lazily away from the end of his cigarette. Forgotten in favor of the spectacle unfolding across the street, where ice has taken to creeping across freshly thawed sidewalk from the kid's running shoes.

"Cut it out!" crosstalk over a more panicky, "I can't!!" and finally, too swift the swing and pop of the nightstick square across the cryokinetic's cheek. He spins on his feet, staggering dizzily off balance and nearly falls on the spot only to be shoved back into the wall by the waiting arms of the balding Officer Balmer, as designated by a slant of red light across his name tag. The girlfriend screams — probably when she sees blood dribbling from her man's nose.

It's a full on fight, now. The kid's larger than he looked to start, rangy 18 year old muscles enough to inspire another strike to the back of his skull after the younger cop goes slip-sliding down onto his ass and briefly out of sight.

Last shot downed, glass dropped with a glittery tinkle, Calvin glances to Josh at his side and steps down off the curb, ginger hair bristled golden orange between lashes of electric blue and magenta. "Excuse me, Officers!" he's already saying. Quite loudly. As necessitated by the fact that he might otherwise be hard to hear while they're busy wrestling with a concussed teenager and a brick wall.

One of her friends is breaking out the latest in smartphones, catching the whole thing on video as most things that are amazing and newsworthy are bound to be done these days. "That is balls" She blonde with Hortense says, snapping her bubblegum as only a jersey girl can - she's got the poof and the long nails to prove it too - but Hortense is slinking forward on her heels, moving closer, hands in the pockets of her jacket.

"Hey! Lay off!" She's not one to necessarily like evolveds, they make her nervous, but it's clear to hording that the teenager isn't really in control of his ability and beating the shit out of him, isn't going to fix that. "Stop wailing on him would you! You're going to kill him, not make him stop Officer"

"Tenny, you shouldn't get involved" Her other friend cautions, sticking close to smartphone and not moving forward. Because everyone knows that those who get involved, get in trouble. But Hortense keeps hobbling across the street in her platform heels. "Hey! Hey!"

Griffin is slurping down some whiskey when he notices the cop using a bit too much brutality on those poor teenagers. Green eyes glances toward Calvin as he calls out to the officers, but Griffin…well, he has a better idea. His eye flash white as vectors unfurl, the man quietly screwing the lid back onto his flask and tucking it back into his pocket.

With the cigarette still resting between his lips, Griffin promptly slingshots off of the building, as fast as his vectors will throw him. He even puffs at his cigarette as he flies through the air like some epic invisible Doctor Octopus, or something to that effect. His target? The police car.

There's a crunch as the man lands, little indentations appearing over the metal skin of the police car. That open door is taken advantage of; the radio is promptly ripped out of the car, sent skidding across the street. Two more vectors are reaching for those guns on the men's hips, while two more guns are pulled from his jacket by those telekinetic hands. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

If there's one way to stop police brutality, it's by waving a much bigger target under their noses.

Brian pauses in his exeunt, half turning as Calvin makes his weird little way over to the police. The sandwich is brought up and another mouthful is taken. But he is given pause at the young man who walks with Calvin. And like that his mouth drops open a big ol piece of steak falling out of the side of his mouth. That guy. Robin. Joshua. It all makes sense. Eyes widening slightly, if he hadn't sworn to stop stalking the AdventureClub and figuring out what they were doing this would be excellent information. Unfortunately his spying days are over.


Wandering forward, Brian's shoulder remains close to the wall. He isn't going to dance and parade in front of the police. But then Griffin is smashing on top of the police car. Brian pauses, letting out a light sigh over his half masticated sandwich. "Really?" He asks, more to himself. "Really, Griffin?" Rolling his eyes, he ducks out of his way into the shadows a little bit more.


And following again, although as opposed to the trailing along leash-like out the door, there is motivation in Joshua's steps. Maybe triggered by glance but otherwise loose, he starts off towards the cops having their scuffle, the flash of blood and the crack of human weight coming to land on the rooftop of the cruiser. His teeth show briefly at the sight of Griffin, which makes Joshua's lope come to a sharp halt of reconsideration, watching the spiral the guns make as they're handled through the air.

Vectored. Whatevs.

He cups his hands around his mouth as he calls out to the cops in turn on the back of Calvin's call: "Nice car." Maybe he'd look good in it, dents and all.

Oh! Oh dear.. Police brutality. Yana recovers from her state in time to become fixated on the escalated situation. With her fan over the lower half of her face, it is difficult to gauge the expression she holds behind it. Both she and Christopher have their eyes locked on the man being assaulted by the officer of the law. "My my, the things you do see on this side of town." she comments to Christopher in a bemused manner. This situation has already gathered quite a crowd, so why not one or two more? Dr. Blite decides to investigate a bit further, taking a few strides in the direction of the action. Just a casual observer, in a fancy dress, that is all. That is until she decides to speak up.

"Is everything alright?" she offers in her two cents, finally pulling the fan away from her face and closing it with a quick slap into her free palm. She paints her neutral, yet curious expression over her lips, and looks between one individual to the other, brow raised. "I couldn't help but take notice that there seems to be quite a bit of—" That would be about when Griffin comes jumping in on cars with his invisible ability of invisible grabby, startling Yana into a sharp gasp, "Heavans!" she cries out, clutching a hand just above her breast, over her heart.

Sparks skid helter skelter after the disembodied radio and the cruiser creaks laboriously under the sudden abuse Griffon's landing on it full force entails, air hissing cold from one of the rear tires such that Calvin's given some pause to echo Joshua's.

But hey, you know.

The more the merrier.

Hortense in her heels given an up and down look not far from his side, Calvin stiffs in a last drag before flicking his smoke after the radio flexing the same hand into a fist. Just.


The black and white police cruiser crumples like a spent bag of Doritos, screeching aluminum and steal warping hot into leather upholstery and something computery that belches acrid smoke black through splintered windows. Presumably with Griffon still on top.

Meanwhile the blondeish cop on the ground is scrambling to get back to his feet despite a grand total of four guns being held over his head, taser fumbled out in sweaty hands and fired prongity prong crackle at Griffon's torso while his charming partner jerks his captive freak audience around as a human shield. "CALL 911!!"

…Is his answer for Yana.

"CALL 911!"

There are guns and guns and there's… a guy on a car hood mocking the cops and another behind her - she turns to look even - Who's cat calling the cops. But then her head swings around at a rate likely to cause whiplash when the cop car is getting a completely new renovation and not for the better.

"Huuu uhhh" Jaw dropped with an almost comical sound of shock coming forth from between two carmine red lips, one eyebrow up and her hands up, as if by this act alone she too could possesses TK and push it all away, Hortense starts to back. That. Thing. Up. and move backwards hopefully out of the street where she's been standing.

"OMG! Shirley! Shirley Call the cops!" You know, other than the two who are there getting their asses potentially handed to them. "Shirley! CALL THEM NOW!" Her skirt rides dangerously high as Hortense then turns away from the scene and skids across the pavement so she can take shelter behind Calvin.

Perhaps Calvin's show of force is a blessing in disguise. As much as Griffin doesn't like that his badass entrance is disrupted by the suddenly crumpling car, it prompts him to move. Grabbing a lamp post, Griffin slingshots up, using the lamp itself to blind the two cops to his presence. He lands atop the roof of the Tartarus, eyes narrowed as he crouches at the edge like some kind of scary, slingshotty Batman. Or something to that effect. That car crumply thing totally wasn't him, and that's not the first time strange things have happened.

Is he more powerful than he realizes?

Remaining are two guns, hovering in the air, each pointed at the men's head. In the meanwhile, the last four vectors are angling down to grab the men by the arms, to tug them away from the poor teens and up against the wall. No using hostages for you, piggies. Time for a taste of your own medicine.

Sounds of calling the cops echo past his ears, and Griffin sighs. "Always the bad guy, aren't I?" Not like that's going to stop him from knocking these two out. No killing today. The man angles glowing eyes down toward Calvin, brows raising. He's seen that guy before.

Peeking out from his little hidey hole, Brian lets out a bedraggled sigh. Why do all of his friends have to be dumb? A light sigh passes out of his teeth as he tosses his steak sandwich over his shoulder. Depressing. The epic sacrifice of his meal is made to attend to the teens that were being police brutality'd. Sticking his hands into his pockets like any casual clubgoer would, Winters makes his way closer to the action. Stepping around Yana, he peers over at Hortense and her gaggle of friends. Stepping over to the cyrokinetic and his girl, he yanks a thumb over his shoulder. "You should probably go." He murmurs gently.

He's then looking to the cops, a sigh dragging out before he looks up at Griffin. His brows lowering as he gives a light sigh. No words to be said right now, just a little 'pls stop' look. He is half turning to face Joshua and Calvin. A little fingerwave given to the latter.


Joshua is moving.

The crumpling car is something of a cue, or at least an adequate distraction for him to get awl up in thurr with a sudden charge with the tenacity of an epic rottweiler off its leash, the heavy thuds of his feet impacting the ground making strange ripple patterns through the asphalt. He bodychecks his way into one of the cops en route for the wall, the nearest, and his hand finds the man's face in a broad-fingered grip that spiders across the man's face, the slopes and plans of cheekbones and forehead.

The underlying structure that sudden shatters beneath his fingers, eyeballs liquifying in little bursts of red and opaque jelly and a strangled scream piercing through the night as the uniformed cop falls back barring any effects of vendors on his person. He doesn't keep his back on the other cop for very long despite the manhandling, sneakers squeaking through the remains of ice on the ground, briefly off-balancing the young man.

All at once, the ice shatters like a broken window, ice shards glittering upwards into dust.

Call 9-1-1? Mm. No, not tonight she is afraid. She has gotten involved in one too many things this month, and her good will towards these particular individuals is just about nil. As the man screams for her to call the emergency authorities, Yana just slowly shakes her head and purses her lip, "I'm afraid I am without the proper telephone at the moment. Sorry." The is just a small smug hint of gratification in her falsehood too. It seems to her that they have their hands full, and she doesn't need to be standing so closely now. So back she goes a few steps, a small retreat while she watches— Oh god.. what.. what just happened?

Yana's expression widens and registers shock with the gruesome display that is performed. She was already a little sick to the stomach, and this just made it worse. A hand quickly goes to her mouth, and Yana takes a few more steps away. Can't get any of that on her, and she doesn't quite want it to happen to her, either. "Dear god.."

His scrubby little head shiny with blood, the cryokinetic tumbles from his captor's grip when the cop is slung back hard against the wall. He lands at Brian's feet, one hand groped instinctively upward in search of help. To stand, to escape.

His girl is there to pick up the slack, tears streaming in quiet panic down her mascara-smeared face while the cruiser behind her moans and screeches shrill under its own mangled weight, one tire lifted gradually clear of the ground. Then two. Three.

The girl manages, maybe with Brian's help, to get her boyfriend up on his feet and moving away without realizing that the warm and damp her heels track through on the way has bits of brain lumped spongy to the sole. She'll figure it out later, when she plays that smudge of periphery movement back before she finally falls asleep.

Further away, Calvin's looped an arm 'round Hortense's waist to stall her fleeing behind him because two is company and the hike of her skirt's caught his eye. He grins down at her while the cruiser lurches up onto the corner of its bumper and flings itself into a spark-encrusted pirouette on its nose to flatten its roof


against the far wall, with only squishily cockroach smeared Officer Bolmer held aloft by Griffin as a buffer.

A shiny black shoe falls first. Plop.

Then the car comes back down, momentum lost in slow motion with a sprinkle of spent glass and a rock of tires busted on their shocks. It lands right side up.

There's a squeak from Hortense, caught up in Calvin's embrace and not opting to remove herself from it in truth, for the moment, as she watches in horror, face following the movement of vehicle to wall and it's human buffer. Hands cover her mouth politely so that her uvulae cannot be seen - not to be mistaken for another body part of close spelling - and eye's deer wide even as her friends are still catch the whole thing on video and the other is bellowing into her cellphone with her jersey accent.

"Oh Em gee no really there's like two cops down, OFFICER DOWN" Shirley is giving the byplay to the 9-1-1 operator on the other line, since Yana can't be bothered to call, or have her companion call. "No really, like this guy just ran right up and he is like jelly and OH MY GOD THE CAR! Mara are you catching this? Are you CATCHING THIS! Lady, lady, this car just flipped over and it just crushed the cop like a bug on a fucking windshield!" She screeches, Hortense just watching in abject horror, her drinks flip flopping in her stomach and Calvin dreads against her cheek.

Shit. Shit. Griffin was just going to knock them out. But no, someone had to go and kill both of them. Probably for the better, anyhow. Griffin would have probably killed them himself. Because, really, it's none of their business to be telling the story about how they nearly got killed by Griffin Mihangle.

That doesn't stop him from suddenly dropping down to the ground, right next to Joshua. A stern look is given to the younger man. "You didn't have to kill them…" He frowns at the mess of blood and gore. "They could have been useful."

Brian's eyes widen as Josha rips out a guys eyes and Calvin smashes another cop with a car. Just when he decided to stop being a spy the Others decided to get crazy for Murdering. His eyes settle on Joshua, as Brian brings his hands up to his face. Mouth opening in a 'what the fuck' pattern. But he doesn't say it yet. He then turns to Calvin. His hands drop as he just stares at the man.

"One of them popped an asshole in the mouth and you killed both of them!" Brian's hand is grasping at the side of his head. "What the fuck?!" He then looks over to Joshua and then to Griffin. Eyes wide and face struck with shock that the racist cops just got brutalized and squished all over the sidewalk. Having helped the people who started this get away, he peers around at Calvin and Joshua. "Jesus." He spits in an epic fashion, badass hands dropping into his cool pockets.

"Useful for what? To smack us freaks in the mouth the next time they're behavin' out of line?" is snarled at stern expression being sent his way, Joshua then narrowing hazel stare towards Brian and his swearing. "Fuckin'— this city has no balls, I swear to god. You think cunts like these won't walk all the fuck over us unless we do something? Because they will." There's disdain in the kick towards a floppy ankle, the guy with his mushed head having no capacity for response.

Hey, handcuffs.

Joshua is quick to close in and snag them for himself, prepared to dig around for effects that might be great to keep for himself. He glances, then, to the lady with her phone — flips the finger, and stands, suddenly quiet and unsure.

Joshua's assessment actually makes Yana smile. "He has a point." she offers up, while keeping her gaze away from the pieces of policeman that litter the ground. "You have the power, they don't. Though quite often they like to think they do, when all they really have is greater numbers. A problem to be sure, though I'm sure that arrangements can be made to tip the scales of that imbalance. Quite honestly, he has performed quite an honorable service here tonight." she gestures to the laid out cop bodies on the ground with a small sweet gesture of her closed fan. "However, I imagine that more will arrive, and not to mention, it is getting quite close to curfew. I don't really want to be around past time. We can only step outside of the rules so much. So—" she raises a brow, offering a smile to Joshua and the others, "Bravo, my good sir, and I bid you all aideu. This really made my evening. So rare to end on such a.. refreshing note." she nods one final time and turns to head back to her car.

"You alright, lovie?" murmered down in a politely disquieted aside to the girl in a skirt he's taken up at his side, Calvin looks just about ready to make more of a move in that area when Brian catches his eye instead. There's vodka on his breath and the same old acrid tang of hot iron sunk warm through the wool of his coat, his pale eyes stained yellow by the city light while he sizes Winters up wordlessly and is sized up himself in turn. No explanation is forthcoming.

That he adjusts his hold on Hortense is only natural now that the immediate danger seems to have passed. That he manages to cop a feel on the way — arguably less so. Maybe it was an accident.

Then he's stepping away ("Nice meeting you,") haughty profile turned aside to follow the line of Joshua's focus after the girl recording everything with her phone. Said phone wastes no time snapping into his waiting palm across the interceding distance like a shot. A hard-eyed glance spent up after Griffin, he tosses the phone over to Josh ("What is this generation's obsession with documenting every little fucking episode?") and tips a cavalier bow off Yana's way in leading their exuent. Stage left. Before the rest of the NYPD arrives.

Griffin narrows his eyes at the man, before…he relaxes, shaking his head slowly. "They could have had wives. Children." The man scowls at Joshua as he loots the handcuffs. He…promptly steals his own pair, which hook themselves to his belt loop of their own accord, the keys slipping into his pocket. "But you were probably right. They would have just gotten worse after this."

He shakes his head slowly. "If they weren't already Humanis First, they were on the fast track to becoming Humanis First. Especially after this." He frowns. "Better that they died." White eyes turn from Joshua toward Calvin, brows raising at the dress-down that the man receives from Brian. He turns, quietly examing the wreckate.

Oh, so that's the source of the extra insanity. It's another telekinetic.

Shaking his head, Griffin throws a wave toward those gathered. A brief glance turns toward Yaha, the man examining her. Cute. He turns back to Joshua, frowning. "I'm out of here." He points to himself, then to Joshua, then to Calvin. "They'll be looking for us."

And with that, Griffin is suddenly slingshotting away, disappearing into the night. No doubt he'll be blamed for the chaos and destruction. Not that he'll be around for the cops to arrive.
You have been applauded.

"I'm fine, Those poor co-" Well, you know, for all the brutality that they were inflicting, this was still overkill, and… there is another guy who is discharging what seems to have been the notion that griffin was responsible for most of the mayhem that Joshua didn't inflict and she's tennis heading it back and forth between Joshua, Calvin, Brian, back and back again till Calvin's disengaging - hey that is my breast - and abandoning her.

Hortense backs up as gracefully as one who is wearing stiletto platforms can back up, attention diverted to Mara when she lets out a outraged squeak when there goes her phone.

Into Calvins hands.



And suddenly she's wanting to retch. He was putting the moves on her and he just.. did that thing with the phone oh dear GOD. "Back in the club, back in club backintheclubbackintheclubbac-" Hortense is suddenly gathering her trio of friends, and the Jersey girls are hightailing it for the club.

Brian watches Calvin for a long moment. Griffin's word vaguely falls on his ears, causing him to turn to face the man. "Yeah there's no fault with that logic. How are you not a fucking psychiatrist too?" Then looking to Joshua, his arms come up as the man walks away from him. "You've got a lot of balls homie. Killing a non evolved guy for punching somebody else. You all are fucking geniuses." Brian extends the label to Yana as well, the only man still standing among the wreckage.

Watching Calvin goes, he eyes what is left of the bodies before turning and starting to walk slowly away from the scene. Idly wishing he had an epic cigarette he could light up like a badass as he walked away like a sort of scary walking batman, his hands are tucked into his pockets. One last glance sent over his shoulder at the two men walking away from their Murder Party like the bar they went to ran out of booze…

"Truce off, bitch."

As easy as defensive anger had been to summon, Joshua grins as bright as a noonday sun at Yana's praise even as ruby droplets spatter up the side of his face from the kill he'd made, getting all square shouldered and soldier postured, stuffing handcuffs into his pocket. "Yeah, fare thee fuckin' well," he calls out to her, jovial and unsarcastic despite cussword punctuation, already drifting off to follow Calvin for out. Response times, they're important — something to learn.

A scowl sent off to Brian's back once he's caught the phone— hey cool a phone, giving it some cursory inspection after making sure he'd shut the device down, could be an easy twenty bucks on a given street corner— but only that, aggravated look up and down as he assesses what threats he might send the man's way. Decides to leer instead towards retreating horde of Jersey girls. "Girlfriends've yours?" he asks his ginger comrade.

A jump in his step as he catches up. Feeling good. He got called sir. He has a good point. A lady~ said so.

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