❝… I don’t mean to sound like an asshole - I will anyway - but what the fuck were you doing, going out there on your own like that?? Without a weapon? Were you drunk?❞  A rigid silence overcame the mood as Michael’s hands worked; wrapping an arm that’d presented a long gash. Maybe from a knife - not that it even mattered. A wound was a wound, & while Michael knew Gavin was stupid, he didn’t think he was this stupid.    ❝What the hell were you expecting? Them to fuckin’ bow at the sight of you, or something?❞   It was expected. Not like this hadn’t happened before. Everyone in the crew had treated themselves like royalty; pampered themselves, expected more of the lowlifes living in Los Santos. It was especially common for Michael to get in street fights - but he’s Michael, & that’s why. Gavin wasn’t supposed to try to fight three people at once, or even approach some dirty alleyway dwellers. It wasn’t like him.    ❝... -Who are the assholes that did it? I’ll fucking kill them.❞

It’s interesting that you mention that because when it started getting marked as I grew older the first thing I thought was “I can’t believe I have Mikey Mouse’s hairline” cacklesBut thank you though weh (paps)