fuckin wicked .

     "Really? I hadn’t fucking noticed, Dashiell.” Maybe it’s not the best idea to snap back at her neighbour while there’s a corpse starting decomposition in the alley they’re standing in. But damn it if she’s going to be made to feel bad about not listening to what Dash told her. She’s a grown ass woman, she’ll go where she likes even if it means witnessing the man she has grown so fond of beat the literal living shit out of a guy. Though she doesn’t feel anything for the man, he spiked her drink and if she didn’t have Ben point it out… God knows what this night could’ve turned into. She does however- feel guilty that Dash took the matter into his own hands.

“Lets just get some fucking things clear-” She tries not to look hurt when Dash flinches from her and instead balls her hand up into a fist. “You’re not okay and I am gunna go home- when I know you’ll be coming home too.” Aysel takes a deep breath in and crosses her arms over her chest against the cold air. “If anything comes back to you- and you can’t fucking say no- I’m you alibi. I’m not letting your dumb ass go back to prison.”

                 ‘ then  take  something  seriously  for  once  in  your  goddamn  life ! ’     he  doesn’t  mean  to  snap  like  that ,     but  the  words  are  out  of  his  mouth  before  he  can  stop  them .     there’s  a  million  things  on  his  mind ,    none  of  them  soft  or  kind .    why  is  she  even  still  here ?    why  doesn’t  she  do  the  smart  thing   and  just  run  fucking  screaming ?    he  knows  she  knows  better  than  to  get  caught  up  in  shit  like  this .    

     “I laugh at inappropriate times okay?! I once laughed at a funeral!” She’s not exactly proud of that moment, her brain seems to translate any sad emotions or surprise into laughter. It has gotten her in trouble quite a few times and yet her brain won’t learn to not do it. “My hearing is excellent, I listen to heartbeats and creepy old men flirting with me all day. I just choose not to hear your whining.” Aysel has to think as to where she placed the helmet Dash got her before remembering she placed it on the giraffe statue she has in her bathroom. “Does a bear shit in the woods? I’ll be back in two seconds!” She moves quickly to her apartment, having to balance on the edge of her bathtub to reach the top of the giraffe before returning to Dash with it on. She has added to it, giving herself a helmet Mohawk in bright yellow. “I know- you’re shook at my amazing helmet and no we can’t match it wouldn’t make me look as cool any more.

             ‘ still  a  dick  move , ’    he  comments ,    shaking  his  head  a  bit .   he’s  not  even  gonna  touch  on  the  funeral  matter  ----  half  thinks  she’s  probably  fucking  around ,    anyway .    ‘ i’m  not  fuckin  whining .    you’re  the  one  who  was  whining  about  wanting  me  to  come .  ’   his  raspy  voice  raises  into  a  falsetto  to  mock  her ,  ‘ oh ,    dashiell ,   please  come  with  me ,   i  can’t  live  without  you ,   i  need  you  with  me ! ’  then  he  tenses  slightly ,    fully  anticipating  her  giving  him  a  smack  for  that .     and .....  he  hates  the  little  modification  she’s  made  to  the  helmet .    truly  hates  it .    ‘ jesus  christ .    why .   you  look  like  a  kid  that’s  about  to  take  off  the  training  wheels  for  the  first  time . ’

      “If I cut it you can’t bitch at me for it.” She points a finger at him before grabbing her scissors. Aysel makes sure to pull to fabric in a way that it’s not possible for the scissors to catch Dash’s skin and sets to work. The fabric is soon sliced in two and she grabs some latex gloves to put on before checking Dash’s ribs. “I need you to keep your back as straight as you can and breath evenly while I check your ribs.” She takes her index finger and pointer finger of each hand and presses them into Dash’s sides feeling around in order to find any issues. Brows furrow, concentration set in as her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. “So- there’s definitely a sprain over here but I’ll bandage it up and give you something for the swelling.”

        ‘ if  it  was  my  metallica  shirt ,   we’d  have  an  issue . ’     though  the  term  shirt  can  only  be  used  loosely  for  the  scrap  of  fabric  he  wears  far  too  often .    it  was  cut  into  a  tank  top  many  many  moons  ago ,    and  doesn’t  do  much  to  cover  his  muscled  arms  at  all .    he  falls  silent ,    much  to  no  one’s  surprise ,    and  lets  aysel  do  what  she  needs .  straightening  up ,    deep  breaths  as  his  gaze  settles  on  a  small  dachshund  figurine  on  the  shelf  that  he’d  bought  for  her  a  few  months  after  she  got  monster  truck .   he’s  trying  to  keep  his  gaze  from  wandering  to  her  face ,    the  soft  crease  on  her  forehead  when  she  focuses ,    the  swell  of  her  lower  lip  disappearing  between  her  teeth .    a  low  sound   of  pain  is  pulled  from  his  chest  when  the  injured  rib  is  prodded ,   but  he  recovers  and  rolls  his  shoulders  back  slightly  to  play  it  off .   ‘  okay .  ----   thanks . ’

“arguing’s normal. it’s the loudly in public part that i don’t find to be as normal,” he said. or maybe that was becoming more common and he just didn’t realize it. he wouldn’t want an entire room of people to overhear whatever he and his wife were arguing about but these two clearly didn’t mind it. “maybe they get a rush off of it.” 

     ‘ especially  if  your  person’s  a  little  shit . ’    that  part  is  mostly  mumbled  under  his  breath ,    for  his  own  benefit  rather  than  to  further  the  conversation .    ‘ yeah ,   maybe .   either  way ,    it’s  obnoxious  as  fuck .   i’m  sure  they  could  ----  broadcast  their  shit  on  social  media  instead  of  ruining  everyone’s  fuckin  lunch . ’    so  he  says  like  he’s  not  the  first  person  to  start  a  fight  when  the  opportunity  presents  itself .

“If they go to the bathrooms I give it ten seconds,” he wagered with the blonde. The Double Down wasn’t exactly dirty it just wasn’t sparkling clean. There were plenty of signs in there that read ‘you puke you clean’ and if that didn’t explain the environment inside he didn’t know what else would. Sure drinks were cheap but they certainly weren’t top shelf material, and when a gig was on the place was crowded with drinks being spilled all over the place. "You sticking around for the band tonight? I heard they’re pretty shit.”

          ‘ yeah ,    that  wouldn’t  surprise  me . ’   he  exhales  smoke  through  his  nose  like  a  dragon ,    glancing  over  his  shoulder .    some  posh  girls  just  want  a  walk  on  the  wild  side ,   and  think  the  double  down  is  a  good  place  for  that .    usually ,    it’s  a  little  too  wild  for  them .   ‘ i  don’t  know .   depends  on  when  my .....   neighbor  gets  off  work .    promised  her  we’d  order  take  out  and  watch  whatever  shitty  movie  she  wants .   what  about  you ?  gonna  open  up  the  fuckin  pit  tonight ?  ’

As the black haired male exhaled smoke escaped into the cold New York City air. He was leaning against the wall of his favorite dive-bar the Double Down Saloon. His attention was perked as someone he’d never seen seemed to be heading inside. “You sure you want to go in there?” he asked before returning his lips to his cigarette, his gaze back to the slice of sky between the buildings. He’d done his duty, he’d made them think twice, they could go in if they dared. The crowd inside didn’t take too well to outsiders coming in and thinking the place was anything but itself. The smell of piss in the bathrooms clearly a sign of what level of class lingered in this place. 

               there’s  a  few  people  loitering  outside  the  bar ,   smoking  their  cigarettes  and  talking .    dash  doesn’t  do  much  of  the  talking  part ,    but  does  plenty  of  the  smoking .   it’s  kind  of  amusing ,    watching  the  flighty  tourists  wander  in  then  scurry  right  back  out  when  they  can’t  handle  intensity  that  radiates  from  the  double  down .    usually  dash  just  watches  it  happen  without  saying  anything ,   maybe  snorts  to  himself .     hunter’s  nicer  than  he  is .    when  the  preppy - seeming  tourist  girls  huff  and  walk  into  the  bar  anyway .   ‘  i  give  ‘em  thirty  seconds . ’

     The moment that he opens the door, Imogen takes a quick look at him. “You look like shit.” She concludes before walking to the door and heading straight for the kitchen. Setting the bags of food on the counter, she grabs two plates, knowing the place by heart. “Yelling is easier, also makes sure the words get through that thick skull of yours. I would’ve texted but my hands were pretty full, so yelling it is.”

Handing one plate to Dash, she doesn’t hesitate to open all the containers of food and line them all up on the coffeetable before quickly filling up her own plate. Taking a seat on the floor, she practically inhales the food. “I needed that.” With her intial craving having been fulfilled, she takes a moment to sit back and look over to her brother. “So how come you look like you’ve been hit by a car?”

          ‘ yeah ,    what’s  fucking  new . ’    he  ambles  after  her  to  the  kitchen ,  pouring  himself  a  water  and  a  lemonade  for  imo .    ( he  can’t  stand  the  stuff ,    but  he  keeps  it  around  for  her . )   ‘ waking  up  the  fucking  neighbors  and  shit . ’  but  he’s  fond  anyway ,    sets  their  drinks  down  on  the  coffee  table  and  gracelessly  takes  a  seat  on  his  couch .    

           ‘ jesus ,    imo  . ’    he  watches  her  scarf  the  food  down  like  she  hasn’t  eaten  in  weeks ,    and  concern  raises .   ‘ when’s  the  last  time  you  ate ?   i  know  you’re  busy  at  work  but  you  gotta  eat .    don’t  make  me  come  down  there  and  make  you . ’   though ,   maybe  it’s  not  such  a   bad  idea .    hit  on  the  nurses  and  stuff .    well - off  girls  always  love  a  walk  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  tracks :   which  is  dash .

      “Fine, scum fits better anyway.” Hazel eyes spark with both frustration but also amusement. The two emotions Dash seems to be able to drag out of him in seconds. “Part of my job is making sure previous offenders aren’t digging in the criminal trash again.” The question causes a dark brow to raise, a slight uptick to his lips. “Both of those options- in your dreams, Dashiell.”

           ‘ sure  it  does . ’     tony  really  just  wants  dash  to  lose  his  fucking  mind ,    doesn’t  he ?     he  likes  to  think  he’s  not  a  really  bad  person ,    just  mildly  bad .     but  it’s  hard  to  work  to  be  better  when  everyone  around  expects  the  worst .    might  as  well  live  up  to  it .   ‘  previous  offenders  my  fucking  ass .    you  don’t  have  to  check  up  on  me  and  you  know  it .    you’re  not  my  fucking  PO .   ----   you  sure ,    lombardo ?   cause  we  both  know  what  happened  last  time .    and  that  wasn’t  a  fucking  dream . ’

“Oh nice. I like the Ducati XDiavel myself but I tend to also like the look of the classic harley.” Nick clearly was someone who had some interest in the vehicle like it was anther other, rather than a fanatic who lived and breathed the vehicle. Nick quickly shook his head as Dash got the misunderstanding on his experience. “Oh, no I’ve ridden before but I wouldn’t say I’m that experienced. It’s been some time, and I wouldn’t want to jump into it at the hardest time too, you know?” He explained.

     “Back in the morning? Oh, shut up. I’ll do it now.” She tosses over her shoulder, no heat to her words but an underlining of care. Aysel wasn’t about to send Dash back to his apartment bleeding. Finding a bobble she pulls her hair back and digs out some gloves to then return to Dash. “On the blood stool.” She gently directs him to the stool she has specifically for Dash to sit on. There’s a couple blood stains on it and the fact she can make a gross pun with it only adds to the charm. “So-” She steps back and hums before pulling scissors out of her bag. “We can lift it off you which will hurt like a bitch or I can cut the front?”

             ‘ ‘kay . ’    he  can’t  help  but  feel  stupid  every  time  he  ends  up  on  this  dumb  chair .   stool .    whatever .    feels  like  a  fucking  kid  getting  put  in  time  out  cause  he  shoved  another  kid  down  a  slide  on  the  playground .    he’s  tall  enough  so  his  feet  rest  flat  on  the  floor  when  he  takes  a  seat ,    small  grunt  of  pain  when  he  accidentally  jostles  his  ribs  too  much .    ‘ just  cut  it .    there’s  a  reason  i  wear  shitty  shirts  to  these  things . ’    it’s  a  plain  black  one ,    probably  bought  in  bulk  from  somewhere .   he  doesn’t  mind  taking  the  L   on  it .

jack looked over at the other and then at the couple. “you’d think they would be,” he shrugged. “i can’t imagine arguing like that with my wife in public at all. but i suppose we’re not ones to argue quite like that either,” he shook his head. “don’t they realize that we don’t care about what their issues with each other are?” 

     The moment Aysel saw that half-assed nod she’d be damned if she was going to stay put where Dash wanted her to. If Dash was going to risk his own safety then fuck her own, she needs to know he’ll be okay. Aysel’s breath catches when she’s handed the knife, it has been a while since she held one- back when she was on the streets of Chicago. At his words, Aysel gives her own half-assed nod and slips the knife into the waist band of her skirt. 

     Aysel stands in her designated spot simply to watch Dash move around. Wherever he went next she’d follow. The blade of the knife is almost a calming cold against her hot skin and she crosses her arms keeping her focus on the blonde. It’s like being at the zoo and watching a Jaguar pace back and forth looking at the toddlers banging at the glass like it’s next meal. A lump forms in her throat, fuck, she should’ve just continued to lie, make up another bullshit excuse. Now Dash is looking ready to murder someone and doesn’t give a damn if he comes out of it fine or not. She’s less worried about the spiker and more about Dash.

     The moment a man’s shirt is grabbed, Aysel looks at him. Her throat tightens and she can’t swallow. She takes in every detail of the man that targeted her tonight and there’s a mixture of fear and fury as she watches Dash drag him outside. Aysel decides she’ll count up to a minute and then follow, the seconds in her head ticking by excruciatingly slow. Though wants those seconds come to an end she’s across the room in a heartbeat and throwing the door open. The sight she sees pulls a gasp from her lips, brown eyes widen. The blood doesn’t cause much of a reaction, Aysel is a nurse after all and seen every injury known to man… And more dead bodies than she’d like even outside of her profession. She takes in the man’s face, or what is left of it and forces herself to breath. Dash’s voice causes her to flinch when she first hears it and she shakes her head. “Since when do I do what I’m told?” Her voice is stronger than she expects it to be and she moves forward slowly like Dash is a wild animal that she’s worried will run if she moves too quickly. Ignoring the body, she reaches forward, hand shaking somewhat as she brushes blonde hair of Dash’s forehead and asks the one important question. “Are you okay?”

             nobody’s  gotta  worry  about  dash .    catlike  in  his  nine  lives ,    he  always  bounces  back  with  more  teeth ,    more  claws .   honestly ,   he  doesn’t  even  consider  the  fact  he  might  come  into  harm .    he’s  usually  bigger ,   faster ,   nastier  than  people  around  him .   untouchable .    which  ,    in  this  case ,    is  true .     the  guy  didn’t  even  get  a  fucking  punch  in .    it’d  be  funny  if  it  wasn’t  fucking  terrifying .