When the Men Come Back [Liam]

[Leeroy Atherton]

Country: Burnham-on-Sea, Somerset, England
Current Time: 21:30
Weather Conditions: A cool, cloudy night.

~ | O | | O | ~

The bar was not a large bar, but that just made it easier for Leeroy to patrol through. It also meant that any drunkard who tried to escape any scene requiring intervention of the coppers had less space to escape the door supervisor, a double-edged sword that Leeroy always tried to use to her advantage. In particular, she always had to watch out for the largest tables at the back, in and around the bottom-left corner; the door to the back was right beside them, and a prime first means of escape for anybody. However, such incidents were rare, for the folk of Burnham-on-Sea were good people, and Monty had many friends in the community. Anyone who had stepped out of line before had quickly learned Leeroy was their worst enemy in such a situation, and rarely slipped up afterward.

But tonight was different. Tired, alcohol-hungry and still with a bit of fight left in them, a large group of soldiers had come to the Traveller's Place Inn, and were drinking the night away in the bar area. Already, the evening had proved eventful; two Americans had tried to pick a fight with one of the British soldiers there, and Leeroy had promptly kicked the former out. Then, a soldier passed out from drinking too much, and the doctors had to be called in. Next, two of the newer waitresses had been harassed to tears, and sent home early while Leeroy rallied the hardier waiters, keeping every inexperienced staff member in the kitchen to avoid conflict. And then, another argument had broken out, between a barkeep and too-drunk Tommy, so Leeroy had dragged the guilty soldier outside. Finally, to top it all off, there had been an argument at the two back tables between the Americans and the British again. Leeroy had defused the situation by the skin of her teeth, and there was an unsettling air about the bar, cigarette smoke heavy in the air and the place too loud for her liking.

Half-wishing she could drag half the rowdy crowd out to the sea side and throw them in, Leeroy walked up the row of medium-sized tables in the room's middle, enough to seat three people each. A joyous tavern song had begun, and the men were thumping their glasses on the tables loudly as they bellowed out the words. The woman sighed quietly to herself - why couldn't the lads stay in Highbridge, where the bloody train station was? Why did they have to come to little old Burnham-on-Sea? There was nothing special about the place, save the extensive mudflats that were such a hazard for boats, and the remarkable views of Wales across the Bristol Channel. But Leeroy doubted any of the men were there for that; she felt that they were just looking for a secluded place to find trouble. She found it was an irksome habit of many Gorgio, or non-Roma, especially the soldier folk.

Glancing over at the four tables against the southern wall, big enough only to seat two, Leeroy squinted her eyes. It seemed to be the calmest part of the bar, and upon walking over there, her suspicions were confirmed. How long would it last, though, with the six-man tables filled with drunken idiots? She was thankful the two other veteran door supervisors, Aaron and Lucas, were there that night. Each was around six feet in height, with burly muscles and a mean stinkeye, and Lucas had served a short stint in the Great War as well. He was especially useful, knowing the mindset of the soldiers like the back of his hand, and had often taken Leeroy aside to inform her of the situation that night. It was also him who had recommended that one of the kitchen-workers watch the phones, in case something nasty broke loose, and one of the patrons tried to make it worse. The Roma could only pray that would not happen that night; the hunting knives hidden beneath her skirt had not been used in a while, and Leeroy did not want to have to resort to them if things got out of hand.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

The clacking of boots echoed eerily down a winding alley, with the cobblestones shimmering brightly under the full lit moon soaring through the night sky. It was too quiet, no German junker-aircrafts buzzing overhead, nor did the distant pops echo across the landscape, flaring glows a thousand times brighter than any star that littered the sky - no. England was as ease tonight, Britain was silent from Nazi threat, strange enough, Britain seemed scared of it’s self? Locked doors, boarded windows and even kettles were plucked from the stove before they began to whistle. Perhaps these folk had grown used to the war? Lights out, curtains draped. The wardens had taught these commoners well. Too well.

“Enarff’ creepy, ain’t it Liam?” Thomas Riley whispered, as if he were worried to break the silence, the elegance of peace. The crooked Captain could only grin, his wry smile forming between the lips, with a slight slant to his head soon following. “Naa… I like it” Liam responded in a soft tone, but not a whisper. “If you listen carefully, I mean, real carefully. It’s deafening Riley” Liam spoke again within his soft tone, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Thomas Riley grinned, the silence was deafening, in-fact, it was most probably the loudest thing he ever heard.

Liam popped a button undone upon his field tunic, the common karki tint of a Tommy’s uniform. “Right lads, remember who you’re with. No more addressing me as Liam until we’re away from the busy-bodies, we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention tonight… Do we?” Captain Brentwood foretold his companions, whom gave the casual nod and began to throw their tunic-coats on. It’d been a long walk and the men one by one stripped their bodies from the itchy tunics the more they began to sweat; apart from Liam. Ironically, Liam was as cool as cucumber, yet he was the one setting the pace. It was the small things like these, that set Liam aside. He was something else, entirely…

As four men wandered into the town, the deafening noise of silence soon drowned out, replaced by talking, laughter and clattering of glasses within the short distance. It was here that Thomas Riley began to laugh a little randomly to himself, before clarifying what he found quite amusing. “Christ, it just got quiet” he spoke aloud, which was quite ironic as the noise emitting from the local focus-point was quite disturbing? Liam smirked, feeling his body beat into the direction of the only area of life within the town they’d witnessed so far. He was drawn in, almost like a rabid animal caught on the sent of blood, his impulses pushed him forwards, egged him on. They were like a hungry pack, merely descending from the darkness onto their prey, they strove for trouble, something that could only be sought where life laid.

Pushing in through the doors, Captain Brentwood stepped inwards boldly, followed by three bulky Sergeants - all men wore their military uniforms and corresponding ranks, attempting to fit the code of a good soldier dressed to the hilt by the nines. It was their sheep’s clothing. A few cascading eyes into their direction was met by a soulless stare from all the men, Liam’s brown eyes slowly trailing over each and every head within his line of sight, before resting upon the bar. “Oi Oi! Who called the Gestapo!?” a rowdy British soldier cried from amongst the burly crowd, causing the rafters to tremble with laughter as half the unfazed occupants understood the joke. Captain Brentwood smirked, slowly drifting into the rowdy male’s direction, stopping a mere few foot away from the man’s place. “Name?” he ordered, almost coldly, but straight to the point. “Bugger off, you old fart…”[/I] the man snapped back, his flat nose and wide face insinuating he was trouble already. Perhaps a boxer? Or just a motley thug who’d been thumped on the nose too many times.

Julian White stepped forwards, as if to protect Liam and teach the man a lesson, but Liam’s hand outstretched quickly to stop the Sergeant in his tracks. Liam’s face nothing but a cool expression, as he smiled at Julian. Looking back to the man who sat at his table, accompanied with several rough looking men, Liam nodded and merely said; “I remember a face, but no-one else will by the end of tonight” with that, Liam turned and strove to the bar swiftly, clearly threatening the male that it wasn’t over, but as Liam and his companions departed, he couldn’t help but drift his eyes over a young woman, who was clearly observing the tables. Liam’s bold eyes stared in mid-pace, looking straight at her, perhaps noticing what her role was immediately or maybe her uncommon beauty allured a killer’s instinct? Without a smile, wink or any real expression, Liam’s eyes cut away as his body reached the bar. Tonight would be a night to remember.

OOC: NPCs in the thread.

- NPC: SGT. Daniel W. Alexander
- NPC: SGT. Thomas B. Riley
- NPC: SGT. Julian P. White

[Leeroy Atherton]

More men came in - four of them, one dressed in the clothes of a soldier, the others in indeterminate garb. Leeroy scowled slightly at the thickness of the cigarette smoke - could someone not intervene and make some of the buffoons go outside? There were children staying upstairs, if she remembered correctly! It was an an inn, after all!

The Romanichal smartly pivoted on her heel, then began to stride over to Lucas. Her ears caught the demand for a name by the new soldier, and she ignored him, moving around the medium-sized tables to get to the door out back. But as she did so, something caught her eye; the new soldier that had come in was staring at her, expressionless. Whether it was because he was sizing her up, or intending to catch her attention for other reasons, she did not know. Her eyes narrowed, her face donned and a scowl, and she glared a warning.

'Ee'm bizt watchin' yerzelf, lad. Thiz bar bizt my bar.

She gave him a nod, as if to say, "Remember that." Leeroy's pace quickened, and she found herself by Lucas in an instant, standing near the back door. She tapped him on the shoulder, and the man looked at his co-worker, leaning down.

"Yez?"

"Some o' theze ladz bizt bezt gettin too bad with the zmoke. I be appreciatin' iv 'ee can be ezcortin' zome o' 'em out."

"Will do," replied Lucas. He went into the middle of the room, and yelled over the din, "All right, 'ee heavy-zmokin' ladz be bezt movin' out back! Thiz be an inn, not a zmoke'ouse!"

"And what makesssss you...HIC! Think we'rem goiiiiiing tooooo...HIC! Be doin'...doin' thaaat?" asked a drunk soldier, face red as a cherry and swaying back and forth. He had a rather stupid grin on his face, but seconds later, it was replaced with shock, for Leeroy had stomped over and grabbed him off his seat. To help move his sorry frame off the chair, the woman kicked it out from under him, the man landing on the ground with a grunt. Men around her laughed and jeered as she dragged the soldier over to the side door, one that led out to the street, and promptly yanked it open. Grabbing the back of his shirt, she gave an almighty grunt, and the soldier yelped as he was tossed out into the street. He was too drunk to catch himself, and face-planted into the cobblestones.

"Ztupid little baztard! Don't bizt comin' back 'til 'ee learn yer mannerz!" Leeroy snapped, then whirled around, the door slamming behind her. There was a great, "Oh ho!" that rose from the crowd, the rest of the drunk lot snickering and laughing, the woman marching stiffly back to the tables she had been patrolling earlier. She could hear some sighs around her, and those who still had their wits about them began to rise from their chairs.

"All right, all right, lass, we'll go..." grumbled one of the soldiers. He, and about five other men, shuffle-swayed out back to enjoy their tobacco. It wasn't much, but at least it would mean less smoke that Leeroy's lungs, the lungs of the others, and the lungs of the upstairs' guests would have to contend with. Still, there were some rather heavy smokers in the bar, and Leeroy could only hope they would get drunk enough that she could kick them out.

"Be eazy now, Leeroy..." Lucas muttered as she passed him, the woman approaching the bar to make sure the barkeep wasn't too overwhelmed. Over her shoulder, Leeroy nodded, although her expression was still hard. She then continued to the bar.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Ignorance. Captain Brentwood didn’t even acknowledge the piercing look shot across the room at him from the young woman, rather, his eyes slithered away and his body edged onwards towards the bar. Sergeant Riley cockily grinned, having caught the look phased by the woman towards Liam and smirked in Liam’s place, before approaching the Captain along his left-side towards the bar. “Did ya’ see that fierce look Li… Captain?”[/I] Sergeant Riley said with a correction to his speech, having remembered what he was told about laying low and following protocol to not arouse any alarm-bells. It wasn’t kosher for officers to mingle with their subordinates on an even level, there had to be some heir of respect and authority at all times. Particularly in the damned British Military full of young Toffs and big-wigs at the top.

Captain Brentwood bent his elbows, leaning against ring stained bar-top of dry spilt alcohol. A small tilt emitted from his head, his eyes wandering into Sergeant Riley’s general direction, looking unbothered by what Thomas Riley had to say in correspondence to the young woman’s glare. “They know not what they do, Sergeant” Liam merely recited, as if he were a good catholic boy, spoken words of Jesus Christ himself. Sergeant Riley bit his lip and shuffled to lead against the bar a little more comfortably beside Captain Brentwood, glancing towards Sergeant White and Alexander who both took lingering positions closely to their Captain. The three men seeming more like bodyguards from close inspection, rather than companions of the Captain who’d come out to spend a penny in the local pub.

The bartender approached slowly, having noticed Captain Brentwood’s lethargic stance against the bar-top, both of his elbows perched against the hard sticky grain, with his hands entwined into a ball in front of his face. “Whatcha’ having then?” the bartender spoke softly, causing Liam to slowly look as if he were coming out of a daydream, his bold eyes shimmering upwards towards the gentleman bidding to his service, awaiting patiently for the man’s order. “May I have that rag?” Liam asked quite randomly, ever so slowly pointing to the man’s right shoulder, where a dish-cloth rested - something the bartender must’ve used to clean the sides down with every now and again. “My rag?”[/I] the bartender questioned, his pale hand reaching up towards the fabric perched upon his shoulder, slowly peeling it off to hold between his hands, his eyes locked upon Liam’s the whole while… Unable to look away.

“Thank you” Liam merely gestured, jumping the gun and presuming the bartender was about to give it to him. He was going to give it to him. The middle-aged man glanced to the rag clutched between his fingers and slowly reached out to hand to Liam, a curious and confused look stamped across his face the whole while. Liam quietly pulled the cloth from the man’s grasp and gave a crooked smile, his eyes widening in the process. “four pints on the double, thanks” Liam sharply ordered to the bartender, who by now, was slightly mesmerised by the uncertainty of the man before himself. “Yes… Yes, coming up”[/I] he stammered between a nervous breath, turning to look for some glasses, having lost his rhythm.

Captain Brentwood had been in a world of his own, until he felt a sharp few nudges in his side by Sergeant White. “Captain, you seeing this?”[/b] Julian White questioned, causing the Captain to slowly twist his body, watching a young woman brawl with half of the bar. Neatly folding the dish-cloth between his hands, Captain Brentwood stood there and quietly watched, whilst Sergeant Riley laughed beneath his breath at the scenario unfolding before them. She was quite the woman? Liam could only stare on in admiration from afar, it was a rarity to see a woman with so much strength, authority? Once the little show had seized and a few occupants left the smoke ridden interior to smoke outside, Liam turned to face the bartender again, who by now had served up the drinks and stood there, rubbing his wet hands down his waistcoat. “With every pint you pour, you spill at least a mouthful’s worth in front of your customer. Now, if you calculate all the heads in this pub and the pints in their hands, that’s a lot of drink wasted” the Captain said to the bartender, who pulled a questionable look, not really understanding what he was getting at.

Using the cloth, Liam slowly mopped up the spilt alcohol on the bar-top before himself and then angrily tossed the wet cloth at the bartender’s chest - who instinctively caught it between his hands. “That’s four mouthfuls less I owe you” Liam spat out, reaching for one of the pints before himself to turn his away from the bar. Each of the Sergeants doing the same, as they one by one reached out for a drink and gave a lone glare towards the stunned bartender who’d done nothing wrong, before turning away. By this time, the young boisterous woman was approaching the bar and Liam grinned widely, opening his mouth soon afterwards. “You’re quite the magician” he randomly said, taking a soft sip of his beverage before grinning again, his eyes wandering all over her face. “Making so many men disappear” he spoke softly, his eyes now locked onto hers, having looked all over her features lengthily.

[Leeroy Atherton]

For the second time that night, Harry seemed to be having a problem with one of the customers. The Captain and a couple others - although Leeroy could see them more clearly now, she did not know all of the ranks - were declaring they would not pay in full for their drinks. At least, that's what the door supervisor saw the man's words as. Her little warning must have gone over his head; it didn't surprise her, the woman once again blaming it upon Gorgio habits. She didn't alter her step, though, walking as calmly towards the bar as she did before, since the newcomers had not done enough for anything else. Why provoke a fight in a harsh crowd already, when the reasons for such were non-existent at the time?

Passing a man that seemed to have fallen asleep by his mug, the Captain decided to catch Leeroy's attention. "You’re quite the magician," said he, sipping at his drink and grinning, "making so many men disappear." Leeroy stopped, turning her head to him and his group.

"Your complimentz bizt appreciated, Captain," said Leeroy, business-like in her tone. "But I be expectin' 'ee to be payin' Harry in vull vor the drinkz. Half o' the alcohol a-spilled 'as a-been a-done by yer comrades, not him. Please be not makin' trouble ver thiz bar, it bizt not appreciated."

She then looked at the man's friends, and added, "That be applyin' to 'ee two az well. Yer his ackerz, zo don't be gettin' 'im in trouble." Nothing more needed to be said after that, and Leeroy strode down the rest of the bar, before turning at the end and walking across the far left of the room. It seemed to be a bit more peaceful in the middle, now that another drunken soldier had been escorted out, and the air in the room had cleared slightly from less smokers. Minutes later, Leeroy went down the line that separated the middle tables from the ones at the bottom of the room, uninterrupted. She could not help but feel satisfied when she saw things had quieted down even moreso there.

And then, there was a sudden shatter of glass from the back tables, followed by someone yelling, "AND BANG!" Several people in the bar jumped, including Leeroy, and her eyes flew to where the sudden sound had been made.

"And...aaaaaaaand I sh...sh...shooooot the baaaaaaaaaah - HIC! Hic! Baaaaaaaahttle...rrrrright from out of the...out of the sorry idiot's f-fingersssss..." boasted a drunken Britishman, before falling off his seat and giggling madly. By the redness of his face, he had had one glass too many, and in his lack of common sense, had smashed a beer bottle for emphasis. Leeroy immediately made her way over to the man, and picked him up by his arms, pulling him gently off the glass shards now on the floor.

"All right, 'ee be havin' enough, lad!" said the Romanichal, glaring at the man, and pulled him over to Lucas. To him, she muttered, "Be calling a zomeone, 'e's too drunk to be doin' proper job o' gettin' 'ome tonight. I'll bizt vine ver a vew minutez while ye be dealin' with 'im."

"Will do, but 'ee be sure?" Lucas asked back, looking at Leeroy sternly. She nodded, and Lucas took the man, slinging one arm over his shoulder and walking towards the phone near the largest tables. Harry immediately left the bar top, grabbing a broom from the far northeastern corner, where two door-less entrances led to the rooms upstairs. There was also another entrance over there, used primarily in the daytime by, unsurprisingly, daytime customers.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Sergeant Riley stiffened up as the woman approached the group of men, a mean and tough demeanour alluding her presence as she bluntly approached Liam after his snide remarks and bit-back by the bone. Captain Brentwood merely perked his eyebrows and smirked, his hand subtly gripping tightly at the cold wet pint jug clasped between his fingers; no-one dared to speak in such a tone to the Captain, whether he was in uniform or lounging about in his draws. A lot of people found themselves unstuck when faced with such a brutal and barbaric man, he was almost a jack in the box, you just never knew when to expect him to blow-open and scare the daylights out of you.

This time however, Captain Brentwood stood silently and allowed the young woman to walk away after having her say. Liam’s companions still on edge, their muscles tightened and their necks tense, almost awaiting for the short tempered officer to outrageously explode, but such qualities didn’t surface this time. Strangely? No, the Captain barely seemed amused, nor annoyed by her attitude and simply walked away once she’d nipped at his toes. Sergeant Riley being the more cockier of the three Sergeants accompanying the Captain, dared to speak up first; “Crikey, didn’t like the way she spoke to you Captain”[/I] Sergeant Riley bluntly stated, causing the two other Sergeants to awkwardly stiffen up again and cautiously look at Riley, hoping the poor man didn’t just put his foot in it, belittling Captain Brentwood further.

Squeezing through two tightly placed tables, Liam ignored Sergeant Riley’s remark and continued onwards, but was abruptly stopped in his tracks as the ignorant soldier from earlier reared his ugly head outwards from his seat, leaning back on his chair in the process to block Captain Brentwood’s path. With a massive grin on his face, the bulky middle aged man laughed and spat out - “Think you just got told mate”. Liam’s eye twitched as he felt himself go over the edge, having tried to hold back his temper; turning his head to look at the bulky man leaning back on his chair, who was by now laughing at his ignorant and disrespectful remark, Liam chirped a small laugh to himself and almost instantly drew back the pint of beer - spilling half of it over the table behind himself - before launching it forwards in a full hearted swing towards the man’s face.

*SMASH!*

The heavy thick pint glass remarkably shattered as it collided against the hardened skull of the man’s face, completely catching him by surprise and knocking him backwards from off his chair with a curdling cry. “Not so funny now are ya’!?” Liam barked downwards at the slobbering man who’d fallen beneath his feet, the entire room’s occupants almost going silent for a brief instant as their heads turned to the incident in the room. “You fuc---” the man blurted out incoherently from between his palms, attempting to cradle his face, but only felt sharp pieces of shards protruding from his flesh, subsequently cutting his palms in the process, but before Liam could even rub anymore remarks into the man’s face, his friends arose from the table in an hesitant manner and stood there with a posture that insinuated their lack of wanting to get involved.

Sergeant White slipped a hand to his holster real quickly, as if ready to draw, whilst Sergeant Riley laughed like a hyena and unsheathed his bayonet, a crazed look appearing across his face. Meanwhile Sergeant Alexander began to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up, as if he was ready to go toe to toe. “C’mon then, whatcha’ gonna’ do?” Liam shouted at the man’s companions who began to step away from the table, one of them subtly sliding a hand behind his back, where a revolver laid tucked into the back of his trousers, under his un-tucked shirt. It seemed as if things were about to kick off…

[Leeroy Atherton]

After the incident with the smashed bottle, things seemed to be a bit more calm in the bar. Perhaps Leeroy had finally gotten rid of all the troublemakers? There had to be close to a dozen or so people that the door staff had evicted from the bar already. Then again, they were soldiers, and they were pretty much drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Whoever was left with the ability to stand could probably still cause quite a fight. Why had Monty not closed early when he heard they were coming?

Just as Leeroy reached the bar again, the four soldiers from before rose from their seats. They began to move forward into the centre of the room, but then, a man leaned into their way. One might think it was because it was out of drunken tiredness, but apparently, the only thing that was tired out was this leaning man's common sense. He grinned a stupid grin at the Captain, and then, brayed like a donkey. Leeroy raised her eyebrows at this display, just as the drunken idiot said, "Think you just got told mate."

All hell broke loose as the Captain snapped. Even though Leeroy was close to him, she could not stop the man in time, jumping back slightly as alcohol flew from the mug drawn back. There was a second sound of glass breaking that night, and the one who had insulted the Captain gave a choking cry. His laughter had been cut off by the glass embedded in his face, and he had fallen to the floor from the force. He clutched at his wounds as the Captain snapped, "Not so funny now are ya!?" as Leeroy bolted forward, Aaron doing so as well. Lucas, who was still on the phone, whirled around to see what was going on.

"That be enough! Knock it ovv!!" the woman bellowed, catching the attention of a few of the injured man's companions, who were now up on their feet and backing away. The Captain and his friends, however, remained steadfast, one slipping his hand into a gun holster, the other drawing a bayonet as he laughed like a maniac. The remaining one simply unbuttoned his sleeves, apparently ready to bash a few skulls in. Leeroy could not help but feel her irritation rise, and Aaron positioned himself near the nearest door, which was the one Leeroy had thrown the uncouth smoker through before.

"All right, all right...that be enough!" yelled Leeroy. She could see that Lucas, being the smart man he was, had covered the telephone with his one hand, turning and leaning against the wall. It now looked like he was just holding a sore ear, and hopefully, no one would notice him standing in the corner. As she stepped between the Captain and his group, and the group whose leader had just been attacked, Leeroy took a deep breath, praying that Lucas didn't look too inconspicuous. A door supervisor doing nothing during a fight was a sight that would attract unwanted attention.

"Now," began Leeroy, her voice as calm as she could get it, "hark well. 'Ee be backin' off now, zirz. If ye 'ave a problem with the other patrons that be 'ere, come get me, or any ov the other door zupervizorz. Now - "

She looked over her shoulder at the victims of the encounter, not turning fully so the Captain couldn't pull anything on her.

"Yer vriend be treated dreckley, we've called zomeone. Vor the meantime, I chinny reckon 'ee don't be leavin'; zome very important people be angered iv 'ee be buggerin' off now. Aaron, would 'ee bizt zo kind?"

"Yez'm, ma'am," said the other door supervisor, walking over to the small group. Glaring at them, he hefted their leader to his feet, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, holding it to the injured man's face. With a grunt, Aaron motioned for them to follow, leaving Leeroy to turn back to Liam, arms crossed.

"And 'ee," she growled, "be not goin' anywhere dreckley. Don't tell I any excuzez, I zaw what 'ee be doin'. 'E be a rezpectable inn, and 'e be a rezpectable town, and I don't be appreciatin' what 'ee be doin'. Would 'ee be zo kind as to ztep into the back, and leave everyone elze be?"

The woman then pointed at the man's three lackeys.

"That be applyin' to 'ee three az well. 'Ee can't all be buzzin' 'round like wopzez and be dizturbin' the peace anywhen yer Captain - "

"OI! Buzzard brains!"

Leeroy turned just in time to see a glass hurtling towards her, a wave of an unknown beverage flying through the air in the same direction. She ducked, jumping out of the way and avoiding both being drenched and injured, but the Captain was in the path of the glass. If he didn't move out of the way, he might end up like the unlucky soul who he had thrown a pint into.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

Tensions were rising like a full-moon tide, the embankments and harbours becoming flooded instantly, but then when you least expected it, the tide drew out. Such comparisons were a fine detail of how Liam Brentwood’s behaviour was; calm, relaxed and chirpy one moment and a whole boiling kettle of wretched stinking fish heads the next. Everyone saw him coming in such a state and no-one dared oppose him, even a few superiors were hesitant at times and only one ever recommended him for promotion. One move that now earned the yank who done so, a bad name amongst his king’s constabulary of serving regiments, who knew the name ‘Liam Brentwood’ all too well. Making a mad man a superior on the battlefield? Captain? Heh, such qualities Liam harboured were reserved for grunts, not gentleman.

Immediately the pub’s ‘lackey’ security kicked in and Captain Brentwood found himself silently snarling within his throat, his eyes becoming thin slits and his nose scrunching up ever so slightly. Noticing his companions act like a pack of dogs rearing up with testosterone and excitement, the Captain made a subtle move his hand, catching all of their attention on the side, indicating for them to pipe-down slightly, something wasn’t right? Liam’s eyes moved across the room, hardly paying much attention to the ‘croonies’ stood before them; in Liam’s mind, their leader had been shut-up and like a brain being turned off, the rest of the components would fail to work. It was simple logic to Captain Brentwood, take out the big mouth and suddenly everything else falls apart.

Then, Liam’s eyes caught someone by a phone against the wall, attempting to cover themselves from doing so, but before he could examine any further on the man making the phone-call or any other immediate people in the room, the loud mouthed ‘bitch’ made herself known again. Sergeant Riley’s grip on his bayonet tightened momentarily, almost having the urge to stick it in her, but such horrendous impulses were vibes from Captain Brentwood. All of Liam’s companions found themselves blindly manipulated by his vibes, a compassion for loyalty, justice and revenge. Such emotions blinding any man’s ordeal with normal expressions in a time of war. Acting normal just didn’t make sense anymore, their blood felt purged by Captain Brentwood, almost as if they didn’t need to verbally communicate to know what to do next.

As the wounded man was cradled in the security’s arms and dragged away, Captain Brentwood grinned widely at the man’s companions and made a sign towards them as they walked away. Dragging his thumb across his throat, Liam insinuated they’ll be dead, but then the raunchy young woman pumped on too much male presence spat her tongue at Captain Brentwood and his associates. As if he wasn’t even listening, Liam nodded to his fellow Sergeants and they immediately relaxed, dropping their hostile stances, but all of their eyes falling on the young woman as they drew closer, surrounding her by every side - not literally blocking her in, but with such close proximity from the rugged men, it would seem claustrophobic to any person, feeling as if all four walls were drawing in around themselves and the room’s light was dimming.

Grinning again, Captain Brentwood shifted back his officer’s cap and looked towards the woman with his piercing bold eyes. “Fiesty… I like that” Liam softly said, his hand reaching out to her face slowly, but before he even touched her, a voice hollered from behind and a hurled pint glass thumped against his back, spilling beverage everywhere, before the heavy glass collided with the ground and shattered amongst their feet. Lurching forwards from the heavy thump to his back, Liam’s hand instinctively grabbed at Leeroy’s shoulder to steady himself from toppling into her and his finely shoed feet squeaked against the floor. Feeling a little stunned, Liam glared at Leeroy with an expression that no normal man would express. At first his eyes were widened with slight shock, but then soon narrowed, with his gaped open mouth forming into a wide smile and his cheeks perking up. It was at this precise point, Liam gripped tightly into Leeroy’s shoulder and said; “Huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down! Run little piggy, run!” shoving his hand off her shoulder, he turned to his side and grabbed an empty wooden seat, heaving it off the floor and laughing like a mad man as he launched into the man’s direction who threw a pint of beer at his back.

With that one sudden movement, it was like hell breaking lose… Sergeant Riley barged past Leeroy and hopped onto a nearby table that sat eight patrons, with only four sitting sparsely around the table. Kicking his leg out, he knocked one of the men clean off his chair and sweeping his leg in, he showered another patron with the table’s entire booze, causing the four men to pipe up angrily. Whilst Sergeant Riley spread anarchy, Sergeant White merely grabbed the nearest patron of the pub and clashed his forehead with him, knocking the man down, but sending himself dizzy at the same time, taking a brutal blow to the face from another angered patron. Thankfully, Sergeant Alexander was at hand and jumped into the fray, knocking the man from his feet and grabbing one of the bar stools to quickly collide with a hurled wooden chair coming into his direction.

Now, the entire pub was in disarray and chairs, booze and fists found themselves being launched everywhere. Captain Brentwood laughed like mad amongst the commotion in the room, shoving his way past another patron who rowdily staggered towards him with a raised bottle, but easily enough toppled over from a simple nudge into the right direction. Staring at Leeroy from across the way, Captain Brentwood laughed, an evil grin stamped across his face as he watched the pub fall into anarchy, knowing this was a better time than any to start making his leave - once he’d had a little fun first.

*** OOC! ***
Sorry if my post ain't fantastic, I'm trying to find my typing fingers for RP again. Been too long!

[Leeroy Atherton]

So the Captain thought he could send his watchdogs in to intimidate Leeroy, hm? The big bad officer, sending in his lackeys to try and act all tough, circling Leeroy like animals. Feh. It was a move all too cliché of "the big boys"; it didn't scare her. In fact, not a lot of things scared Leeroy much anymore - it was one of the perks of working the doors. One had to learn to deal with all matter of situations, sharpening their coping and problem-solving skills, ultimately learning that game faces and patience were key. As long as she did not show fear or weakness, she would not be the injured minnow, swimming around in a pond where the bigger fish could get at her.

"Feisty…I like that," murmured the Captain. A hand reached toward Leeroy's face, but one of her own hands swiftly came up to catch the man by the wrist. Leeroy opened her mouth to calmly state her thanks, but then came the, "Oi, buzzard brains!" insult, and a pint glass ended up smashing into the Captain's back. Her lurched forward, and Leeroy stepped back to avoid being fallen upon, one hand going back to gently push one of the man's "cronies" aside. The officer managed to catch himself on Leeroy's shoulder, and his head slowly rose, him looking hard at her with a stunned expression.

"Ye be all right?" the woman asked, raising her eyebrows at the man's face. They furrowed, though, along with a narrowing of her eyes, when he grinned like a maniac.

"Huff and I’ll puff, and I'll blow your house down! Run little piggy, run!" he said, his voice a strange drawl - a drawl Leeroy was all too familiar with. Her heart skipped a beat as her body tensed in anticipation; this ne'er-do-'ell, who had to choose her bar to drink in, of all places, was a lunatic!

"OI! Don't bizt - " began Leeroy, only to be shoved aside as all manner of chaos broke loose. She fell back onto a table, just barely catching herself as the men scattered, grabbing and smashing things, knocking people over that had nothing to do with the events that had just transpired. Under her breath, Leeroy thickly swore, cursing the fact there were only three door staff in the room.

"'EE BLOODY GITS!" yelled Leeroy at the gang of rogue soldiers. "'EE BE GONNA BE ZORRY VOR THAT!"

Yet again, another cliché moment - this time from Leeroy herself. It would probably have made some sort of evening radio drama: a madman and his throng that just happened to be trained to kill, taking out their craze-rage tendencies on unsuspecting bar patrons. Luckily, Lucas had finished making his call, and was shepherding anyone trying to get away through one door, Aaron running forward to try and get to the soldiers who were making such a ruckus.