Wiping the floor with our faces

[Sally]

Sally Lautner starts to limp out of the AAA diner- he's got that knife in one hand and his head down; his other hand has a sweating TRDC Beer from Ondrej in it. He stops in the doorway, head bobbing some and then turns around with a wince. Beside him is that little girl's Weird Shit Board from the Coos County Historical Fiction Society, full of ,well, weird shit, that they've faced.

After a long stare at the Big Knife in hand, Sally forces himself to set it down. An equally long stare for Ondrej's beer, which is still capped, mind you.

"Well, shit," Sally says, looking up.

He's got a black eye that looks down right pleasant compared to the split lip and massive bruise forming along his jaw. It looks like somebody wearing a rather impressive gauntlet smacked the shit out of him. A literal pimp-slap from a Strong Hand.

"We don' got ou' asses whooped," he calls out to a room that is largely grumbling, more likely that not. "That shit happens. But all things con-sid-ered, we've won fights an' come 'way way worse off than we is now, right?" He seems strangely okay with the fact that he'd been rag-dolled by the King of Brightness.

Sally very pointedly looks anywhere but at Mason Fell as he says this.

"Big Bad Bright Daddy went an' cut a switch an' tanned ou' hides wit it..." he says, left hand flailing to the point that the manacle cuffed their's loose partner nearly whacks him in the face, "But afta we clean ou'selves up some, we gon' see that we got ou' folks back in ou' folds, an' tha's wha's im-por-tant."

Sally says this next part with a surprising rawness in his voice, "That Big Bad Bright Daddy said they was con-scripts. They don' got Shang-hai'd into it, from the sount uv it, so don't bear them no ill will none. These loony-tunes fuckers mess wit' folks heads... an', an' we ken all re-late to that, right?"

Sally steps back into the Diner more, "Iffin' we ain't pissin' ou-selfs scairt cuzza moths 'r Blind Molly 'r the B-Butcher 'r Giant Golldarn Fuckin' Eyeballs, we's takin' swings at each otha' cuz of Fairy Dust in ou' eyes - those shit heads think is' funny to make us tryin' kill each otha-" Sally starts to ball his fists, but stops and looks at the beer, then the Knife, then his boots, and then, finally back at the crowd,
"-the point is, we all gotta swalla' the bitter pill and take our licks when we lose it. Ain't no hard feelin's in it- at least, they shouldn't be. I mean, I dun emptied my magazine into Bobby Grey's flak jacket when he was loopy and shot Alice, an' me an' him is still right as rain. Is just how this sorta thing goes," he says, with a shrug.

"Any how, I'mma go see if I can find me a T-bone to slap on this here shiner, then I'm gon' sit right in fronta that there fire and figure out how I can get me some Cold Iron Brass Fuckin' Knuckles so I can cock-punch that hoity-toity shit head next time I's sees him..."

As Sally turns to pick up the Big Knife, he leaves the TRDC Beer set aside, and starts limping towards the door.

[Owle Isohos]

Kelsey followed him. She didn't say a word. She'd already said all she had to say - that she was glad everyone was alive. She didn't give much of a damn that they'd lost the fight, and if she'd realized surrendering would make the fae stop hurting and killing her friends, she'd have tried to do it a good deal sooner. Maybe that said something bad about her, but she was a healer, not a warrior. She'd seen enough injuries that she knew there was no honor in bleeding and dying, just mess. The honor was in what you fought for, and pride wasn't worth that kind of pain.

The medic was beat up, her purple coat slashed open by claws, a few shallow cuts marring her skin. Those hounds had gotten to her more than once when they'd broken through the lines, or when she'd been charging towards the fray to get to someone who'd gone down. She'd disinfected the wounds already, though, and the coat could wait.

When Sally noticed her, Kelsey shrugged and asked, "Mind some company?"

She didn't mention he looked like he could use some.

[HecateSkivvy]

Leslie is standing in the corner with his hands in his pockets and his head down. His walking stick is several meters away, on the other side of the diner. He's been standing here, in this position, for several minutes now.

"We've brought this on ourselves, you know. Mortals should not allow themselves to be used as tools to interfere with immortal affairs..." he says, in increasingly quiet tone. "

Leslie still hasn't looked up. He takes one hand and pulls his hat down over his eyes. His volume returns to normal, but his voice is flat. For once, he seems to have misplaced the manic.

"That said, my offer still stands. If anyone wants to come on by and deck me one, I deserve it."

[Eden Jones]

Eden takes a look at Sally's injuries and gets up and heads to the kitchen. Moments later, she comes back with an icepack wrapped in a towel. "Take this." She slides it across the table towards him. "It's much more hygienic than a steak."

She sits down in a chair, wincing slightly. She's changed into new clothing to replace her previous Hound-shredded ensemble, but there is still some blood soaking through in various places, particularly on her legs and arms.

"Leslie, I have no desire to deck you over this. There are people I'd like to deck, but they're all petty, powerful Fae who would take that as an excuse to layer on some more grievous bodily harm. I've had about all I can take for one day."

Tiredness is clear in her voice, but there's a noticeable current of irritation underneath. "As for the Dawn Court getting back their throne, after the whupping they gave us, they can damn well manage it themselves. I have no intention of lifting a finger to help either of the courts. We've done more than enough already, and with the paltriest expressions of gratitude -- at best -- in return. If you want to lend them a hand, that's your call. I'm done."

Her ire temporarily expended, she looks over to Kelsey, "How are you doing, lady? You kept a great deal of people from dying today, likely me among them. Thank you."

[Amelia Casselman]

"Fucking hell, Leslie," Amelia scowls, and she's truly ready to deck him one, but her hand falls on his shoulder instead. She'll leave the abuse to Phil, or maybe one of the other demons, but it's too unsophisticated for even Beatrice.

"You deserve to be hit, probably, but not for this." She still hasn't forgiven him about the Ratigan Incident--that's burned into her brain and not going anywhere anytime soon--even if they're all equally at fault for not coming up with a solution before Leslie spoke up.

"I would have only shot you if I could've brought you back to us, okay?" She cringes. That came out a bit wrong, didn't it? She used to be better at socializing. It's been too long. She's still too rough around the edges and it's not going to get better anytime soon. "I wasn't going to risk it though, not without knowing if I could stabilize you fast enough." And Phil had been on the opposite side of the field. Probably. Probably keeping far away from the situation. What the hell was a demon supposed to do when their Keeper was on the other side, anyway?

"We'll deal with this shit in the spring. We have to live that long, first."

[kimp]

:: Liberty comes in the door slowly, her gait sadly uneven. Even more sadly she clutches the hilt of wakizashi from which protrudes the shards of a broken blade. She presses it to her upper chest near the shoulder, the motion faintly reverent.

Her gaze is inward until it lights on the discarded, unopened beer. Then she focuses on it, then across the room at Sally, then back on it. Adjusting her steps so they are less cramped limp and more a swagger that uses little knee, she shoves the stuffed squirrel she'd been holding in her free hand into the side pocket of her cargoes and looped her fingers around the neck of the bottle.

With it securely in her grasp she started across the room, only to side track for a moment to bump Leslie with her shoulder and murmur "my official statement is I am not sorry," before continuing to the table where the others cluster.

She meets Sally's eye before sitting, raises the bottle slightly and mouths "will we talk?", accompanying the gesture with an eyebrow raise. Then she shoves the bottle into another of her cargoes' pockets and settled very slowly, muttering something that sounds like "stoopid The Game", on one of the stools at the table.

Placing her broken blade on the table she asks ::
Anyone know any good weaponsmiths? I loaned Mason my Wakizashi and the Shiny King broke it.

[HecateSkivvy]

Leslie pulls his hat up a little, he makes eye contact, and the lights turn back on for a second.

"Thanks, I guess. I mean, I'll be the first to say this was a real bad situation to begin with, and -"

Leslie is bumped. He trails off for a second, following Liberty's comment...

"Wait! Liberty! I mean, that is as opposed to my unofficial, off-the-record opinion, which is to say that I am and was very very sorry.

"I don't like using my... Uh.... talents on neighbors and close friends. But I had to do it, otherwise I'd be acting against the will of the King, and that'd really have messed things up for all of us. The consequence of a lack of participation was explained to me as 'extermination' or 'a slow explosion, sweeping through the diner.' I did my part to prevent that, and so did we all."

[Sally]

As Sally heads for the door, Kelsey catches him, and he says, "Ya know, I think I might jus' like that." His smile shows some blood on his teeth from his split lip, but he grabs a pair of stools and heads towards the fireplace. As they pass by Leslie, Sally shifts both stools to one arm and makes to swat the slight man, but instead pats him across the back and shakes his head.

By the fire, he sets the stools down at the table where Eden resides, places it so that Kelsey can sit, and then plops himself down. When Eden hands him the icepack, he says, "Ya might be onta somethin' there, Ms. Eden, many thanks," he winces as he puts the cold to his face. "Lou n' Liberty showed me how ta get them out so they don't stain none," Sally says, nodding towards Kelsey & Eden's bloodied garbs. He himself his splattered left and right with the stuff, along with a definitely odd spatter of some black ichor that still marred a good chunk of his face and neck and arms. "An' Ms. Jones," Sally says to Eden, correcting himself, then pausing. He looks around the room, scanning for Victor- the other Ms. Jones- and then checks his wallet, his gun belt, and and his knife holster to make sure all three are in place.

"An', I say we add Fai-ry royalty to the list of Med-Tech Robots an' Blackstone-on-Blackstone crime, in terms of Shit I Ain't Want No Part Of."

As Eden turns to Kelsey, Sally says, "Oh, yeah, an' thanks for puttin' my shoulder back inta the socket all them damn times, there Kelse!"

When Liberty joins them, Sally eyes the bottle, and his face falls for a long moment. He gives the woman a nod, and then winces back into his cold pack. Best get himself patched up and such 'fore he went back an' tried hoppin' on the Wagon again...

[Henry Gondorf]

"I might, Liberty," Henry croaked. He limped to the door, cleared his throat then spat out something crimson. He stepped back in before sinking back into his seat. "that authentic or a modern piece?"

He fixed the tatters of his coat and bloody shirt around him for warmth. "That's the thing, ain't it? You'd think these bastards would have the long view in mind. Just because the sands aren't running out for them they'd mind those whose are."

"These son'sabitch's been around so long all they see is themselves." The heat rose in his voice, "And because all they have is each other to cut on they only know how to bleed and make others weep."

Henry forced himself to settle down before he went on. No one was in any shape for another round so soon. When he had his thoughts in hand, he tried to finish as calmly as he could. "They keep telling us This is how it goes; this is how it always will be.They force us to use their rules then break us in half with them. And they can because all they have is time to break even those."

Henry knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to make those bastards learn the meaning of fear and pain. He knew what he want to do. Looking at the people slowly trickle back in, the walking wounded and spirit broken, he stopped. He get away with deluding himself into trying to win a lost battle. But he would be damned if he tried to rally them for another venture over the top.

"Next time 'round, they shouldn't expect to have it all their way again." Henry finished. He focused on those still coming. He needed to know who made it back for himself.

[kimp]

:: Liberty pivots on her stool and twists her head to frown at Leslie. She cocks her head, studying him, then frowns slightly ::
Every time you say
:: She lifts a hands and make air quotes ::
Officially I
:: Close quotes, lowering of hand ::
you actually mean the exact opposite.
:: A head cock ::
Right?

:: She goes silent, looks down, then up again ::
By saying I officially was not sorry, I thought I was...
:: She stops and shakes her head ::
Never mind. I am glad we were not exploded. Or imploded. Stop propping up the wall and come sit with us.

:: With that she turns back on the stool and fingers the hilt of her broken blade ::
I need some tea.
:: With that non-sequitir she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her stuffed squirrel, placing it on the table next to the hilt, then digs a little deeper in the pocket and pulls out a tin which she opens to reveal a tea bag. She slants a glance over at Sally ::
I haven't tried this yet. Do you think this is a good time to bring out the Too Good For Ordinary People?

:: She turns quickly when Henry joins them ::
Authentic. It was a gift. It would be an offense not to have it fixed, even if I can no longer wield it.