Get Your Guns | Vol. 1 | Jamie Bower Fanfiction

2 | Sucker Punch

Skye Moira Delaney

The door slammed after me as I walked out of the pub and turned left down the street. I had confused that guy in there pretty badly, his face had been priceless. Say something, anything in French to a bothersome guy and they are lost. That is, if they do not speak it themselves, but they rarely do. I tucked my pants up as I walked, they were too tight and kept creeping down, the fact that they were also soaked didn't help. Bloody skinny jeans.

It wasn't raining as badly as it did before, though it was still drizzling. My hair was still drenched - no, I was still drenched as I hurried home wanting to get out of the horrible London weather more than anything. My roommates would be wondering where I had gone. I had just come from the theater, some tiny place in the lesser known streets of London.

Anthony, the director was what was called a terrible director. Once more we had gotten into some huge argument whether or not I should say or do something, it was a bit ridicules really. But Anthony just didn't get what I called realistic conversation, and he refused to learn. That and his annoying voice was what did it for me. It was high pitched and girly, it was needless to say that he was gay (nothing against gays) but he had just taken it way too far. Using his gayness when I told him he was an idiot, calling me a homophobe and all kinds of shit. My best friend Brad was gay! But he didn't act like a twat. Being gay did not excuse you being a horrible person, nor did it automatically make you right, Anthony!

I breathed deeply trying to get Anthony's high pithed voice out of my head. The drink had helped a bit, but not as much as I had hoped for. I need to talk to Jane. She was my 'female' best friend. She was the kind of girl that could give you a lot of insight in your own life, like she had actually been there herself. She probably had at some point in her life. She like me worked in the business of entertaining people; she was a stuntwoman.

She and Brad were my roommates. Brad had the coolest job in the world; he was a video game tester, which meant he sat at home all day in front of various types of game consoles, playing various games and then he wrote a review afterwards. That also meant he practically never got out and always ended up smelling like a skunk, until Jane and I essentially hoisted him up and locked him in the bathroom. This had happened more times than I care to admit. Jane was bisexual, but she preferred girls. She was kind of the stereotype tomb - girl, she trained various type of martial arts and went to the gym all the time. She had to be in exceptional shape to do her job without getting seriously hurt. Never the less she had a rockin' bod.

I kicked a little stone down the street, I walked pretty quickly, trying to keep the pace and kick the stone at the same time. I was so distracted by my endeavours that I didn't hear the person approaching me from behind.

The person pulled my shoulder turning me around to face them; I by instinct raised my hand in a fist and slammed it into the person's face. Purely out of the fact that they had scared me half to death! Rule number one: do not surprise me! Especially not at night on the street! It always, and I tell you, always end badly! The person crumbled back in front of me, holding his hands to his nose while he yelled innumerable curses at me. It was the blond guy from the bar.

"Fuck!" I said running to his aid, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! You just startled me!" I rambled as I tried to pull him up to inspect the damage I had done. He was still yelling and yammering in pain.

"What the bloody fuck did you do that for?!" he cursed at me, as I tried to hoist him up from his crouched position.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" I apologized, finally able to get him up. carefully, I took his face in my hands turning it so I could see it. Standing up beside him I realized just how tall he was. He was practically towering over me. His eyes were swirling around, looking down, almost closed.

"Look at me", I ordered, he slowly everted his gaze to mine. He was a bit dazed, I wasn't sure if he even saw me, to be honest. There was blood running down from his nose in a slow but steady stream. He put his hands on my shoulders for support. Basically, he looked like one, who was just about to tumble over.

"You should go to the hospital", I told him "you probably have a concussion." He just laughed at me, pulling his hands from my shoulders wanting to proof that I hadn't injured him that badly. He stood up for like half a second, and then was about to tumble over once more yelping. I reacted quickly ducking under his shoulder and pulling him up again. Moron...

"Definitely going", I told him as I went down in my bag to pull out a tissue, I held it to him. He took it mumbling "Thanks," and held it to his nose. Finally somehow getting his situation - bloody nose, knock downed by a girl and unbelievably drunk - at least he weren't trying to stand by himself anymore. I walked him over to the curb where we sat down. Standing really didn't seem safe.

"You okay?" I asked. He glared at me with raised eyebrows, like I was an idiot.

"I just got sucker punched, what do you think?" he scolded, he folded the paper in his hand, trying to find a spot which wasn't all red yet. "How did you learn to punch like that anyway?"

"I took boxing as a teen", I confessed, trying to get close enough to expect his nose. I was worried that it was broken.

"Let me see again", I demanded and then added "It's not my first broken nose."

"Oh, really", he said sarcasm dripping from his voice, but he turned around letting me expect him none the less. His eyes had lost its daze and he was looking straight at me. His breath smelled of alcohol. He didn't have a concussion it seemed, the daze I had seen before was still there, though it was not from my punch, but from the problematic amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"This happens often to you?" he asked as I inspected his nose, he winced when I hit the bridge, but otherwise he was fine. It wasn't broken. It just hurt a lot and bleed a bit, that was it. Nothing, that wouldn't be gone in a couple days.

"More times than I care to admit", I mumble as I let his face go "you're fine by the way, it's not broken."

"Well, that's a relief." He sighed, still holding the tissue under his nose, it was almost totally red. I reached down to clasp another one. He took it.

"Why were you running after me?" I asked him, I wasn't one to dart around a question afraid to ask. He shook his head regretfully.

"It was your drawing; I wanted to see it", he said in a hushed voice, he probably regretted his wish seeing as it had now gotten him a bloody nose and probably a hard headache, though he would probably have gotten the last thing anyway, due to the immense drinking.

I sighed. Really? I hated when people saw my drawings, absolutely loathed it. They were private. But sadly I owed the guy as much, seeing as I had hit him in the face. Couldn't I be less flinchy!

"Ow, oh okay," I mutter, reaching down into my bag to pull out my book. I flapped it open, careful not to show the other drawings. He snatched it from my lap as soon as the right drawing appeared. He inspected it curiously.

"This is really good", he concluded, looking at me with a slight smile.

"Thank you", I reached out to get it, but he slit away from me, holding out the pad.

"Wait a second! I want to tweet a picture of it", he was just about to take his phone out of his pocket when I jumped up a ripped the sketchpad out of his hand.

"No you won't", I said sternly. No fucking way he was tweeting my drawing!

"What? Why?" He asked, he looked at me like I was the rude one. I didn't reply.

"Are you okay now?" I asked, standing up in front of him, trying to tuck my sketchpad in my bag.

"Yeah sure I'm okay! Why..." I didn't hear the rest I just turned and started hurrying down the street yelling, "sorry!" over my shoulder once more as I turned a corner and he disappeared out of sight. Thank god I wasn't going to see him again! Bloody tosser.

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