Gaston | ON HOLD

ELEVEN

No one fights like Gaston, douses lights like Gaston. In a wrestling match nobody bites like Gaston...
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LeFou elbowed his way through the crowd in order to reach the bar. The dull glow of the neon 'Budweiser' sign cast a halo of sorts around the muscle hunk pouring the drinks. With a nervous smile, the chubby little man signaled for service and waited his turn. He had been away from Stanley for a month and would never dream of cheating on the man-- but no one said he couldn't at least enjoy the view.

With him leaving for home in the morning, the idea had been for Tom, Gaston and himself to enjoy a few shots of whiskey as a Bon Voyage. Having the first shot fly out of his hand and land on the guy next to him-- not so much.

Technically, LeFou could have claimed that it wasn't his fault since the guy was the one to have bumped into him. But with a six foot frame, and shoulders as broad as a doorway, LeFou wasn't going to make a big deal about it.

He prayed the other man wouldn't either, but unfortunately, LeFou couldn't have been more wrong.

"Looks like the drink's on you," LeFou joked as the man turned to glare at him.

With a growl in response, the man stalked forward.

"Okay, clearly you're not happy." LeFou backed up against the bar as the man's hot breath fogged up his glasses. "So how about you let me buy you a beer, big guy, and then we can call it even."

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Gaston drummed his fingers impatiently on the tall boy. The last thing he wanted to do was be sitting here with Tom. Now with LeFou gone, an awkward silence hung heavily between the two.

When Morgan received the text message from Tom this morning, Gaston had immediately refused the idea. But with a little encouragement from Morgan to 'bury the hatchet', Gaston had finally agreed to a guy's night, celebrating LeFou.

"How long does it take to order three shots of whiskey?" Gaston grumbled.

"Oh boy." Suddenly, Tom sat up straighter, his eyes brightening as he pointed to something just over Gaston's shoulder. "It looks like LeFou might be in trouble!"

Swiveling in his seat, Gaston followed Tom's gaze. Sure enough, LeFou seemed to be standing toe to toe with a hostile drunk man.

With a grunt, Gaston slid down from the barstool. As he sauntered up to the pair, he could over hear LeFou standing his ground.

"I don't think you understand." LeFou's voice had taken on a tone that Gaston had never heard before. "I said I'm not leaving."

"And I say, ya don't have much-of-a choice."

The other man's words were slurred as he spoke, snickers and laughter from his companions egging him on. If things suddenly went south, like Gaston fully anticipated them too, this was going to turn into a seven on two brawl. Assuming Tom couldn't be counted on to help out.

"Look, I'm here like you, just trying to have a good time. So either you let me buy you that drink, or move on. We're wasting time here and I'm still sober."

Gaston watched as the man's face turned beet red. As his hands balled into a couple of giant fists, the hunter decided now was probably the time to introduce himself.