"Political argument," Brian told her. It wasn't the most helpful explanation on the surface. On the other hand, Tim was an activist. He hid his status as an Emergent partially by campaigning openly for Emergent rights, along with Johnny Parr, Brian's brother. Brian stayed out of it because it seemed like trouble brewing. John wasn't an Emergent, as far as Brian knew, and Tim was roping John into unnecessary danger this way. So his tone wasn't entirely approving.

Still, he helped Tim over to the couch; he could explain the rest, if able, though his voice was nasal as he said, "They got all pissed off at what I had to say and slugged me!" Though it came out differently because of the nose.

"Those jackasses weren't serious about talking. They were showing off for girls." The bar business was a daytime thing now, because the night belonged to terror once more. They were back to the Puritan days, huddling behind chains. The problem was that the Water of Life was a good bar. The others in Haye were not as clean or as good with food. It was a place to bring girls precisely because it wasn't some oily redneck bar. Brian was used to the douchebag demographic.

"So you're saying that if I let it slide I wouldn't be here?"

"Yeah. You started on them when they said something off-handed." And then, of course, the comments. Why are you standing up for them against normal decent folk? Hey, fuck you shame-kisser.

It was so predictable that Doug and Butch or whatever their actual names were, would latch onto the chance to show off how tough they were. A couple of Happy Valley dickheads home because PSU was shut down for the semester, looking for an outlet, drinking too much.

"Isn't that cowardice?" Tim demanded.

"No, it's survival," Brian countered. That, of course, was the argument Emergents were having all over the country. Hide or try civil discourse. The other options were unspoken, as yet.