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[i]You've gotta be fucking kidding me.[/i]

Deon didn't have to have the use of his eyes to know that the blue-haired female had run. It had only taken two words from his agent to light that fire under her ass that he knew to be the trigger. But then again, in a place like The Spit, 'BoD Agent' would have had anyone running. But not Deon. Deon never ran. Even if he had a few things he took great care in keeping off of the surface where cops of any kind would like to stick their long, greasy noses in to get a whiff, as a small-time celebrity within the lower districs, he was protected. More or less. The fight was over and it didn't look as though he would be allowed to be swinging his fists for the crowd any time soon. Not with the bitch BoD sticking her nose around where it didn't belong. Tonight was done... and so was he.

With a low snarl, Deon pushed his way through the cage, going by memory as he stepped outside and maneuvered through the crowd towards the back wall where he had a room to change, get cleaned up from a fight, and even bring back a girl or two for a quick, good time. But what Deon had in mind in that moment was more or less along the 'clean-up' portion. Reaching the hallway, he could hear and faintly see that behind him, the power had been turned on and as he walked through the tight, dark space and finally reached his room, flipping the switch on the old, brick wall confirming it to be true.

Making a beeline to the sink set up in the corner of the room, Deon turned on the leaky faucet and cupped his hands, splashing the cool water over his face in an effort to clean off some of the drying blood from what he knew to be a broken nose. By memory, he reached out his right hand and grabbed a wadded up towel, used for such purposes on a number of occasions, and dabbed his face dry, doing what he could to wipe away the remaining blood with a cracked mirror positioned above the sink as his only guide. Finally, after tossing the towel aside with disinterest, his new area of focus landed on the small shelf on the wall where an assortment of pill and alcoholic bottles took over the space. His hand reached out and grabbed hold of one of the unmarked pill bottles. Using his forearm to twist the cap off, he opened up his palm and caught one of the pills sliding out of the bottle that he had tilted. Not bothering again with the cap, he put the bottle back where he got it and popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it down without the use of water.

There was a small pause before Deon's teeth grit down hard and his hands braced himself by holding onto both sides of the sink. Hunching over it, shoulder blades pressing together with his head hanging below his shoulders, his grip tightened as a series of surpressed groans of pain passed through his gnashing teeth. He could feel the cartilage in his knose knitting back together, rolling and twisting under his skin, building incredible pressure until finally, there was an audible [i]crack[/i] and his nose was righted but not without a final cry of pain coming from the fighter as his nose repaired itself.

Deon took a couple of moments to himself, feeling the white-hot sting of reminescing pain from his nose (also vaguely aware of the same warming sensation in his knee and nether regions) before he sniffed and righted his posture, giving himself a quick look in the mirror. When all he could see were unfamiliar, ghostly-yellow eyes looking back at him, Deon tore himself away and walked to the opposite corner, digging through a small pile of clothes before finding an old, white wife-beater and slipped it on. If he wasn't going to be doing any more fighting tonight, he might as well see what spoils The Spit had to offer him tonight - whether it be by drug-trade or by women. Either way, he wasn't going to find out for another while yet, not with that BoD Agent lingering around.

His yellow eyes landed back on the shelf where he kept the alcohol and pill bottles, landing on a particular container he kept his preferred drug of choice in, but again, there wasn't any way he'd be snorting anything with that agent around, so instead he grabbed a cigarette from it's box and with his opposite hand, the lighter that went with it and left his room, only to take an immediate right through the fire-exit he used frequently to avoid the crowds whenever he wasn't in the mood to entertain.

The cool night air graced his warm skin, the few, sprinkling droplets of what was the beginning of rain misting his toned skin like a gentle, almost-shower. It was... refreshing, for lack of a better word, and calmed him down enough to relax his back against the brick wall, perch his cigarette between his lips and light it up with a slow, deep inhale.

Only when he had stuffed the lighter into his pants pocket did he realize that he wasn't the only one in the back alley-way. It was hard to tell in the dimly lit area, but he was almost certain a girl was standing against the opposite wall, looking somewhat lost or maybe she was just high as fuck on something. Either way, it caused a smirk to cross over his lips as they held his cigarette in place. Perhaps there was a way for him to get what he wanted after all.

"Hey!" he called, unsure how loud he should be given their undetermined state, though it was better to be loud and heard than not. "If you're trying to make a statement by looking like me, you forgot to shave the other side of your head!"