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[color=ff0040]Interactions[/color] Bea Harmon [@Sincerely], Sidney Jones [NPC] Self-insert your character | [color=ff0040]TW[/color] [i]Language, violent imagery, [b]violence in general[/b], obscene names[/i][/color][/sub]
[color=ff0040]【[/color] [sub][color=BFAFB2] fuck off, jones [/color][/sub] [color=ff0040]】[/color][/right]
[center][color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [color=#ff0040]☆[/color] ☆ [/center]
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The night started out exciting; the buzzing atmosphere that accompanied an establishment such as The Pit was always comforting for the ever flighty Darcy. Her trip to the land of snow with Wonderland over there finally getting to that crest where she can just... relaxing into the high, let it take her wherever and she would gladly follow without hesitation. What was once going to be an evening devoid of harsh vibes and reality - aside from harping on Lolly's dates and Jed - was now being shattered by the jarring motion of someone gripping her denim clad shoulder and whipping her around about face.

Even before she was being jerked around like a limp dick, just at the mere touch of an unwelcome hand on her was enough to create a chink in her high armor. The hand holding onto her nearly empty bottle of beer was swinging in time with her and she ended up smashing it across the offenders head, the bottle shattering on impact. An irate slew of words began to follow after contact. [color=#b14e4e][b]"You fucking bitch!"[/b][/color] [i]Ah, there he was, that bastard.[/i] Disheveled from his own personal aesthetics, coupled with the curdling cream liquor - from what she could only ascertain was from Bea's drink - and now, grease laced locks dripping with the remnants of the lager she had been sipping on; all greeted her with a fury that was only matched by her own. The onyx chips behind those atrocious shades glared harder as if to pierce through her ribs and into her soul did nothing but make her grin. [color=#b14e4e]"First you get your little hood skank to spit on me?! Then you smash a fucking bottle over my head?! Darce what's your damage?"[/color]

The sight of him alone - [i]without the added amenities of liquids dripping from his frame[/i] - was enough to make her want to Ralph all over the concreted floors of The Pit. [i]It wouldn't be much of an addition to the unknown concoction that already coated these floors, but who was she to complain?[/i] And with every word that seemed to flow from his overly chapped and thin lips was not helping the situation in the slightest. As if licking them was going to make it any better. Still held up in his grip, one that was progressively getting tighter with every syllable from him, and now even more so with every beat of silence that passed between them, Darcy began to spit venom of her own. [color=#ff0040]"The fuck do you think you are [i]Sidney[/i]? A god among men? Please, all Bea did was elevate your status from cockroach to trash rat,"[/color] with a particularly hard thrust, she attempted to push at him to try and loosen his hold on her, but he was still stronger.

Sidney's grip only seemed to constrict around her forearm even more, to the point where she would be surprised if the skin under his grasp was left unblemished. She knew that that wouldn't be the case, but a girl can hope. [color=#ff0040]"Let go!"[/color] Her tough persona was slowly being chipped away and all he had done was spout off a few nasty words and grab her and hold on tight. Darcy's high was no longer cultivating that ultimate [i]feel good[/i] vibe that she was riding at the beginning of the night. No, now it was beginning to morph and mutate into something she couldn't recognize. [color=#ff0040][i]No, that's not it.[/i][/color] It was definitely something she had experienced before. Something she always experienced when [i]he[/i] was around. When his musky, mildew scent would curl around her and bury itself into her spine. The bitter toxicity that accompanied them when the two were ever together for something other than sex. In a panic, Darcy started to yank her limbs away from him, mind fogged with any real solution to getting him off of her and quickly.

She had hoped, eyes frantically searching the bar area for a familiar face - it shouldn't have been difficult, they were all there within her grasp - yet she couldn't seem to find the words to ask for assistance. Not like she would. This was ultimately her problem. She didn't want them to have to deal with his shit more than they already had. He was [i]her[/i] problem. [color=#ff0040][i][b]"Fuck off, Jones!"[/b][/i][/color] It happened in slow motion and Darcy wasn't exactly sure if that was because of the drugs and the booze or if it was just from the sheer shock of it all. Sid's free hand had come up and connected with left side of her face with enough force that her body fell into the motion and took her to the ground. From there her vision swam, noises were growing louder but were muddled, like she was placed head first under the water in the tub.

She was screaming, that much she knew, but she couldn't place the words spewing from her busted lip. All she knew was her vision was fuzzy - at best - and that she could taste copper on her tongue. The remnants of hops and wheat and rye clinging to the inside of her mouth, easily over powered by the metallic ichor that currently took up residency there. Darcy was vaguely aware that someone had helped her to her feet, her arm finally freed from Sid's grasp, but tender and raw nonetheless. Her blue gaze soon locked onto the greasy mass of matted hair and before she or anyone else for that matter could react or register what was happening, Darcy unleashed a well placed kick to his nuts.

Sidney crumpled to his knees, hands already in position to shield himself from any further potential attacks to his groin. [color=#ff0040]"Get the fuck back up! [i]Piece of shit, loser![/i]"[/color] Darcy yelled at the man beneath her, readying herself for a harder attack, only to feel the weight of others surrounding the two of them. When had they made their way towards the back of the bar? She hadn't even realized she wasn't anywhere near the bar top when this entire exchange took place. Hands were on her, with what she could only assume was an attempt at restraining her, voices coming into focus along with her eye sight. Her lip was most definitely busted and bleeding, and the side of her face was already starting to shift in color. Even under the awful lighting The Pit provided, she was sure that anyone would be able to place what it was that now adorned her skin. The current set of hands that held her up were familiar and all she wanted to do was relax into them and just rekindle the high that was lost. But wishes don't come true for people of Oceanside. At least not in the ways that one would hope to expect. 

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