tampered | BAR FIGHT!

BAR FIGHT!

When; November 10
Rating; PG-13 for brawling and language
Characters; Whoever wants to be at a skeezy bar in the Underground
Summary; Chekov and Uhura are at a skeezy bar. Shenanigans happen and a brawl ensues.
Log; Uhura needs a drink. Badly.

It's been a rough day. Week. Month, if she's going to be honest about it. She doesn't have a job. Her housemates are driving her crazy. She's bored. And she misses Spock.

So yes, she needs a drink. And since she really doesn't feel like being hit on by guys who assume she's looking for a date because she's alone, she drags Chekov along.

Time to get her mind off her troubles.

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[Chekov and Uhura are sitting in a corner booth, a pitcher of beer between them. Come talk!]

[And Charlie's sitting at a booth nearby, plate of cheesy french fries nearby and a notepad. She's reading over it, sorting through receipts in an envelope and checking things off.

And there's a half consumed bottle of Pumpkin Ale, too, that she sips at on occasion.

Wedding planning is hard ok.]

[Chekov waves at Charlie.]

Charlie! You will need something better than that [he points to the pumpkin ale] to get you through the weekend!

[Charlie looks over at Pavel and grins, holding up her bottle and the list.]

I'm not looking to get through the weekend. Just this. And then the rest of the week until Wednesday.

[Uhura is carrying another pitcher of beer back to their booth when she sees Chekov and Charlie talking.]

What's going on Wednesday?

A wedding.

[He's distracted by the beer.]

How much have you had to drink already?

[Oh. Stranger. Okay. Eh, she's a friend of Pavel's, far as Charlie can tell. So, sure. Why not?]

I'm getting married.

[Proud, ridiculous grin goes here.]

Hi. I'm Charlie.

[to Pavel] Not nearly enough yet.

[But she smiles at Charlie]

Nyota. It's nice to meet you.

[She slides into the seat across from Charlie.] And congratulations. Who's the lucky guy?

[to Uhura] I should remind you that I'm not capable of carrying you home.

[He helps himself to more beer which, while unappealing, is more relevant to his interests than weddings.]

Merlin. I don't know if you've met him. [Charlie decides against working on her list for a while, closing it and setting the pen down beside it. She didn't want to worry about wedding plans, for the moment. There were new friends to make.]

Afraid not. Is he from your world?

[Closed to Chekov, Uhura, and Crowley]

[The bar is crowded, the beer is dreadful, and Chekov is absolutely certain that none of the men eying Uhura are convinced that she's with him. Not that he is, technically, but it was a decent plan and worth a try.]

Uhura? I'm not sure that this is working.

[The beer's not that bad, or at least Uhura's had enough of it that she doesn't care anymore.]

Nobody's tried to talk me up yet. Seems to be working just fine to me.

[The big problem here is that beer is not vodka and, as such, Chekov has not had enough to convince himself that it's good.]

They are looking at you. Should I try looking at them threateningly?

[She's drunk enough to snort out loud at that idea.]

No, that's all right.

[Ah, laughter! This is much better than the angry Uhura who has been fighting with Howl.]

You doubt my ability to be imposing, I see.

No, of course not.

[She pats his hand reassuringly, but her giggling smile gives away the lie.]

You are very, very imposing.

[ooc: Great point for Crowley to jump in, I think!]

[Crowley is quite the connoisseur of City drinking establishments and this one was his choice for the night. So far it's been terribly disappointing, but he sees potential in the unlikely pair who came in together.

Moving to a nearer table, he pricks up his ears and eavesdrops shamelessly but unobtrusively. It's almost too easy to give one of the drunker, more boorish patrons a subliminal suggestion that the unreasonably hot woman sitting with a kid barely out of short pants clearly isn't there for a date.

Then he sits back to enjoy the show as the man gets more and more intrusive.]

[When Uhura fails to punch the man who appears to be making clumsy advances at her (perhaps she feels he's an easy target and punching him wouldn't be fair?), Chekov pushes aside his beer. He'll show this guy imposing.

Although, when standing toe-to-toe with him, Chekov realizes that his foe has well over a foot and who-knows-how-many pounds on his side. Still.]

She is not interested.

[Oh, yeah. Chekov's five feet and seven inches of curly-haired intimidation. Only not.]

[Oh for the love of -- Uhura has no time for drunken leches or schoolboy heroics. She kicks Chekov in the shin -- possibly harder than necessary.]

She can speak for herself.

[to the drunk]

And the answer is no.

[The man wheedles.]

What language do I have to speak for you to understand that "no" means "no". Nein. Non.

[The drunk mutters some curses and finally starts to retreat]

[Chekov yelps like a kicked puppy--something that surely isn't helping him retain those remaining shreds of dignity--but sits down and lets Uhura fight her own fight.]

[And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the sound of sardonic clapping from Crowley's table. Wow, he's right next to them. He must have moved while they were occupied.]

My, yes, that is an impressive display of masculinity. The boy, not so much, but you? [He points at Uhura] Well done.

[Another one? Uhura turns to Crowley.]

This isn't any of your business.

[She's really not in the mood for witty sparring.]

[He takes a casual drink of his beer and raises an eyebrow.]

If you don't want your business on display, don't come to a public establishment. What's the deal with the kid? [Indicating Chekov with a jerk of his chin in his direction.] Charity? Did you lose a bet? Do you just like being better than your "date"? [And lo, there are fingerquotes.]

[Chekov is seriously considering the pros and cons of punching Crowley in the face in the presence of a superior officer. Pros: it would be immensely satisfying. Cons: Uhura would be angry (well, angrier) and, should Crowley happen to be a better fighter than--

Screw the cons. He puts his beer down with more force than is strictly necessary and gets up.]

Edited 2012-11-13 23:30 (UTC)

[Oh hell no, Chekov. You're not getting involved in this. Uhura grabs his shoulder and unceremoniously shoves him back in his seat.]

You picked a bad night, sir.

[She swings her fist and punches him straight in the face.]

[There's a solid crunch and Crowley's head snaps back.] Ow.

[He hates when that happens, but hey, the oaf his attacker rebuffed is still there, still drunk, and easily angered. Crowley lets his chair tip all the way back and lays back to watch things erupt.]

[She would go after him, but the oaf is back, and she has to duck quickly to avoid getting punched in the face.]

[FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT! Fists are flying who cares where!]

[Chekov, being rather petite, isn't a brawler (although he's reasonably sure that drunken brawls were invented in Russia), especially when superior officers are present. In this case, however, his superior officer is the one who began the fight; that's practically permission to start punching people.

Would anyone like to get in the way?]

[The last thing Neil wants is to get involved in a fight. He just wanted a drink... or three. He's slender, but strong and he used to kick people around when he could. Still, he isn't sure about joining. Then he sees a familiar face.]

Pavel? Hey, it's Neil.

[They've only met over the network, but hey, he recognizes the guy. Then someone swings at a man near the bar. The man goes down and takes Neil with him. Ouch]

[Chekov dodges a punch meant for him and, after making sure he's in no immediate danger, greets Neil rather casual.]

Hello, Neil. You chose a bad night for drinking.

[Which becomes all the more true when Neil's taken down. Chekov rolls the man off of him.]

Now would be a good time to leave.

What the hell is going on?

[He stands with the help of a table and kicks at the man who'd attacked him.]

You haven't started a fight, have you?

[Quiet pavel? No...]

Me? Start a fight?

[Look at this face. Is this the kind of face that would lie? No.]

It was my superior who began it.

[Neil laughs and hugs himself as a bit of pain reveals itself.]

Ow, my ribs...

[He looks down at the man who flattened him.]

Stupid fucker... So, does that mean we get to finish it?

Edited 2012-11-29 18:36 (UTC)

I cannot encourage anyone to fight, especially someone who may be injured.

[He ducks a wild punch and, with a swift sweeping motion, drops the man attached to the punching hand.]

But, given the advanced state of this fight, I see no alternative.

Hey, nice move, Pavel!

So, do we fight our way out or fight until the last one of these shits is down?

[Oh shit somebody called the cops! Everybody run!]

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BAR FIGHT!

PRE-FIGHT MINGLE

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THE BRAWL BEGINS

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THE BRAWL

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THE COPS ARE COMING!