more bob dylan; STORM FRONT part 1

[somerset]

where: in the city / when: at night / what: too much rain.

" some people feel the rain
other people just get wet. "

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[bodies]

[He neither runs nor relents when he feels the force pushing him back, placing his strength into another shove, whether or not there's enough left in him for it to work. He should consider the fact that there is no one around to aid him in this fight (or bear witness to the fact that Perhin was unjustifiably provoked, should it escalate), but the same goes for Strauss, doesn't it.]

What is it you want? [The emphasis is placed with a scratch in his voice, thundering over the storm with pure contempt.] Money?

[menacing]

[ The second shove breaks the force behind Strauss's push and soon it's obvious that Strauss isn't trying to remove the other man's weight from pinning his arms back - he's going to start needing to get the force off his chest. The wood isn't just against his arms - it's across his ribs as well, pushing them both back against the wall in another firm shove that leaves Strauss hissing and rattling for breath between his teeth.

He isn't one for talking in a fight but there's enough in him to choke out a few words, spit and rainwater included: ]

You're on my street.

[ Although the money wouldn't hurt, truth be told. And Strauss isn't above fighting dirty - with his words delivered he goes for what he really hopes is going to get the other man off his chest: a heavy knee to the groin. ]

[bodies]

Was I? How - barbaric of me. [He tilts his head, muscles tense from the effort, riding on the upper hand until he decides what to do with Strauss.] You must forgive m--

[Until there's a kick to the groin. Beluae get the same sensations from it any other human man would, in case anyone ever wondered - regrettably so, in this case - so what follows is a natural result of just that. Strauss is freed from the force pushing against him, but those stubborn hands just won't let the damn weapon go.]

[menacing]

[ In another time and circumstance Strauss would have pressed home the advantage - a kick to the stomach, a knee smashed against the forehead - but between the burning in his chest and the worryingly 'other' quality of the man's scent Strauss merely struggles away.

He doesn't run - not in any situation - but once he's free of the other man's weight he stumbles a few feet away then turns back. Heaving in great, rasping gulps of air and massaging his chest with one hand he leans one-handedly on his knees, eyeing the stranger from between bedraggled curtains of long hair. The baseball bat is lost to the other man, but Strauss is happy just to be breathing again. ]

Go -- get out of here.

[bodies]

[Where Perhin had been mocking him before - aggravated, but still mocking - he is simply unhappy. The bat is thrown far away enough to force the other to run off to get it back, leaving nothing but space and the heavy rain between them for now. He waits, breathing in and out through his teeth, hair out of place, clothes stained by blood and weighed down by water. He is a perfectly disarranged picture of formality irritably thinking about how he'll have to make a discreet return to his property.]

Do you know... who I am?