HEY CoW, WAKE THE FECK UP!

[not_a_liberator]

/STAGGERS OUT INTO THE STREET, PISS DRUNK AND YELLING TO HIMSELF

/clumsily knocks over a trash bin in the process, practically tripping himself

Th' feck--

/vision swimming, he sees a news vendor in the distance. Thinking it to be Fontaine, he furiously punts the trash can out of his path as he stumbles over to it, grabbing it and shaking it.

Comments

[bigbaldbronco]

[From across the street, he watches the drunken buffoon, an overly-amused smirk playing on his lips. With a casual flick the ashes from his cigar explode like a miniature firework on the bottom of the ashtray. The ice in his glass shifts, the man taking a sip of the golden alcohol, gaze never leaving the poor man's attempts to throttle a newsstand.]

"Stupid fucker." he chuckled to himself. "And I wonder why I like ta drink down in this dump."

[not_a_liberator]

SLUGBUCKET--
LANGER--

/stops abruptly, giving the device a final shake before before scrutinizing it through the shifting clarity of his vision

...wait.

...s'ain't Fontaine...

/fumbles backwards, somewhat embarrassed in his drunken stupor but more so dismayed than anything that is isn't him. Quickly glancing around, he's relieved barely anyone is around to notice him. That is, until his eyes land on Fontaine.

I think I like this icon too much...

[bigbaldbronco]

[Keeping Atlas' gaze proved to be no problem, despite the man's intoxication. Without a word, though it was unlikely the Irishman would have heard him even if he shouted, Fontaine took a drag on the cigar, leaning back in his chair as if he owned the world. His thoughts breifly shifted from the amusing sight, to the plamsid power in his left hand and the switchblade in his right pants pocket. Thoughts to Atlas again, he sneered, a bold and taunting 'come and get me.']

It's pretty much Fontaine's default expression. (Also, apologies for shitty reply )

[not_a_liberator]

[Atlas had long grown silent in terrific embarrassment, sending a glower to the man across the way. He tried to mentally collect himself the best he could, waiting for his vision to clear completely and inwardly insisting that perhaps he could still do something about Fontaine while not exactly in the rightest of mind.

The way Fontaine remained so poised came as no surprise to Atlas. Still, his challenging expression sparked something inside of him. Much like a fuse that proved to brush off the embarrassment of the minutes before. Mostly ignored, the shillelagh attached to the back of his belt suddenly felt heavy and yet as his hand twitched for it, he caught himself. Civil. He insisted. Be civil. The oncoming frustration began to make his head pound, but he ignored it for the most part as he made is way over.]

Pfft I think my reply is worse.

[bigbaldbronco]

[With an eye on Atlas, he called the waitress over. After a quick pinch on her ass, he made an example of taking more then a hundred dollars out of his wallet and hand them to her as pay and tip. While it was way above the price of the liquor he drank, the knowledge he was practically throwing away more money in a sitting then Atlas saw in two weeks was a rather satisfying thought.

He purposely watched the drunken man for several more minutes before donning his coat and hat, and stepping out onto the street. He lit a fresh cigar with incinerate, a dangerous and subtle reminder for Atlas, never taking his eyes off him. With a sneer curling his mouth he spoke.]

How's the wife, paddy?

I like how randomly srs this got.

[not_a_liberator]

[Atlas stopped a few feet from Fontaine, though not out of concern for his plasmid arsenal. If that was the way he was going to play, then so be it. It wasn't as though Fontaine had ever been above that.]

As fine as ever, so long as ye ain't around.

Me too, espicially how were normally so cracky.

[bigbaldbronco]

[As he chuckled, smoke slipped from between his lips and his nose like a sleeping dragon. Fontaine flicked the ashes at Atlas' feet.]

Good ta know shes in fine health as I've only ever seen her twice. Why a beauty like that married a drunken lowlife like you astounds me.

[No subtle quips, no tiny jabs. He was outright trying to rile the man. So sure of his position this potentially dangerous game didn't worry him in teh slightest.]

Gotta balance that shit out, I guess.

[not_a_liberator]

[Atlas felt his moment of clarity running dry, the thundering in his head reminding him he was still tinged with inebriation. He'd have loved nothing more than to whack the chump until his head caved in. Instead he moved in swiftly, ripping the cigar from Fontaine's mouth. He took a long drag on it before disdainfully blowing the smoke back into his face.]

The times I ain't been around do count, Fontaine, so feck ye. Take yer feckin' corruption and stay the hell away from me wife. I ain't afraid o' havein' to deal with ye.

[Leaning out, he hawked a wad of spit at Fontaine and flicked the cigar to his feet, the lit end scattering into embers.]

I guess so....

[bigbaldbronco]

[He flicked his eyebrows up, until they disappeared under the brim of his hat, in playful amusement. So the rat could talk tough, but of course, he didn't have the pleasure of owning plasmids that prevented him from full drunkenness that Fontaine did. with a casual swipe, he wiped the spit from his overcoat and brushed it onto Atlas' worn shirt.]

Ain't afraid huh?

[His eyes flashed, face splitting into a horrible grin. The bald man kicked the cigar away.]

Rat's belong in the sewers. Lemme help ya get back down there.

[Quick as a flash, he landed a punch right under the jaw.]

whoops

[not_a_liberator]

[Atlas staggered backwards, hand instinctively finding his cheek. He grimaced, testing his jaw. Then chose not to acknowledge the spit or the remark as he fumbled for his shillelagh. Enough games, enough fucking around. Retrieving it from his belt, he made a sweep for Fontaine's legs.]