/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.
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"Stupid fucker." he chuckled to himself. "And I wonder why I like ta drink down in this dump."
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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.
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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.]
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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?
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As fine as ever, so long as ye ain't around.
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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.]
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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.]
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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.]
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