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 Posted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 9:29 pm
Nye had a clever frown plastered on his face. They could compile and be a set of drama masks! Woo!
Not really.
Whatever Butch was using to provoke Nye was working, most definitely. Obviously this man lived a reality a little too close to an old mafia film than what Nye would like to be used to. Still, there needed to be an end to all of this pointlessness and seeing the man's face prowling about. "Actually, I drove her to work because I was scared you'd be here, and lo and behold! Here it stands, immeasurable angered and on the verge of turning into the hulk." As tempting as it was to cross his arms, he didn't. That was like, rule one of self-defense.
"What do you mean by training, anyways? I need more reason to punch your lights out."
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Posted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 9:38 pm
Butch's grin had grown. A punch up, ah, now that he could deal with. He was expecting it thise time, unlike the night before, and the bulging blob of muscles proved that he could most likely do well in one. No, he wasn't afraid of Nye besting him this time. He looked twiggy, anyway.
"Scared's the right word, punk." Butch had obviously taken it as a compliment to his, well, scary-ness. His buzz-cut head reflected the parking lot lights. The Hulk comment seemed to have been missed. Punching out a laugh - a quite obnoxious, nasty sound - Butch shook his head.
"Oh, so you -haven't- ******** her yet. She's tiny, mate, and we all know what that means. Cleans like a treat too, afterwards. Won't be giving you the chance to find out though, I don't want to see your pastey-a** face near her again."
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Posted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 9:50 pm
Well, Nye knew well enough from the very moment Butch opened his mouth that not many books, if any, had gone into that man's 'eddicashun' at all. Did no one teach that oversized baby the phrase, "Don't judge a book by its cover?"
The calm mask on Nye's face seemed to crack significantly upon Butch's last comment. His frown deepened, creases forming on his forehead and eyebrows moving closer together in what was frustration at fist, and rage fifteen seconds later. "So you're implying tha-- ... you're despicable!"
Before Nye even realized it, his fist had made a harsh impact with the other side of Butch's jaw. And it felt good. Oh, it felt damn good to punch that a*****e's lights out.
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Posted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 9:58 pm
Butch had been about to continue, no doubt to say something else sexually perverse and disgusting, yet he wasn't given the chance. Quick as a flash, Nye's fist have smacked into his jaw. Butch might have been big and strong but fast he was not. He hadn't time to dodge and stumbled back a few steps, a short yell escaping from his mouth. Gods damn, he was going to have another bruise to match the first.
Butch saw red. With a bellow he rushed straight at Nye, arm back and intending to swing right at the pretty-boy's face. He was aiming for the eye; previous knowledge told him that a sock there would make it puff up and half blind him, giving Butch the advantage.
[[Sorry it's short XD]]
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:13 am
You know that feeling you get when you're right about to go over the top of a very high roller coaster, or that look poor little Simba gets when the stampede comes at him? Nye sort of felt like that when he saw the big mass of man rush at him, obviously not too pleased with the aggression.
I won't lie. Nye froze up a bit, even though he had enough time to dodge, so when he tried to, Butch's punch hit him right where was intended and sent him staggering into his own car. That sure evened it up.
Though Nye's eye didn't puff up right away, it sure did hurt. Took a lot of concentration to get back up to standing upright and to send another well-aimed punch to Butch's ribcage. High school was slowly coming back to him, after all.
"I don't expect you to think on your own, but I'm going to process this for you. If you lay a hand on her again, a restraining order is the least of your worries."
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:22 am
The hulk was feeling smug. Smug that the tiny man hadn't managed to dodge his attack. Ha. He'd almost been worried after that first slug that he might miss yet there the punk was, pissing himself on the floor.
Yeah. Butch's mind isn't quite on the same level as reality. Kinda obvious, I know, but we can all see Nye's certainly not urinating on any level.
That he'd missed the perfect oppertunity to kick the living daylights out of Nye when he was down. The thought just hadn't reached him fast enough, unfortunately. What did reach him, however, was Nye's second punch, hitting straight where the one from the previous day had. Ouch.
Feeling the wind go out of him Butch doubled over, but not before reaching out to grab at Nye's shirt. A sharp upper-cut was heading his way as soon as...the wind came back..."Ain't yours...to say that about, asswipe." He managed to spit out. "I'll do what I ******** want with with that slut and no pissant's going to stop me." And there came the punch.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:31 am
Nye was a bit more ready that time, but not quite fast enough. The uppercut hit him square in the chest, although thankfully missing his face. An already swelling bruise on his eye was enough for one night, thank you very much, but having the wind knocked straight out of him wasn't pleasant either.
It took a bit of coughing to get it all back, but Nye was already sick of this ridiculous fight. He would lose unless he played his cards right, and the quickest way to end it before somebody saw was... well, right in his pocket.
Nye's hand reached behind him and pulled out a shining black handgun, pointing it expertly at Butch's forehead. "She's not mine, but she's not yours either, I can tell you that." He noticed his voice was still slightly wind-less, to put it so. Nye decided that, for effect, taking the safety off was a good idea. And so he took it off with a short click. A little more confidently that time, he said, "If I see you near her, or she tells me that you came within a hundred meters of her, I will not hesitate to shoot your pea-sized brains out onto some dark parking lot."
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:39 am
Hearing his opponant out of breath, Butch was about to go in for the kill when he saw the gun. He pulled up short - the night was a dark one and he hadn't spotted the gun at first - and stared at Nye as if the other man were crazy. Huh. Talk about ironic.
"You wouldn't ******** dare." He spat out, though did move back an inch or so. "You haven't the guts to - s**t, you're serious!" Ah, it was amazing how such a little sound such as the saftey switch could make such a difference. Hatred welled behind Butch's beady eyes. Oh there was no way in hell he was about to leave them alone but he couldn't very well say that now, could he? No, he'd go after Ivie when Nye wasn't about and he'd make damn well sure the girl wouldn't talk.
Couldn't talk.
Nah, he wouldn't do that. She was too good to just throw away. Scare her shitless perhaps but - wait, there was still a gun being pulled on him. Snarling a little in Nye's direction but not replying, Butch slunk backwards into the dark. He'd back off for now, for the night even. It'd only be a matter of time before he was back.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 7:51 am
Nye had the gun up until he was sure that Butch had retreated into the darkness. Pulling the safety switch back on and shoving the gun back in his pocket, Nye began to get dressed again. His peacoat felt oddly uncomfortable and he didn't even bother with the scarf, just threw it in the passenger seat and climbed in to drive home.
The engine seemed abnormally loud and provoked a headache in his skull, and it made it troublesome to think of anything else aside from driving. He was sure that he probably got onto the sidewalk at least once, or ran over some squirrel or ran a stop light, because there were times he blanked out completely.
Staggering out of the car, keys in hand, Nye slammed the door, locked with with a little tweet of the alarm, and began to walk back to his apartment building. He felt even too tired to take the stairs as he usually did, and once inside, opted for the elevator to the third floor. Lizzie was already asleep when he opened the door, and not having someone greet him upon entering made Nye even more cranky for some reason.
Heading straight to the fridge, Nye's countertop was soon covered in various pain relievers and about three ice packs that he cleverly tied to himself in all the right places before deciding between Tylenol, Advil, or clean-on Ibuprofen.
Whichever one he took he couldn't recall, but in the morning, once his annoyingly loud alarm clock woke him from a deep sleep, it seemed to be gone for the most part.
He was scared to look in the mirror as he picked out his clothes for work.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:11 am
Blissfully unaware of what had taken place around midnight, Ivie started her shift and worked through it with little to no incidents, bedpans aside. At seven am the next morning she'd wobble out the door - Butch no-where in sight - and snooze on one of the early busses on her way home. Once there, well, she wouldn't see the light of day until at least noon, probably more like two that afternoon. Such was the nocturnal life~
Three more days of winter break. Gods she needed sleep.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:24 am
The bell rang as the door to Salon Antionette was opened and Nye walked in quietly, pain relievers taking up space in his pocket alongside with his glasses and contacts cases.
Jean-Pierre turned around to greet Nye and tell him to start setting up, but he didn't even get the good morning out. "Sacre bleu! Nye! Your face! Eet ees discolored! What happened?"
A bit frustrated, Nye waved him off and began hanging his coat up on the coat rack. He felt at least three people staring at the back of his head, and once he turned around to go to his station to set up, there was an unsynchronized chorus of gasps. Danielle held her hand over her mouth, not knowing what to say about this new development, while Tim said, "Nye Hemmingway! What the hell happened to your face? You're gonna scare off customers!"
Allison's only remark was, "Your face... is bruised..."
Even angrier, Nye slammed his cutting shears on his station countertop and began tidying up loudly. A few of the other people working in the salon mumbled among each other, trying to make it seem not obvious that they were talking about Nye's otherwise gorgeous face. He felt that the pain was more important than the bruise itself, but obviously others disagreed.
At least the swelling wasn't as bad, right?
Jean-Pierre walked around timidly, trying to check out the bruise from a distance. Nye spotted him through the mirror a few times, trying to appear nonchalant, but enough was enough.
"Next person who asks or stares is getting a matching one."
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 8:36 am
It was three days until Ivie heard anything from Nye. Her thoughts wandered to him on occasion - odd, that, though she brushed it off as her just being fond of him - yet she didn't want to bother him by calling. He seemed a pretty busy person...dates, and all those women she kept hearing about. No, better she keep her distance, especially after that display with Butch. She didn't want to seem needy, after all.
She worked the second day - another all nighter that left her lounging in bed at noon on the Friday. She had the weekend off, a small blessing, so there was really no inclination to move. Weak sunlight streamed through the curtains onto her face, not strong enough to be uncomfortable yet enough to warm. The heating rumbled outside in the living room. Clad in Mickey Mouse PJs and warm in bed, Ivie was content to doze.
Now something was bound to come along and spoil the peace.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 9:36 am
Over those three days, Nye was bored out of his mind. He was determined to cover up any traces of the bruises with home-made remedies and things he found on the internet, but few of them did much. He drew the line at remedy number thirty-five, mainly because it had to do with a raw steak on his eye. He could open his eye all the way now, and that was good with him.
Instinctively, Nye picked up his phone and flipped it open to text Ivie, but he stopped himself. What would she say about his eye? The chest bruise was hidden by his clothing, but hiding the eye would be making it even more obvious. The phone closed, and was put down.
On his way out of the bathroom (he had to wash his hands after touching raw meat, after all), the phone was picked up again and flipped open, then closed, then flipped open again. Nye wasn't exactly good with dealing with temptation, so calling her... was very tempting.
A few buttons later, Nye began texting another proposition to Ivie. He really could not resist spending his Saturday out with her. That, and he was slightly worried.
"I'm in the mood to try on random clothes. How about hanging out at the shopping center today?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2008 6:00 pm
She'd been dreaming. Something about pink balloons and needles that floated through a purple sky. Everything popped as her new text message alert - a rather obnoxious 'ding dong!' rang through the room. A groan accompanied the eye that open and, half blind with sleep, Ivie's hand reached out and groped the bed-side table for the beeping machine. Stupid thing. She should have turned it off.
Green eyes looked at the text message for a few moments before she got the message. Shopping? She didn't need to go shopping, not really, yet it Nye wanted company...
The buttons on the phone were far too small of her state of mind right now so Ivie simply hit the 'Call' button instead, Nye's number flashing on the screen as the ring tone, well, rang.
"Nye?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 11:22 am
Nye wasn't expecting a call as he attempted to follow Ivie's advice and dust his living room and pick up whatever he had left there the night before. He wasn't exactly great at keeping up with the cleaning, but the fact that a 25-year-old man who lives alone with his dog is willing to try is already something.
Lizzie started yapping when Nye's loud ringtone went off- one of those synthesized jazzy defaults. Nye himself even jumped a little bit in surprise, almost knocking over a small dog ceramic with his feather duster. Post-momentary chaos, he reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out timidly. The caller ID flashed Ivie's name at him, and, curiously, he flipped open the phone.
"Afternoon, Ivie! I assume this means you got my message?"
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