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An amused grin play over Zeke's lips as he listened to the shouted exchange, but as Ever's features sobered, and a hand cocked back, he was suddenly moving forward.

It was probably fortunate that fist missed, but all the same, the Lifer would still feel an arm loop around his waist, bodily lifting him off his feet to pull him away from the other man and the mini cages. He kept moving until they were on the other side of the bar, then set Ever back on his feet.

All while keeping a careful hold on his white russian.

Ever didn't fight Zeke much, at least, some ingrained instinct making him malleable in his grasp -- but he did gesture, frantically, spilling the rest of his drink as he did. "Grab Tubs --"

Lawr did not complain in the least, stepping aside for Zeke with an obliging nod.

Butch was furious, and yet Lawr was not even sure why. No one had been harmed, nothing had frankly happened at all. The canine or at least canine approximation was always difficult to comprehend.

"Such hostility pardners." he said, before moving back to sit at the bar, shaking his head. "A cowboy can't even shoot the breeze without bein' branded an outlaw."

Tubadiah was giving considering look before Zeke went to deposit the pet in America's arms. He didn't say anything, just flashed her a friendly smile before giving Paige a pinch on the side in parting.

Returning to Ever, he held his hand out for his drink, half expecting it to be nothing but ice and dredges.

Whereas America seemed to have taken the interruption in stride, Taym was as taut under her hand as a cat just on the verge of pouncing, and it wasn't until Tubadiah was deposited into her arms--he gave Zeke a flat and appraising and unimpressed look, possibly because he'd have liked to see Ever break Lawrence's nose uninterrupted--that he loosened, and then only marginally.

Whatever goodwill moment of flirtatious sociability had been in evidence a moment before, it had dissipated now, but he didn't move to leave her. He just abandoned active conversation, eyes fixed on Lawrence in glare as murderous as America's. He wasn't even distracted by Tubadiah's sadface, which suggested critical levels of focus, but he didn't do anything. He just watched, oblivious to Paige and Cee and America and the treat for a long, long moment before his attention snapped back and he said nothing at all, just pulled America up against side a little too firmly.

"Go get me a drink, Cee," he said, in a tone that made it impossible to fathom whether he was joking or actually expected that to work.

Cee's eyes narrowed but she did have a soft spot for Taym. And she owed him for the bathroom.

"Whaddyou want? Beer? or some fruity s**t... or am I sposed ta get you like scotch on the rocks cause yer like a hundred."

"Bones?" Jack sighed. "Oh this will just be a fun story, I just know it." Adding alcohol to either of their diets right now would be disastrous—though admittedly it was also because Jack wanted to save some more whiskey for himself tonight—but a visit would be paid.

Smugly saluting Peyton for her contribution, he snagged the shot glass that came his way and downed it with a slight grimace. The world was now a comfortable blur if he moved his head too fast, distant and colorful. "Yeah, AK's tooootally been practicing," Jack said with a lazy grin. "Practicing gettin' white girl drunk, that is. I have pictures, ahahaha..." But hey, the more people drank the merrier, right? Everyone ought to be on his birthday, most especially him.

It was starting to kick in, too. One moment he was leaning against the bar, the next Jack was getting toted off, Finn was gone (Jack swore he managed to say a "later man I mean woman I mean yeah later" somewhere in there, or maybe that was his imagination) and had messaged him to meet up in a few, aaaand now he was face to face with drunk Chel, Chris, and mother's basement Shaggy. Not the combo he was looking for right ********' rude," he told Abbi with a pointed look. "******** if I'll buy you anymore drinks if y'gonna be like that." Still with that lazy grin, he turned to the other group and lifted his mug, his fingers partially obscuring the words SHOE GODDESS carved into it. "Yo~ Happy Halloween n' happy birthday to me n' s**t. So who's the fatass?"

Dawson, who had been about to answer Chel and Chris, promptly shut his mouth and tugged at his cap. "Uh. No-one, just, uh, leavin'..." He sensed a Situation and wanted to find Syn and get out.