Bartholomew
Bart doesn’t much care where his punch lands, though there’s a juvenile satisfaction in giving the brat a well-earned Charlie horse. The flailing fist glances off the point of his shoulder, and Bart rolls with it just enough to minimize the sting before he’s shoving himself forward to try and pin the younger man with his body weight. What he isn’t expecting is a dragon the size and weight of a goddamned dog to pounce on the two of them with an excitement that’s far from the vibe the two had going on.
“The fuck?!” he chokes inelegantly, a disbelieving laugh escaping at the conflicting stimulus he’s experiencing. Pinned beneath the lizard - cuz he’s not gonna hurt a damn pet, honestly - he shoves his forearm down flat towards Tal’s chest to try and force him into immobility. “Stop squirmin’ shithead! Ya punch like a girl! Just tell me the hell yer doin’ here, I ain’t gettin’ my pants ripped off by a damn lizard!” He’s not gonna walk around in the streets pantsless. At least not sober.
“The fuck?!” he chokes inelegantly, a disbelieving laugh escaping at the conflicting stimulus he’s experiencing. Pinned beneath the lizard - cuz he’s not gonna hurt a damn pet, honestly - he shoves his forearm down flat towards Tal’s chest to try and force him into immobility. “Stop squirmin’ shithead! Ya punch like a girl! Just tell me the hell yer doin’ here, I ain’t gettin’ my pants ripped off by a damn lizard!” He’s not gonna walk around in the streets pantsless. At least not sober.
They say I need therapy 'Cause I've got no symmetry
but maybe I just don't fit in
but maybe I just don't fit in
