Fable - Ask Bussin' Heads in the Head

[Susannah]

She raised a chipped clay mug to her lips and took a long drink of the straw-colored piss in it. Shrouded in shadow, the denizens of the dive barely even noticed her at the table near the warped door to the dark streets.

Excepting those that knew her by reputation. The Goblin's Head had a reputation as a rough place, even by the fairly low standards of the Gutters. She served a particular kind of function for the proprietor.

She wore a loose-fitting, drink-stained tunic and pants that did her little justice. She had the figure to be beautiful - if you could ignore the fact that she was as tall as most men. Ruddy hair in a tangled mass flowed down her back to between her shoulders and framed a face that was only slightly marred by a nose that was ever so slightly crooked. Her eyes were a faded blue and alive with mischief. And also the faint sheen of intoxication.

Some people were just born a drink or two too sober. Suzzy couldn't even function until she'd had at least a shot of something in the morning. Besides, everything always went to shit if she was sober.

Explained a lot of things in her life, really.

She kicked her feet up onto the table and cradled her drink as her eyes roved over the crowd. Even though the law was strictly enforced in Vel Anir, she knew at least half of the crowd here were ne'er-do-wells. Dock workers and drovers and wagon drivers made for a rough sort. Mixed in among them would be thieves and cutthroats and the worst sort of people.

Her sunken knuckles itched. Drinking was a necessity of life, but fighting? That was a hobby. She'd managed to turn it into something of a job, too; toss the rowdies out and rough 'em up a bit if they decided they didn't want to go peaceful, like. She made enough coin to pay her rent and the weasel faced arsehole that ran the Head let her drink as much as she liked, provided she didn't cause any trouble herself.

Fair deal. Bust some heads, get shit-faced out of the deal. It was a match made in heaven. She even tried not to break any of the cheap, rickety furnishings in the place when she had to eighty-six someone.

She watched the crowd with eyes sharper than the pleasant fog bubbling in her veins should have allowed.

 

[Hazen]

And in walked one such thief.

The place was alive with the usual crowd—gruff dockworkers, hardened criminals, and a few nameless souls who preferred to melt into the shadows.

Hazen slipped in mostly unnoticed. He liked it that way. The dim light caught only the edge of his profile—a sharp jawline and a quick flash of dark eyes—before he disappeared into the gloom. The corner table near the far side of the room suited him well, away from the prying eyes and louder company, though that was never a guarantee in a place like this.

As he moved, his hands idly worked, fingers brushing past belts and coin purses, lifting small pieces with the grace of a practiced thief. A few coins here, a trinket there. A pittance, really, given the clientele. Nothing that would be missed in the noise and distraction. By the time he reached his seat, his pockets were just a little heavier, and his conscience as light as ever.

He scanned the room as he gave a gentle tap on the table, gesturing the usual wench to bring him a mug of ale. Most of the regulars were busy with their drinks or half-hearted brawls, none of which concerned him. Hazen lived for the subtle thrill of this place—the way every conversation held a secret, every transaction a trick. He’d been raised in chains but thrived in a world of lies, and the Gutters had become his playground.

"Thank you, love." Keep 'em comin'.." he winked charmingly, flicking a pilfered coin to the wench who blushed as she stowed it away down the crevasse of her cleavage.

Settling in, he signaled the bartender with a quick nod, then leaned back, keeping an ear out for useful chatter. His fingers absently played with a coin, spinning it over his knuckles with practiced ease. The place was loud, voices rising and falling in the usual drunken rhythm, but Hazen’s sharp senses picked up on the things that mattered—the words muttered too softly or the shifts in posture that hinted at a pocket full of coin.

From his vantage point, he noticed a game of dice happening at a table nearby, a few rough-looking men hunched over, betting hard-earned money on poor odds. One of the players, a sour-faced man with a hunched back and a missing tooth, was losing, and losing badly.

But then, the sour-faced man’s hand reached toward his boot—a glint of steel showing for just a second. The game had taken a turn, and it was about to get ugly. Hazen’s lips curled in a faint smirk.

 

[Susannah]

Three in for the night, she leaned back and made herself more comfortable. Honestly, waiting was boring. She didn't get paid to start problems, though. Just to end them with a minimum of killing and breaking things.

She could usually get one of the two.

She noted each new arrival as they entered, faded eyes marking the unknowns alongside the regulars. Most had never had any dealing with her, of course; once bounced, people tended to stay bounced. Looked bad, getting barehand beat to shit by a girl. Especially among the kind of thugs that made the Gutters their home away from home.

She offered a lazy wave to another regular as they came in, then drank the remainder of her drink. Her eyes scanned the crowd, nimbly darting from table to table and patron to patron with the ease of long practice.

That same ease clued her in to trouble before trouble reared its ugly head, usually. She saw the glint of steel in the low light by happenstance and her eyes focused on the table and its customers. A dicing game was ongoing, and Suzzy found herself scowling and cursing under her breath. Gambling brought all the worst problems in one light.

Of course, there were benefits. She dropped her feet off the table and stood up in her dark little corner, but did not make any immediate move. The game continued on with only those closest to her noting that she had even risen. Ready.

"'s enough of your cheating, friend," said the sour-faced fellow after another roll and another loss. It was the fifth throw in a row that he had lost, and his face had turned a purple color. He stood suddenly, the knife sliding into his hand as if by magic. "Cheaters get what they deserve," the fellow said.

Susannah was already moving when he stood up, something like expectation writ large on her face. "Take it outside, ya skulkers," she said cheerfully as she stepped up to the table. "You want t'cut someone, do it outside."

"Piss off, bitch. This ain't nuffin t' do with you." The fellow made to move round the table. The other fellow - the one winning a bit too much for his own good - stepped back, casting a worried look to the knife.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Nae, really fink it is summin' t'do wiv me, pal." She stared down at him unflinchingly. Alcohol certainly increased courage, but she had no fear anyway. "Boss dun like it when you lot bring the law down here. Gets expensive, it do. So, piss off outside or get chucked out."

She grinned at him insolently. "Your choice, pal."

 

[Hazen]

Hazen leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the scene unfold. It wasn’t every day you saw someone walk straight into a brewing knife fight with such gusto, and Hazen couldn't help but appreciate the audacity.

The sour-faced man, knife still gripped tightly in his hand, sneered at her, clearly weighing his options. Hazen didn’t need to intervene—Suzzy had it handled, that much was obvious—but there was no harm in a little nudge.

From his seat, Hazen’s fingers flicked a coin across the table, the copper piece spinning through the air before landing with a soft clink and rolling to a stop right in front of the knife-wielder.

“Maybe buy yourself a drink and think it over,” Hazen said, his voice calm and cutting through the tension. His eyes glinted with amusement as he tipped his head toward the bar. “It’d be cheaper than replacing teeth.”

The man’s eyes darted to Hazen, and for a moment, the fury on his face flared. But the weight of both Hazen’s casual confidence and Suzzy’s unwavering stance seemed to cool his blood just enough. He glared at the coin, then back at Suzzy.

“Piss off,” the man growled, but this time with less venom. His eyes flickered between the two of them, sizing up his odds, and after a long pause, he spat on the floor. “Ain’t worth it.”

With a frustrated shove, the man sheathed his knife, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the tavern, leaving behind a trail of grumbled curses.

The tension in the room eased immediately. Hazen’s smirk widened as he leaned back further in his chair, eyes now on Suzzy. He raised his hand, gesturing loosely toward her with a lazy salute.

 

[Susannah]

She watched the unlucky man stalk off in a dark mood, and she barked a laugh at his retreating back. And deftly snatched a cup of beer - or whatever, she wasn't picky and wasn't really looking - off a passing wench's platter. That worthy didn't even note the loss beyond a cursory glance to see who had done.

She raised a hand to the proprietor of the dive, two fingers raised in a 'V' for victory. Best kind, too, for him: nothing broken, no bodies to chuck outside. No law down prying where they weren't wanted.

The redhead turned to face the fellow that had spoken up. Her glazed eyes raked over his sturdy figure quickly. Offered him a lopsided grin as she took a long and deep pull from her captured drink - wine, as it turned out. "Wot we got 'ere?" she drawled. "Fanks fer the hand, there. Boss dun like it when I haf'ta smash summin's head into a table," she added. There might have been just a trace of disappointment in her voice, like she was lookin forward to trouncing that fellow.

She gestured at one of the empty chairs at Hazen's table, spilling wine as she did. "Seats' takin'?"

 

[Hazen]

Hazen watched Suzzy with an amused glint in his eye, his fingers still idly spinning a coin on the table. Her casual confidence was impossible to miss, and Hazen couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath as she snatched up another drink and turned her attention on him.

“I'd say you're welcome, but it seems I might've ruined your afternoon,” he replied, voice low and smooth, his eyes locking with hers, her disappointment clear. He took a slow sip from his own drink, then flicked his gaze toward the empty chair she gestured at.

Hazen shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Seems i've been stood up anyways." he said, gesturing toward the chair with a casual wave, “help yourself.”

He eyed her for a moment, taking in her rough appearance and the glazed eyes that somehow still held sharpness beneath them. She was trouble, the kind that usually left bodies in her wake if pushed, but Hazen wasn’t one to back away from interesting company.

“Not every day someone steps into a mess with a grin like that.” He leaned forward slightly, giving her a faint, cocky smile. “Hazen, by the way. And you are?”

His tone was easy, though there was a gleam of curiosity in his expression. Hazen had spent years living by his wits, and Suzzy seemed like someone worth keeping an eye on—not for any immediate gain, but because people like her often made life in the Gutters a lot more fun.

 

[Susannah]

She shook her head as she took a seat, a lopsided grin smeared across her face. "I'd nae worry 'bout it," she confided to him in a voice that could be heard from several tables away but was delivered in the manner of a hushed whisper. "Summin else'll make a bet their backside cannae cash. Alway' some trouble 'ere."

She kicked back in the chair, standing it on the hind two legs and putting one of her feet up on the table. She folded her hands behind her head and stretched, puffing her chest out for a moment before returning that lazy gaze back onto the stranger. "Susannah," she said with a grin. "Most 'ere call me Suzzy. Please t'meetcha."

They also called her Knuckles, and a plethora of other things. Not to her face, though. At least, not more than once.

She blinked, unfolded her hands, and picked her drink back up. It wouldn't do to let sobriety sneak up on her. She swirled the drink round in the cup and stared into its depths for a moment. Her face twisted a moment later in disgust.

"Dinnae why people drink dis shite," she exclaimed after a moment. And then drained the cup and set it with nearly comical reverence on the table, all the while looking at the proprietor of the dive. The man wasn't even looking her way, so she made a rude gesture in his direction.

No one was taking it upon themselves to be offended and start something with her.

"Here for a," she started to say and paused, lips moving silently, "a tit-ala-tit? Whoever she was is missin' out," she said with a crooked grin.

 

[Hazen]

Hazen chuckled, shaking his head at her question. “Not quite.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with amusement as he let out a low laugh. “Seems my hot date has either changed their mind or got a bit lost in this lovely part of town. I’m not holding my breath, though. Not the first time I’ve been left waiting.”

He gave an indifferent shrug, lifting his mug and taking a long, slow drink before setting it down with a soft thud. “But hey, their loss, right? I’ve got better company now.” His smile was easy, but there was a sharpness in his eyes, a flicker of that inner edge he rarely let show.

Hazen glanced around the tavern, noting the rough crowd and the tension that always simmered beneath the surface in places like this. “Seems like you’ve got the same idea,” he added, nodding toward her casual but ready stance. “Waiting around for someone to give you an excuse to crack some heads?”

He flashed her a grin, his tone teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “Not that I blame you. A place like this? It’s only a matter of time before someone gets a little too brave for their own good. Or stupid. Usually both.”

He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on the table as he studied her, his voice dropping slightly. “So, Suzzy. What's your story, hm?”

 

[Susannah]

She grinned at him, glassy eyes filled with amusement. "Seein' wut the night'll bring," she agreed. "'s what 'e pays me for," she added, gesturing with her head towards the man behind the bar with a barely concealed sneer of disdain. She picked up the cup and raised it to her lips, then frowned as she remembered it was empty.

She lifted it over her head and tipped it back and forth. This garnered no notice from the thugs and lowlifes that inhabited the other tables. At least, not the ones that were regulars. A few of them eyed her with a degree of apprehension.

"Tha's me," she said in reply to Hazen. "Bite off more'n I can chew sometime." She let a bark of laughter bubble up, raised a hand to cover her mouth as she belched in a most unladylike fashion. "Worked out, s'far," she added.

She let her arm fall and set the cup back on the table rather less delicately than she had the first time. She put both feet back on the floor and leaned forward, chair sliding back. "Story?" Her breath washed over him, smelling of spirits. The fuzziness in her eyes did not hide the sharp trace of intelligence. At least, not completely.

"N'story." She leaned forward, eyes locked on his. "Work f'r 'im," she said, gesturing vaguely at the man behind the bar. "Nuffin special, nuffin import'nt. People, they star' trouble? Suzzy, she enc'rage em t'take it elsewhere. Friendly, like."

She paused a moment and then grinned widely and crookedly. "'r not. Always gives 'em a choice, I does."

She leaned back suddenly. "'nyway, free drink, free fightin' an' an occasional roll? Wha' more could a girl want?"

 

[Hazen]

Hazen laughed, shaking his head at Suzzy’s bluntness. “You’re livin' the dream, clearly,” he said with a wry smile. “Who needs the high life when you’ve got free drinks, a brawl now and then, and the occasional... well, perks?”

He glanced around the tavern as if sizing it up with new eyes, then looked back at her with a raised brow. “Must be nice," he said as he stretched out in his chair, seemingly at ease, though his gaze was alert, following the subtle shifts and murmurs of the crowd around them. “It’s a rare find, someone who can work that kind of crowd without flinching. It’s either you’re fearless or just plain insane. Might be both,” he added, a glint of amusement in his eye.

He let the silence settle for a moment, then leaned in, tone dropping to a low rumble. “Tell me though, Suzzy... anyone ever actually give you a run for it? One good enough to make you think twice?”

He gave her a teasing grin, lifting his mug in a toast. “I’d pay to see that one.”

 

[Susannah]

"Both," she agreed. "Been stuck a time 'r two. 'lmos shed m' mor'al coil right 'ere." She made a gesture of stabbing someone with a knife, wincing a bit at some memory that lingered in her drink-addled mind. Well, perhaps not addled; though her words were slurred and the stink of alcohol was strong on her breath she still retained more awareness than some people did sober.

She did not answer the last question immediately, staring into her empty cup. The easy grin was replaced by a frown even as a new cup of something yeasty was slammed onto the table in front of her by one of the serving wenches with a clear sound of disgust. Never mind that they had remarkably few encounters with unwelcome paws on their bodies as a result of her efforts.

"Spoil it, why doncha," she said moodily. "Hand t'hand? Mayb' some o' the dock workers if they c'n get 'ems hands on me," she said. "Th' ones wi' the big stickers? Nae stupi' enough t'try 'em." She paused, shook her head. "N' direct, like, ne'way." She picked up the new drink and stared at it as intensely as she had the empty drink.

She took a solid swallow of her beer, cocked her head to one side, and let the crooked grin return. "Gi' it half a night. Either summin pick a fight wi' summin else, 'r the fella from early come back an' bring frien's."

 

[Hazen]

Hazen's dark eyes gleamed with newfound interest as Suzzy spoke, each word solidifying a plan that had begun to hatch in his mind. He leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the worn wood of the table, a half-smile forming on his lips. Suzzy was a wildcard, a storm wrapped in a crooked grin and a body that knew how to take a hit and throw one back tenfold. He could see it now: the crowd roaring, wagers piling up, and the glint of gold lining his pockets.

“Good to know,” he said, voice steady but carrying a subtle undertone of intent. “Not that you’d need much backing up, seems to me. But an extra set of hands never hurts, aye?” He cast a casual glance toward the door, watching the ebb and flow of patrons with an eye practiced in spotting opportunity—and danger. “Might be an interesting night yet.”

He took a sip of his drink, leaning forward slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Ever thought about takin’ that talent of yours somewhere it’d pay better than just free drinks and gratitude? There’s places... rougher places, where your kind of skill makes a killing, literally and otherwise. Good coin in it. Good fun, too, if you’re into that.”

He let the silence stretch, eyes meeting hers, searching for a flicker of curiosity, a hint of the fight that simmered just beneath the surface.

 

[Susannah]

She was silent for a moment, a thoughtful cant in her glassy eyes. "Hear' o' 'em 'afore," she said slowly and almost clearly. "Thems' 's ken it see a pair a breasts n' want nuffin t'do with it. Gotta ha' a cock t' play wit' the Big Boys."

She gave a derisive snort at the thought. Her lack of a cock, as she had so crudely put it, hadn't stopped her from cracking a few nuts and even more heads. She couldn't stand toe to toe in a straight match of strength with a man of equal height and (more importantly) training, but she more than made up for her shortcomings with a ruthless, savage efficiency born of an intelligence that had been put to an entirely wrong use.

The door opened to the dive, and the fellow from earlier slipped back inside like the slime he was. This time, he had a pair of men with him. He cast his eyes across the room and spotted the redhead and her companion at their table. A grin, and he was moving off into the crowd after nodding at his companions.

"Reckon, 'f y' can get me inna ring," she began, and her eyes went a bit distant. She could work sums too, and even though she didn't gamble (much), she could feel the call of coins. It made her knuckles each even more than they normally did. "If, well... worf it if'n I get paid t' wipe some smug, sel'satisf'd arsehole's face off."

 

[Hazen]

Hazen’s grin spread wide, his eyes glinting with the promise of what was to come. “Oh, I can get you in the ring,” he said, raising his cup in a mock salute. “And I’ve got a feeling you’d make an absolute killing. Wipe the floor with a few gobshytes, get paid, and have a good time doing it.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, his tone laced with something darker, more enticing. “Nothing like a good fight to make the world feel right again.”

He sat back, taking another sip of his drink, his gaze sliding toward the door. He caught sight of the man from earlier, slinking back into the dive with a couple of goons in tow. The trio scanned the room, their eyes locking onto Suzzy and Hazen’s table before the man gave a knowing, crooked grin.

Hazen's grin turned into a smirk as he nodded in their direction. “Looks like you’ve got your chance to impress me.” He jerked his chin toward the approaching group, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He settled back in his chair, his fingers flexing, already thinking of the coins he was going to rake in. This was going to be fun.

 

[Susannah]

"Damn str't," she slurred at him, raising her drink high before taking a deep pull of it. She needed to slow down a bit - there was a fine line between absolutely pissing drunk and too sober to suffer through it. She was edging into the territory of too drunk.

She needed to keep her wits about her, or at least in the same general region.

She glanced at Hazen appraisingly at his comment, and smirked. "Not in th' mood right now," she replied - completely misunderstanding what it was he was saying. At first, anyway. Until someone laid a hand - more like a paw - on her shoulder and tipped her chair backward.

With her in it. She hit the table with her feet on the way down, knocking over her drink which spilled and dumped over the edge onto her trousers, soaking them through. Her head bounced off the wood floor without much effect on her, eyes narrowing as she took in the world from an upside down, floor up view.

"Stupid bitch," the fellow from earlier said. A pair of hands hauled her up off the floor and spun her to face the fellow. Already people nearby were finding somewhere else to be, the owner of the place ducking into the back. "Don't know who you'r-"

"You spilt m'beer, y'fuck," she said, interrupting him. "Sh'ldna dunnit, churl."

"You ha-," but that was all the further her got. She jumped just far enough to get both feet off the ground and came down with all of her weight on her captors feet. Both of the men let her go in shock; the next moment she kicked the fellow from earlier squarely in the meat n' veg, then as he went down drove a knee into his face with a sickening crunch.

The fellow to her right turned and tried to put a meaty paw on her, but she spun away - wobbling a bit and treading heavily on the now nasel-screaming assholes' hand in the process. "You two c'n fuck off, too. N' t' late, ye ken?"

 

[Hazen]

Hazen didn’t move at first. He just leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, watching the chaos unfold with an amused, predatory gleam in his eyes. He took a slow sip of his drink as Suzzy went down, her chair toppling, her beer soaking into her trousers. For a brief second, he thought she might be too drunk to make a show of it—but then she hit the ground, and in an instant, it was clear he’d underestimated her almost as much as the other men had.

The moment her boots came down on her captor’s feet, Hazen felt a chuckle bubbling up in his chest. The kick to the other bastard’s crotch had him grinning. By the time her knee drove into the poor sod’s face, sending him crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes, Hazen was downright delighted.

She wasn’t just some reckless drunk who could throw a punch—no, she was efficient. Mean. Quick enough to read the room and ruthless enough to end a fight before it even properly started.

The second man hesitated, glancing to the third, both clearly weighing their options. The woman's warning had some weight to it now, and the bruisers seemed to know it. Hazen saw the way they shifted, debating whether or not to push their luck.

Hazen finally spoke, low and amused. "Might want to listen to the lady, friends," he drawled, swirling the dregs of his drink.

He leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table, eyes flicking between the remaining two men. "Unless, of course, you’re feelin' brave?" A slow, knowing smile spread across his face as he stood, stepping onto his stool and then onto the table, eyes rising to him.

"My money's on Big Suz!!" he said, a silver coin held up. "Any takers!?" he challenged, and coins began slamming down on the tables as patrons called their bets, ignoring the barkeep's pleas for matters to be taken outside.

 

[Susannah]

It might have ended with the neat dismantling of the first thug, even if it would have bruised their egos and given them a reputation that might require a bit of bone-breaking to stamp out properly. Might have but for the gleam of coin and the certainty that they would never live down turning tail and running - most especially two men running from a girl.

"Brave? She just lucky, caught us unawares," said one of them. He shot Hazen a dark look - quick and dirty - before nudging his companion. This was not what they had signed up for, but it was what they were getting. They were professional leg breakers, after all.

The headman behind the bar had already ducked out of the room. It was even odds if he would get the law involved in this or if he was just slipping away to somewhere safer. He definitely did not earn enough to risk having his neck broken or his guts spilled over bad blood between patrons.

"Suich ee'self," she said. They had already initiated the whole confrontation. There was no need to let them lay hands on her again to justify breaking their heads.

She stepped forward, feinting a kick to the groin on the one to the left. The involuntary flinch was enough for her to step in instead and grab the man by his hair and swing him quite hard to the right. Into his companion.

Their heads met with a meaty thock. Both men were staggered by the blow, an affliction she would have taken advantage of if not for a hand around her ankle as she stepped forward. She tripped as he pulled hard on her foot. She came down with a squawk.

Still with enough presence of mind to swing a foot out at the groin of the one on the left. She wasn't quite close enough and her boot whistled through empty air. She hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs in a whoosh.

A hand grabbed her by her hair as she was sucking in wind in great sobbing breaths and only just managed to turn before they could haul her up properly. Without a second though she bit the son-of-a-bitch on the wrist as hard as she could; the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth and spilled over her chin. The bastard let her go and quickly stepped back, flinging crimson droplets as he cursed. She stumbled against the table, aiming - and connecting - another kick at the bastard on the floor. It connected with the side of his head and he rolled bonelessly to the side.

"Last...chance.... ye fucks..," she managed between breaths. The other two had stepped back warily.

 

[Hazen]

Hazen grimaced here and there, people tossed coins up at him, cheering louder now they had a stake in the fight.

Fuck, she was savage. And it was awesome.

Hazen let out a slow whistle, shaking his head with a grin that was equal parts admiration and amusement. He hadn’t even needed to lift a finger yet—Suzzy was handling herself just fine. Dirty, but fine. He liked that.

The gleam of blood at the corner of her mouth, the vicious way she took them apart piece by piece—it was like watching a street dog go up against a pair of overfed house mutts. She was half-feral, scrappy, and mean in a way that told him she’d been doing this kind of thing for a long, long time.

Now, as she stood there, bleeding, panting, and grinning like some wild thing, the crowd around them was in an uproar. People were cheering, shouting, groaning in defeat, their heads in their hands, but most were delighted—it wasn’t often they got a proper show for their money.

"She's a fuckin' animal!!" the one clutching his bleeding wrist staggered back.

Hazen grinned. "Yeah, she is," he agreed. "Which is why I like her."

Neither of them, it seemed, felt like pushing their luck tonight, and stumbled through the crowd, taking their leave.

Hazen clicked his tongue, watching him go. "Smartest thing anyone’s done all evening."

He turned back to Suzzy, eyes flicking over her, appraising. She was bleeding a little, winded, but still grinning through the mess of it. He liked that, too. He grinned as he jiggled the weighty purse in his hand, feeling the solid weight of it. Damn. He might be in love.

"Fuckin’ hell, woman," he breathed, more amused than anything as he stepped toward her. "You do this often? ‘Cause if you don’t, you should. I think I just made more money tonight than I have in a month, and half is yours."

"I'll even throw in another drink." he laughed.

 

[Susannah]

Recovery was a few more moments coming. Once she had, she took a deep breath and stood straighter. After a moment of thought, she kicked the downed bastard again for good measure and spat a mouthful of someone else's blood on him.

"Nae 'vry night," she said after the cheering and groaning had died down and people had begun to return to their own drinks and collect their winnings (or pay out their losses). She scowled at the retreating backs but she didn't make to follow. Likely she would have a visit on the way home to her hole of a home. That was a problem for a different time. "'nuff t' know me way roun' a brawl or t'ree," she added.

She stared at the heavy purse in his hand and blinked for a moment. That was... well, a lot of money. More money than she would make in an entire year and that including all the 'free' booze she drank as though it were water. "'ll tha' fer bussin' some handsy arse'ole?" There was a note of disbelief in the tone of her voice.

"Blokes pay 's much fer that? F'real?" It seemed wild to consider. Obviously, she had heard of coliseums before but those fight tended to be quite terminal.

 

[Hazen]

Hazen let out a low, appreciative whistle as Suzzy kicked the bastard one more time and spat blood on him, the crowd around them chuckling at her display. She was a true natural—ferocious and unbothered by the spectacle. She wasn't playing at it; she was it.

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned, looking down at the purse in his hand. "Yeah, that’s the real beauty of it," he said with a wink, tossing the heavy purse from one hand to the other. "You just wiped the floor with those guys, and a crowd will pay good for the privilege of watchin’ you do it." He leaned in a little, his grin widening. "And yeah, it’s real. A lot more than just 'bussin’ handsy arseholes'... people pay big coin to see blood, and I’ve got a few people who enjoy betting on who’s gonna walk out of the ring, y’know?" He shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Not all the fights are clean, though," Hazen added with a flick of his eyes toward the man still on the ground, groaning from the knee to his face. "Sometimes people die, but… well, tonight was just a warm-up. What you’ve got going on, it’s raw, it’s real, and people love that shit. I love that shit."

He paused, letting the implications of his words hang in the air. He didn’t care if Suzzy wanted to fight for the glory, for the money, or just for the hell of it. The idea of her in that ring? That was enough to make his blood run warm.

He leaned back against the bar, his eyes fixed on her, not with the hunger of a man who wanted something for himself, but more the calculating look of someone who saw a business opportunity. His hand came down twice on the bar.

"A couple of your best, mate. She's earned it."