Hot night. Friday Night. Rednecks and lots of liquour and stuff that looked like liquor being served in the tent that night proved to be the recipe for a perfect storm of fuckery for Gar to deal with. Ever since the second dancer had gone on, it had been full on war between him and the drunken fucks in the crowd that not only didn't abide by the few and simple rules of the tent, but weren't being deterred by the admonisions of their fellows or other members of the audience. He'd already picked two off of the stage when they thought that Sioux needed help with her act. Jealousy determined that they should be punished a bit more severely than a normal first offense would warrant. He knew she would be grateful, and besides, he owed her for introducing him to Iza.
After those had been tossed, he'd been forced to join a melee between two tables and crack skulls there. Reluctantly he accepted help from a pair of Marine Corp vets on leave from Iraq. They helped deliver some quick, precise ass kicking, and Gar gave them each a drink chip for their trouble. On and on it went like this all night. Finally, dripping sweat and his hair plastered down on his head like he'd just exited a shower, he found a moment to lean against the far end of the bar. He picked up the first pitcher of ice water there and dumped it over his head. He shook the water off in every direction like a giant dog, then picked up the second and drained down in a series of long gulps. After putting the pitcher back down, he surveyed the crowd, reluctantly looking for more trouble.
He was looking the other way, but even over the noise, the cat calls and music he heard it, the cry of protest. It was cut off, too quickly, and his head snapped around, green eyes practically luminous as he searched the crowd. He didn't see anyone in distress at first, but then his eyes caught sight of a small crowd of men at the other end of the bar, focusing on something, or someone down lower, out of sight. Gar growled and shoved his way through the crowd at the bar with surprising grace and lack of disturbance of those he wasn't interested in. Ten feet away, he was tall enough to see over them and who was down on the ground. Babs. He snarled loud enough to part the few remaining marks between him and his targeted victims.