It was like they couldn't go a month without some kind of shit happening. Brandon was starting to get the feeling that things would never be peaceful around here, but honestly, when honestly, he'd be more concerned if things were normal. Normal, in a world like this, meant that something bad was on the way. Though, he supposed, bad being on the way was no worse than bad already being there.
The current drama was a mish-mosh of the old group of 'bad people' leaving (though Brandon seemed the only one negatively affected by that) and a new group apparently showing up. As if killing three of their people wasn't bad enough, they were using that fact to taunt. It wasn't the first time Brandon had seen a bloodied arm, but completely cut off? That was new. The sight made him sick to his stomach, and the thought that the arm—which obviously belonged to a male—belonged to someone whose face he used to see every day was beyond depressing.
He needed a drink more than he ever had before right now. So, the plan to meet up with Silas and Reg at the Horsemen was more than perfect.
As soon as he got there, he heard Reg's greeting and couldn't help but laugh a little. “So sorry to keep you waiting, King of the Impatient,” he snorted. “Had to check in with the niece before the sisters started nagging me to do it. Besides, someone's got to bring her soup.” Leah couldn't exactly be around her right now, and Evan couldn't really leave her anywhere, so Brandon did most of the 'run and get it' stuff for her while she was sick.
“Besides. You really gonna bitch at the guy who managed to snag some good Tennessee Whiskey from his stash for you?”