Casey really didn't like Grand Central. He had a problem with authority to begin with, and the authority sure was overzealous there. There were more guards than any of the other safehouses, and not a single one of them could take a joke. Not that he made things easy for himself-- he couldn't help antagonizing the stiff soldiers standing guard, and at Grand Central he was even more likely than ever to wind up getting cracked in the jaw. The guards had a real mob mentality, and it was likely part of the reason why Casey loved to tick them off so much.
Not too far from Sia's quiet space, Casey was at it again. He was heckling one of the guards who had already shoved him away once, his own temper making him reckless and persistent. "Come on, you can't tell me you don't get off on this. Fascist violence without sexual enjoyment is a hollow, feckless simulacrum of the real thing. It's fine if you do, all I'm saying is that it's a little gay."
"I'm serious. If you fuckin' call me queer one more time--" the guard he was mouthing off to growled between clenched teeth, squaring his shoulders and staring Casey down.
"It's too bad there's no post-apocalyptic Craigslist, right? I can totally see your post on there, bro. 'Seeking straight dude to jizz on my boutonniere. No gay stuff.'"
"You fuckin'--" The man finally lost it, snapping forward and slamming his fist into Casey's cheek. He kept his footing for a moment, but a shove from the guard dropped his feet out from under him. The next moment the man had his boot on Casey's throat, and several people squealed in alarm.