Justice might think that Regan was a supreme asshole-- it took one to know one, after all-- but the two had some things in common, nonetheless. They were both volatile, cynical, and complacent about their extended presence at the hotel. Justice had no interest in changing either, because he thought he was just about fine as he was, and he had everything he wanted here. Well, with the exception of having to live in an environment with non-whites and, just as bad, homosexuals. He'd dearly love to beat the stew out of that Colton kid, but that would mean touching him, something he was entirely unwilling to do.
Not that he thought gay was catching, but why take any chances?
He'd had dinner a short while ago, and now he was out walking around the grounds with one of his many evening cigarettes. This was the only time of day the damned climate here was dealable, with the possible exception of early morning, and Justice was not a morning person. The breeze rumpled his already disheveled hair, and he exhaled smoke through his nose as he made his way along the path toward the Serenity Garden.
Suddenly there was a sound he couldn't identify, the sense of something flying in his direction, and abruptly a golf ball slammed into his shoulder. Luckily it didn't hit him hard enough to injure him, but that was beside the point. Who the fuck was lobbing golf balls around when it was right at dusk? Cigarette clamped between his lips, Justice leaned over to pick up the ball and went storming around the hedge to see which brainless idiot it was. Terrific. Regan Frost, with whom he'd engaged in vicious fistfights numerous times since they'd both been here. "Asshole!" he growled, winding up and throwing the ball as hard as he could at Regan once he got close enough.