Who: The men of the Star Trek reincarnates, plus one professional Irish hitchhiker What: Having a beer and talking someone out of violence When: Early Friday morning (Aug 21)/late Thursday night (Aug 20) Where: Clyde's place, S'port, LA Warnings: Language, chauvinism, chivalry, outdated ideas, blustering
He didn't know why he'd asked for beers; he should have just gone out and did what he wanted, but Clyde asked. Maybe he asked because he was all too aware that he could get into more trouble than the guy was worth, yet what man hit his wife? What man took advantage of women? He didn't think Rebecca was easy, but he did consider her one of those women who needed to be looked after sometimes without actually boffing them, that could be done after the woman was back on her feet.
He hadn't bothered to clean his place up, but he'd gotten enough alcohol to last four men - he hoped. He'd also ordered the pizza. His place was comfortable enough to laze out in without being afraid a guy might stick his foot in something gross if he put it under a table or chair or whatever. Actually they could be more afraid of sitting on something related to engines, or tools, or space (books, parts, etc.). On a shelf rested a tricorder and a phaser, both looked as if they were replicas; both were the real things. He'd taken a few readings and stunned a cat that annoyed him. So, yeah.
He settled on the couch with a slice of pizza and an open bottle of beer. He looked at the men who were going to dissuade him from a reckless course of action, not that they knew that was the purpose.
"So, I'm gonna beat the fuck outta this shithead; who wants to watch?" And there he began the discussion.