Re: Mary + Patrick + Dylan
[Mary was followed by Patrick. Had to be, because Mary had a little lamb, or wasn't that the way it went? The nursery rhyme fragment stuck in his head, the tail of it refracting against the empty space, Mary-had-a-little-lamb and Dylan lost it when Patrick shouldered past Mary and grabbed his shoulder. Lost it, laughter in the back of his throat, like shit, man. Follow the chick. There were cops: of course there were fucking cops. Dylan's weight reeled over his feet when Patrick tugged his shoulder, there was a lot of coiled anticipation and being tugged shoved it all out of line.]
Fuck the cops. [Lucidly, and he followed Patrick's gaze to the bartender, who had seen a lotta bar fights, maybe even some over the hookers that sat down at the bar. Outside and it felt hot. It felt hot like a bar late night, and like the air pressing in hard either side until the empty place where shit buzzed, rang like a fucking bell. Dylan reeled and Patrick's fingers clamped and Dylan yanked, hard - all that strength piled up to jerk his arm back and his weight crashed backward, stumbling over his own fucking feet into the back of the bar and smacked his head on the stool.]