Simon & Lachlan | Late Morning | Town Circle
Knowing that there was something troubling Fiona was enough to keep Lachlan from relaxing entirely, but he was not so worried that it prevented him from enjoying the festivities. The air was full of music and laughter, and he knew his friend would have pulled him aside if the matter was too serious to put off for another time.
So they danced. At first together, before they parted ways when that dance melded into a group one. The gaiety of the moment came to a screeching halt when Lachlan felt a hand close roughly over his left arm. The touch was not the lightly teasing sort he would have expected from the likes of Reagan, and the aggression in the move registered far faster than the split second it took for Lachlan to turn his head to see who had spoken.
His right hand had already curled into a fist, fight manifesting where flight did not, when he registered the face of Simon Fox. Pure confusion was all that stopped Lachlan from swinging a punch, and he tried not to think about just how easily he had defaulted to combat when the war had ended years ago.
“What’s your problem, Fox?” Lachlan demanded roughly, as he wrested his arm from Simon’s firm grasp. His feet remained firmly in place in the flower-strewn grass, and he wasn’t going anywhere until he understood what on earth was going on.