Lachlan vs. The Fox Boys | Late Morning | Town Circle
Here it came, then - Simon was ready - he'd taken his share of bruises all his life and as he felt the earth slip out from under him he assumed this would be just another lump. He'd hit the ground, sure, because he didn't really have an answer for avoiding that setup, but then he'd land, take a swipe at Lachlan's leg and --
There was no thud. Instead, just the uncomfortable sensation of his waistline being yanked up - his feet scrambled to find the earth (not slippery anymore, thanks) as he shot a bewildered stare at his rescuer... Teague. His face brightened at once - finally, they could cut to the chase, tell this loser to blow smoke somewhere else. He imagined, too quickly to stop himself, a victorious pint with his brothers. There they'd all be defending that togetherness, and the warmth of that possibility felt seasonally appropriate.
Then Teague spoke, and Simon's face darkened. The heat on his cheeks wasn't the glow of fraternal bonding he had expected, but a flustered near embarrassment at how the situation was fast deteriorating.
"Lay off, you should be thanking us," Simon said to his elder brother, voice strained, emphatically gesturing at Lachlan, "He --is a double crossing dirtbag." Not mincing words, especially in the flurry of an argument gone quickly south, the only man without a Gift was starting to feel a bit riled by the whole situation. "I just called him on it, and he doesn't deny it -- tell em, Kelly," he dared, "since we're all here?"