Allen + Henri | FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT
It was getting to about that time of the evening when, after a day of dancing and drinking, tired, intoxicated people felt their tempers flare. Of course Bellamy hadn't ever seen a Heuris Turning festival before, but after all the talk about releasing burdens at the service today and at the bonfire earlier in the evening, he supposed he ought to just expect some trouble tonight. As long as it didn't get out of hand and nobody got too badly hurt, he supposed he'd leave it be. A couple of black eyes and a bloody nose could do a man good, as long as it didn't turn into a dogpile and as long as one man stopped as soon as the other wasn't getting back up again.
Allen himself hadn't had more than a crisp, light cider earlier in the day. He rarely drank on the job, and never to excess; only enough to be polite at engagements like this where he was largely working security, but also there as a member of the community. Still, what he'd been learning about the Aurellians and their holiday was heavy on his mind. He was deeper in his own thoughts (and less attentive to his immediate surrounding) than he ought to have been at this time of the night.