Who: Charlie and OTA What: Causing trouble Where: Right off the coast of San fran When: Night. Why: Its charlie, he really doesn't have reasons.... Rating: P-g13 for the moment
"Oi mate, come on, I promise I won't do it again but I paid good money for this show!Not my bloody fault you don't tell your consumers touchin' not allowed"Charlie bantered, as the bouncer gave him one final push out of the darkened club, glaring at him as if he was a bug he would have liked to squash with his shoe.Charlie was used to looks like that, he knew exactly what he looked like in other peoples eyes. Poor, Irish, a drunkard. Most people were even suprised when he managed to hold a decent conversation.
Still, today was no different then any other day having been practilly kicked out of all the bars and strip clubs this side of the coast was a 'normal'day for the Hunter and, shaking his head, managed to scramble to his feet as the door slammed shut and, wiping his hands on his shirt, aimed a kick at it with no success, not even a curious peek from the overly muscled bouncers.
"Blimey, fine, let the succabuss kill you lot. you deserve it!"He grumbled, turning on his heel and heading back toward the somewhat still populated city.It was still early, and there were bars that he hadn't, yet, been given the toss from.
Hands deep in his pockets and head down, he paused on the edge of the alley.From anyone bothering to look at him it would appear as though he were merly studying the buildings, trying to decide where he would go next.
"You might as well show yourself, mate.You think I'm that stupid?"He muttered loud enough for whoever, or whatever, had been tracking him.