milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

About ten minutes ago, there was a young man who came down to the bar and received a note.

Currently, he's out at the stone wall, shooting at various bottles and cans.

His hands are shaking slightly.

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Connor's in a blind rage, and when Murphy touches him, it transfers over to him. He grunts with the effort of hitting his brother upside his jaw.

It's a good shot, knocking him back a little and taking out the last shreds of control he'd been clinging to.

Seconds later, he's launched himself towards his twin; one hand trying to grab hold while the other balls into a fist and swings out not quite blindly.

The well placed hit sends Connor reeling, and struggling blindly to keep his balance. he doesn't hve the strength behind his body he once had. He's weak from lack of proper nutrition, but not quite ready to surrender. Grunting and growling, he surges up and forward, fists flying, seeking to connect with something. Anything. Needing the physical release. Needing to feel the power.

There was a time when those punches would have had him bent over double and gasping for a moment, but this time they'd only knocked a bit of the wind out of him.

He'd managed to grab hold of some part of Connor's shirt at some point, the cloth bunching in his hand.

Connor, on the other hand was breathing hard, struggling for breath, really, and clinging to his brother's shoulders now that he'd stopped struggling physically.

All facts which are finally sinking through the anger.

"Think we should save this for later then?"

Because really, there's no point in fighting with your brother if he's in too bad of shape to make it worthwhile.

"[I'm sorry]" Connor mutters in Gaelic. He thumps his fist against Murphy's chest then sags against him.

{"Rather go back inside, then? Or should we sit a while first, catch our breath again?"}

"I don't want you tearin' the place down. We should stay out here a bit." Connor nodded. He hated that he really didn't have the stamina to fight. He'd sensed they both needed it. Desperately.

He nods.

They're far enough from the wall as to not have to worry about any target remnants winding up under foot or seat.

"She's fine. dearthair. She's strong. She'll...she'll come back to us."

"Aye."

Connor impulsively kissed his brother's temple.

Rough grin as he pulls his twin closer and repeats the gesture.

Then winces, as that punch to the jaw was one of the better ones Connor let fly tonight.

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