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[irish_vagabond]

A few days have passed in Annville, Texas. No idea what that translates to in Milliways time.

But tonight, the door swings open. Cassidy staggers through.

He is literally covered head to toe with blood, his clothes thoroughly soaked, a hole ripped through his formerly white t-shirt. He's holding a chainsaw, also dripping with blood. It's pooling at his feet as he stands there, a bit breathless, when he realizes where he is.

"Oh, bollocks."

Comments

[childofrebellion]

Cassian's drinking a caf that he almost drops when he sees Cassidy and stands up to see if he needs help, "Kriff, Cassidy. How much of that is yours?"

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy blinks and sweeps his sleeve across his eyes. Doesn't help much.

"I'm-- not really sure," he mutters. "Get me something clean to wear from the bar, will ya, mate? I'll be in the men's loo."

He leaves a trail of bloody footprints and spatters as he makes his way across the room and into the public bathroom.

[childofrebellion]

He goes to the Bar, is given an odd selection of clothes and towels but Bar likes Cassidy's fashion sense then heads to the bathroom,

"I've got the clothes and towels. Should I start ordering you something to eat?"

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy sets the chainsaw down by the sinks and starts peeling off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the tiled floor.

At the question, he unconsciously licks his lips.

"Nah, already ate."

Sort of. Sucking puddles of blood up off the church floor wasn't the most dignified thing he's ever done, but there've been worse.

"Thanks, though, I'm fine."

Once he's standing in nothing but his underwear, he turns on the hot water, grabs a towel, and starts scrubbing at his face and arms.

"You must be brimmin' with questions," he says wryly, glancing at Cassian's reflection in the mirror above the sink.

[childofrebellion]

Bar also gave him a bag and he tosses the bloodied clothing in it, checking Cassidy over for injuries and noting all his tattoos, "What is that?"

It could maybe be a vibrosaw but Cassian's never seem them that size outside of worlds with lots of logging. He doesn't know what to do with it as its also bloody.

Cassian shrugs, he's curious but he understands not always wanting to share the answers, "I'll listen to what you tell me."

[irish_vagabond]

Nope, no injuries whatsoever. Even if he did get shot and whacked with the chainsaw a couple times.

"What's what?" Cassidy wipes his dripping face dry, and begins to wash his bloodstained legs down with a wet towel. "Oh, that thing. It's a chainsaw. Usually used for cuttin' down trees."

Usually.

The blade's got some meat in its teeth.

"It was the fuckin' vigilantes, man, I dunno how they keep trackin' me down."

[childofrebellion]

"You've got vigilantes hunting you?,"

The fact Cassidy's not hurt is good and disconcerting, Cassian's seen a lot of blood in his time and its usually alongside injuries. He also can't think why anyone would go after Cassidy unless he had a drug deal go south.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?" Bernard asks, staring at him from the bar.

There's a dish towel nearby that has been used to wipe the bar down, so he offers him that.

[irish_vagabond]

"You should be askin' what happened to the other two guys, but don't, you really don't wanna know," Cassidy mutters as he takes the towel, and stares at it a bit dumbfounded, because what's he gonna do with this one little towel?

"I might need more than this, mate."

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

"Er..."

Bernard is not known to be useful in a crisis, so the next offer is a handful of napkins.

[irish_vagabond]

"...That's not-- paper napkins stick to blood, haven't you ever-- well, no, I s'pose not, have you..." he grumbles.

Meanwhile, the dripping chainsaw is making a mess, and his blood-soaked jeans are chafing something awful.

"Bar, can I get a garbage bag with clean clothes an' towels, luv, I've a bit of business to take care of in the men's loo."

The black plastic bag appears with all the items inside. Cassidy grabs it and heads for the bathroom.

[upwiththisiwillnotput]

Bernard watches him leave, then orders him a drink for when he gets back.

[irish_vagabond]

About twenty minutes pass before Cassidy emerges, the blood scrubbed off his face and arms, and wearing brown sweatpants and a cheerfully baby blue t-shirt with fluffy clouds across the chest.

He's got the chainsaw wrapped up in plastic and he sets it down on the floor by the bar with a thunk.

"That for me?" he asks Bernard, gesturing at the other drink that Bernard isn't drinking.

[likeroaringlions]

William comes downstairs more than a little groggy, and catches a glimpse of Cassidy and Cassian heading into the bathroom. With blood. With a lot of blood. And a weapon.

...Right, then.

He'll just ask bar for a meal and mind his own business.

At least until Cassidy comes back and settles himself in, at which point William raises a mug of beer in quiet greeting. "Alright?"

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy is now wearing a clean, cheerfully light blue t-shirt with happy clouds across the chest. His demeanor, though, is a bit of the opposite. He's got a lot on his mind and a lot to contend with on the other side of his door.

"Oh, hey," he says, picking up a little at William's greeting. "Aye, what's up? I, uh-- don't s'pose you saw-- all that."

The waitrats have since scuttled away after mopping up the floor.

[likeroaringlions]

"A wee bit, aye. With the trail of blood and gore and all."

It was pretty noticeable.

"I won't ask, if you'd rather."

[irish_vagabond]

"Ah. Right."

Cassidy glances around. Things seem to spotless now anyhow.

He sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair, grimacing when he finds a piece of-- something. He flicks it away and wipes his hand on his sweatpants.

"Guess it depends on what you ask."

[likeroaringlions]

"...You want a cigarette?" It seems like a good question to start with! And look, William has finally just bought his own instead of perpetually bumming them off people he's just met.

[irish_vagabond]

It's a great question.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Cassidy exhales as he grabs his bottle of whiskey and comes over to sit closer. "Thanks, mate."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is sitting by the fire, playing a little wooden flute. He smiles up at Cassidy, now clean of blood. "You seen to be having a rather eventful day."

[irish_vagabond]

Cassidy, now wearing a cheerfully baby blue t-shirt adorned with cartoonish fluffy clouds, gives Sinric a wryly incredulous look. And he stands there a moment, forgetting where he was going or what he was going to do.

"So, lemme get this straight: you saw me come in, did ya, drenched in blood an' carrying a chainsaw, an' you're sittin' there smilin' an' playin' your flute, askin' me if I've had an eventful day? I mean-- are ya not freaked out in the least?"

[thewidewideworld]

"You didn't seem hurt, or likely to hurt anyone here." He shrugs, picking up a little pot of something thick and white which he rubs into the wooden flute, buffing it with a cloth. "And you seem well enough now?"

[irish_vagabond]

"Oh, I'm just peachy," he says. "But even if I didn't seem likely to hurt anyone here, out there, that's fine? Does that happen here often enough, people come in holding bloody murder weapons?"

[thewidewideworld]

"One of the laws of the bar is to leave that business that belongs outside the bar, outside." Sinric shrugs. "What you are, or choose to do beyond the door is not mine to judge."

"As for arriving bloodied, I once arrived bound naked to a tree, an inch from death."

[irish_vagabond]

"Jaysus Christ."

That could be a response to any of those things, really.

In some ways, the rule is a great convenience. But in other ways, it's really fucked-up. And only emphasizes, at least in Cassidy's own head, just how fucked-up he can be.

He doesn't like to dwell on it. That's why he has his whiskey.

"Why were you naked on a tree?"