Bernard Ludwig Black (
upwiththisiwillnotput) wrote in
milliways_bar2017-11-07 08:00 pm
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So, Bernard is wearing his left arm in a rather ridiculous plaster cast tonight, sticking straight out from his body and held up by a pole. He told his friends it was the outcome of a faux pas he made while drunk, rather than explaining that it was from falling over an animated porcelain doll in this place that was trying to stab him with a spoon.
Perhaps this is why he seems to have been let off being resized. But at the moment, he is enjoying a bit of chain smoking, solely because he's about the only person in here today who's able to buy cigarettes.
Perhaps this is why he seems to have been let off being resized. But at the moment, he is enjoying a bit of chain smoking, solely because he's about the only person in here today who's able to buy cigarettes.
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"What, you mean you weren't on the broken down school bus?" Wilford asks, full of surprise.
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Duh, Bernard.
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$20 for some cigarettes and a couple of beers. It's a good deal.
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"I dunno why everyone's so hung up about doing jail time, I hear it builds character--"
He grabs one of Bernard's Cokes and dumps the ice cold beverage in his lap.
"Get the flask!"
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He throws his entire body into a sudden tackle, on Bernard's injured side and reaches into the pocket where the flask was.
"Ha! Got it!" he crows as he reels back to put some distance between himself and Bernard. The stairs are closer, but they are stairs, so he runs for the back door instead. There are fewer places to get cornered out there.
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Little shits. All they had to do was tell him the truth, and he'd have given it to them.
He clutches at his cast, and goes white as a sheet.
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It's daytime.
And the moment he steps off the porch, he lets out a shout of pain as his skin immediately starts to sizzle and smoke.
He scrambles back into the shade, shaking his arms out.
When he looks back through the doorway, he sees Bernard still on the floor.
"Fuck."
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His puppy is still in the bar though, yapping at all of the chaos. He wants to get up the stairs, but his legs are tiny and he can't quite seem to figure it out now.
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"Bernard! You'll be okay!" Alana says, her eyes wide. "Let's take you to the infirmary to scan your arm."
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"Give me a moment." He says. "Pole just went in my side. The little shit jumped me full force."
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Fortunately there's a doggie door, and after shoving the puppy through, he crawls in after him. It's a bit of a squeeze, but he gets in just fine.
Breathless and still running on adrenaline, he sits on the floor with his back to the door, and waits for everything to die down.
He hopes Bernard isn't too badly hurt.
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"They got my hip flask. I need that back." he says.
It's not the fact that they're drinking it. They might see the inscription. They might ask questions.
'To Bernard, all my love, Emma'
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"Thank you. Did you see where they went? Know their real names?"
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"Your arm isn't misaligned," she says, sighing.
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"I think it just winded me."
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He can't do time for giving the kids cigarettes. He can't go that long without a drink.
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"Thanks Alana."