2018.10.25: The Problem with Skinheads

The Problem with Skinheads
Isla and Jes go to rescue Jes' cousin from a group of Skinheads
IC Date	Thursday, Oct 25th
Players	Jes ST, Isla
Location	Lucky Strike Falls/Bar in Prospect
Spheres	Shifter Gaian Garou

It's early evening at the cabin, and Jes is lounging against the cabin wall, smoking a Nat Sherman with his sunglasses on and watching a murder of crows chase off a hawk just over the tree line. He smiles, appreciating the teamwork, and blows a puff of smoke out his nose, checking sports scores on his phone and muttering to himself before finally calling out, "Hey, Peach, I won three grand," in the same tone someone might declare that they found a missing sock. Just then his phone rings -- blaring out the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra declaring "I've got a crush on you... sweetie-piiiiie" -- before he answers with a sharp, "You got 'im." He's quiet for about thirty seconds, then says, "Wait, you're /where/? Fuck's sake, Colleen, /why/? No, I'm /not/ calling Uncle Tommy, I just... /no/ Colleen, I'm not calling Aunt Trish /either/. No, no, /no/, knock it the fuck off, /no/. I'm not calling /anybody/, Colleen; I'm on the fucking phone with /you/, how can I call /them/? No, I am /not/ three-way calling... why would I...? Okay, fuck, just... PEACH! Okay, Colleen, just tell me the address. No, use your GPS. Yes, while you're... you're fucking three years older than me, how do you not know how to do this shit?"

Isla was over sharpening her claws... no, seriously, she was doing a tune up on her bow and hears Jes calling out. At first she just rolled her eyes, "Aye! Sprinkles! What is it?" She begins to stand up and slowly walk towards him when she hears the rest of that conversation. Something is up. "What's going on? Who we gonna go save from what?" It certainly sounds like some job is needed to be done.

Jes makes a motion with his free hand, bird-beaking his fingers and shaking them... oh! Writing! "Okay, so what's the map say?" he says into his phone, looking very impatient. "No, the streets, Colleen. Right. Blanchard and... 17th. Did it give you a number? Okay, 3611. What's the...? Okay, shitty club, posters outside. No, but pay your tab. No, I'm fucking serious, pay your tab. Because I'm not going to. Because I'm eighteen, you fucking... Colleen, I swear to Christ if you keep this shit up the next number I call... exactly. /Exactly/. That's right. Yes, and you're welcome. No, seriously, just act ditzy and wait, and say your cousin's coming and he has weed and blow. No, seriously, I swear, it'll... exactly, right. No, less than that. No, I know where it is, I burned up a dumpster like three blocks from there a while ago. It doesn't matter. Yeah, I know you do. I love you, too." He hangs up the phone, sighing and taking a LOOOOOONG drag off his cigarette, then says in a surprisingly flat, neutral voice, "Go put on something slutty-looking. We have to save my cousin from a bunch of skinheads."

Isla blinks, "Ye want me to put on something slutty-looking? To save yer cousin from a bunch of skinheads? I ain't got..." she stops and it hits her. "How long until we need to leave?" She grins as she realizes she could do something a) fun, and b) tease him mercilessly. "I'll need at least 10 minutes to get this ensemble put together and ready." She makes a motion with her hands to indicate her body and slinks back and forth a bit seductively when she says it.

"Soon enough that the fact you're not naked already is problematic," Jes replies flatly, looking at the time on his phone and sighing heavily. "You can't dress the way you're dressed to go to the club we're going to. So thanks for catching on, and yes, I intend to watch, but no, I do not intend to /touch/." His libido is obviously warring with his concern, but he stubs out his cigarette and follows her to the bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb and openly watching her put an outfit together. He, apparently, is already dressed for this.

Isla quickly strips on her way to the bedroom, leaving her underclothes on for now. She pulls out something red...stringy...what is it?? She grins, having remembered finding this. "I'll be right back Sprinkles. I think.. you might just like this." As she goes, her bra comes off and flies over landing perfectly on his head. Once she yells a few times as she gets this thing on, she finally calls out. "Alright, be prepared cause I think this /just/ serves the purpose you wanted." She walks out, strutting like a runway model and does a turn for him. "So this slutty enough for ye?"

Jes' face is a blank, and he doesn't respond right away. He might even look angry, from a certain point of view. "Let's go save my cousin from neo-Nazis," sliding his hand into Isla's own hand and dragging her after him to the truck.

Isla waits for his reaction. Not sure at first what it means. Did she break him? Did she go too far? This is something he has never seen her in - nor has she actually worn it aside from ok, trying it on once while he was out just to see. That hand takes her and she almost stumbles in those heels and runs off with him to the truck. "So what's the plan, Sprinkles? Or just winging it?"

Time limit or no, Jes walks her right to the passenger door and opens it for her, offering her a hand to help her into the cabin. "Colleen says there's five skinheads basically running the bar. She went there to see a band she likes... well, okay, correction; she /ran away from the caravan/ as a 'fuck you' to her parents because she's bi and she prefers girls and her mom is a fucking homophobe and I have no idea why Uncle Tommy fucking married her, but they were in Reno and she took a Greyhound to LA and then hitched with some all-girl American Pussy Riot punk group to Prospect and /they/ all got drunk and passed out and locked her out of their honest-to-Gaia fucking /horse trailer/ so she's stuck in the bar with a couple of other girls and these five fucking skinheads who are all looking to get laid."

He's got the keys in now and they're on the way out, but he's telling his tale. "They're red laces; you know what that means? Fucking baddest of the bad, anyhow. True believers. And when she tried to step out and leave, two of them followed her like they were all going off together somewhere private, so she pretended she just went out for a smoke and she called me." He sighs, lead foot on the gas, knowing he can speed as much as he wants on this road. "So... plan? Peach, we may have to throw down tonight. You okay with that, if it comes to it? Because I'm not walking out of there without my cousin."

Isla cracks her knuckles, "That is quite a story, Sprinkles. Aye, we will bring them a bit of hell right to their doorstep. No claws, just fists? A good challenge and sounds like some fun. But once we get yer cousin what are we going to do with her? Have her stay with us?" She does like a good plan with some violence. They can always heal and fucking hell it is hot to watch him in action. "So what, am I playing as a bit of arm candy that then punches their heads off?"

"Yeah, Veil's the Veil, but... no rules against Caveman Games, right? No one said we had to fight /fair/." The old truck rattles as they roar down the road, and as cool and calm as Jes is acting, his knuckles are white on the wheel and the speedometer maxed out three minutes ago. "I'm putting it together as I go, Peach. I mean... a plan's a plan, but... you know, think on your feet." He sighs, then pulls out his pack of Nat Shermans, lighting one up and cracking his window. "Okay. So we show up, I pretend to be some small-time hood with a grow and bag op on the edge of town, I flash some cash, I buy some drinks. You're my girl, but we've got an open thing and you giggle and pretend you like a bald head or whatever. I know it's gross. We try to whittle the pack down to just three or so, and then I make some sort of distraction and we get Colleen and the other two girls outta there. After that... fuck. I guess we gotta take her back, but... she can stay in the other place. Maybe I get her to go back to Uncle Tommy, or... fuck. We deal with that tomorrow, okay?"

Isla places her hand on his shoulder. Not seductively, but with a kindness and understanding she does not normally show. "I got it, Jes. I'm with ye, and we'll get her. I'll do everything to help here. Ye are my beta, and my everything. I'll do anything to help out yer kin. But aye, she stays in the other lodge. Other side of the lake. Anything fer ye." She rubs her hand on his back. "Now dinnae kill us on the way there please."

"Thanks, hen," Jes says with an exhaled breath, puffing on his cigarette like it's delivering hits of calm with every breath. He smirks, taking the turn onto the freeway toward town. "Don't worry, we'll get there in one piece. Just... remind me to get a tune-up for this pile next week, it fucking needs it." He shakes his head, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses -- how DOES he see with those on? -- and blows smoke out his nose. The city lights aren't far now.

Isla laughs! She shakes her head. "Let's do it. I'll hang on you, and then distract and get them more interested in my ass. If they try anything I'll give 'em five across the eyes and they will nae know what hit 'em." She laughs again, trying to lighten the mood a bit. She can tell that he is all tense from this.

Jes grins, but his heart's not in it; this is family, and it's serious, and it's immediate. The sign says "WELCOME TO PROSPECT" and he's down to the speed limit, taking a right and a left and a right and a left before pulling into the parking lot of a taqueria and parking illegally behind a Prius and a Volvo before hopping out of the car. Even then, he's around the front of the cab and opening the passenger door, offering a hand up to Isla and saying, "You ready to be bad guys, Peach?" Isla takes Jes' hand and as she hops out, landing like those spike heels are always on her feet, her breasts just staying for now in that slutty dress. "Aye, let's take 'em out. I'll follow yer lead and when ye give me the signal, I'll start in with the guys."

Jes lights up another Nat Sherman with his Zippo and relaxing into his persona. He offers his arm, escorting her across the street to the shitty, run-down pub club with a smoking skinhead out front, and points at the upjumped boy-man before opening the front door and letting Isla enter first, striding right on in with his cigarette in his mouth like he owns the whole fucking place.

Inside is a bar with an exhausted-looking bartender in his sixties serving two skinny neo-Nazis shots of Jagermeister while a taller, muscular Skinhead leers over a booth containing two bleach-blondes and a pixie-cut redhead. Muscles smirks and grabs his crotch, saying, "Yeah, all my muscles are big, seriously," and none of the girls is impressed, though they're all acting like they are. The final Skinhead is over by the jukebox, nursing a beer and not talking to anyone, but has his eyes on the door. He whistles once when the duo walk in, and the two at the bar look up to see who the newcomers are.

Isla tosses her hair around, shaking off her normal persona and tries to get into the arm candy, slut role. She takes his arm with both of hers, and tries to get the most vacant bubble head look that she can. Once she steps inside she says to him, "Sweetie, how long is this going to take." She pouts her lips a bit to him. "I dinnae wanna get bored." Her eyes move from him to the other guys, and she grins, and tries to act all coy, slipping a bit of hair behind her ear. She sees the one that whistles and wiggles her fingers to him, and muscles gets a wink.

"Baby, you know I promised we'd stop by before we hit Nino's and deliver the blow," Jes replies in a cooing voice, loud enough to be heard by everyone on this half of the bar. "I told her we'd meet her friends and do the thing and no one would be the wiser. Now go shake your ass over to the bar and get yourself something to drink, okay?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gangster roll of cash, putting it in her hand and kissing her neck. "Top shelf, baby, don't let 'em give you that well swill." He sighs, puffing on his cigarette, and calls out like he doesn't see, "Hey, Cous! You called, I came, but I don't see the party!" "Woo-WOOOT!" calls the pixie redhead from the booth, declaring, "See? I told you my cousin would show up, and he /did/! Deej, tell 'em you got weed, right?" The skinheads all look at Jes, who grins broadly and says, "Oh, Cous, I've always got weed, but I've got blow and 'shrooms and... hi, I'm Deej, that's my cousin, that's my girl, treat her nice she's got a great ass and she kisses like your lips are the fuckin' antidote. Anyway, I was told this was a /party/, not a /funeral/." The two Skinheads at the bar are /very/ interested in Isla, though Muscles is more concerned at the entrance of another male. The Skinhead from outside has followed the duo in, and Jukebox isn't moving; he's got his eyes on everyone.

Isla takes the cash roll and blows a kiss to him before she struts over to the bar. Once she sidles up to the bar, she move right between the two skinheads. Her breasts nearly popping OUT of that dress. She leans a bit on the bar and bend one knee so a heel is raised behind her just a bit. "Heya, keep!" She waves a hand to the bartender calling him over to place an order. She thumbs through the cash and holds up a few 20s for him. "And be sure it is the best." She looks to the first skinhead and winks to him, and then to the other. "My my, well aren't ye two cute!! I really got a thing for bald guys. My guy refuses to shave his head for me. It certainly is great to grip and pull on when he goes down on me, but really I have /always/ wanted to feel a bald guy down there. I could cum /so/ hard fer that." But then she notices the muscle guy, and pushes back from the bar and walks toward him. "Well my oh my... now I love a bald guy, but one with muscle like yers? Fucking hell, you make me wet just lookin' at ye."

"Baby, you can grab my ears if you need somethin' to hold on to," says Beak, the Skinhead with the big nose, giving Isla a goofy grin and trying to appear smooth by leaning on the bar. Problematically, his knobby elbow knocks over a pint glass with a little beer in it, so the long-suffering bartender has to pick it up and mop up the spill before taking Isla's money and pouring her a Talisker with a single cube of ice. Gaps, the Skinhead counterpart on her other side who is missing every other tooth, says, "Girl, I got a dick you can hold onto instead," not worried at how fucking stupid that line is, but she's already gone and over to Muscles, who was annoyed but is now very, VERY interested in the redhead at his side.

"Fuck, Zizi, you trying to make me jealous?" Jes says jokingly, pointing at Muscles before replying, "Seriously, bro, I will totally trade you, though. I mean, for either blonde. Girls, hi, I'm Deej, I have enough blow and weed to keep you high until 'The Simpsons' gets canceled, seriously."

For his part, Muscles is suddenly very attentive to Isla, not-so-subtly flexing to show of a physique that... well, I mean, he obviously puts in some gym time, but he'd come in third at best in a local bodybuilding competition, and by 'local' that's 'community-wide'. "Hey, Red; I'm Dave," he says in a surprisingly high voice, putting a hand on Isla's arm. "You like this? I know you do."

Isla has to stop from laughing at his voice, and she strokes his arm. "Ooooo, ye are so strong." She puckers and kisses toward him. "I sure do like it." She rolls her eyes at Jes. She leans in to Dave and says in a stage whisper, "Ye know, I'm used to scrawny over there and all he does is drag me around to sell his merch. I really need a /real/ man that will give it to me good, and let me suck him off from time to time. Unlike that weasel that just lays there and makes me do all the work." She puts her other hand on Dave, and moves closer to him, so he can get a /really really/ good look at her rack. Gaia, please let this be a good distraction, so this plan will work.

Jes leans over to the bleach-blonde at the outside of the booth and says, "Hey, girl. Why don't you just head on out to the truck across the street and see if you can't find some party favors in the back, huh? Look hard, okay?" He winks at her, patting her arm, and sends her off and out the door past Fart, the foul-smelling Skinhead who was previously outside but who, upon following the Devils inside, smells like he shit his pants.

Dave. for his part, doesn't seem to realize he's got a comical voice, and holds his arms out to flex, which... yeah, it's not really impressive; legitimately, Jes flexes more impressively, this dude just has showier muscles when he's NOT flexing. He grabs his crotch again and says, "Honey, I promise, once you had THIS boa constrictor, you won't forget it. Why don't you follow me to the shitter and I'll show you?" "Hey, the deal is in /trade/, man," Jes replies to Dave, giving him a sharp look and looking at Blondie #2. "But hey, since your girlfriend is out looking for snacks, I think we can get acquainted, right?" The blonde nods nervously, and Jes grins, looking back to Isla and saying, "Okay, well, what I don't know won't hurt me, right?"

Isla giggles and almost snorts, "Aye. And ye dinnae know how to please a woman. C'mon Dave. Show me watcha got in there." She takes her hand off his arm, and lets it slide down his chest and across his crotch as she begins to walk toward the back where there is a faded sign for the bathroom. She will wait for him, letting him see her ass as that dress barely covers hers and shows that skimpy g-string she has on underneath. Once he catches up, she will enter the bathroom with him. Locking the door - if that works.

It really doesn't matter whether she leads him to the Men's or Women's restroom -- they're both just awful. Dave follows after, light on his feet, and when he steps in and she locks the door, he grins and says, "Yeah, that's what's up." He flexes again, and when he does, a high-pitched fart squeezes out, which he tries to play off with a cough and a bit of side-to-side movement before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his black jeans. Under that is a pair of briefs -- brand-new, surprisingly -- and under /that/ is a somewhat-surprising six-inch penis and a not-so-surprisingly shrunken pair of testicles that show a bit of steroid use. "Put them lips to werk on /that/, girl," he declares brazenly, though he doesn't let his pants go down further than his thighs -- looks like someone skips leg day.

Isla reaches out and takes gentle hold of his penis, and says, "Oh... that there is a big boa. I nae get something this delicious at home." She licks her lips, and as she begins to pump on it with her left hand, she balls up her right and swings to knock him out, while tugging /HARD/ on his cock.

Dave smirks and squeaks in his high voice, "Yeah, girl, that's what's up," spreading his arms wide and leaving himself /wide/ open when she swings. She his him square in the face, knocking his head back against the bathroom wall, and he falls right on his ass with his cock still in her hand, totally dazed. "What... what?" he mumbles, holding up both of his hands. "I don't...."

Isla crouches down, right in front of him, still with a grip on his cock. "Listen up, DAVE. I'm too much of a woman fer ye, and fucking ye in a filthy craphole like this is /nae/ my style. Time to go night, buddy." She quickly moves that fist back and punches him again, going for the knockout blow.

Dave is confused, but not so much that he doesn't attempt to move his face away from her fist, for all the good it does him. One more punch and he's out, unconscious on the Ladies' Room floor and bleeding from the mouth. It's undignified, but then, so was he.

When Isla decides to rejoin the party, she'll find Jes holding court with a drink in either hand and a cigarette between his lips, declaring, "Observe!" He takes a deep drag on his Nat Sherman, then puts the first whiskey up against the right side of his mouth, downing it before using his lips to roll the cigarette to that side and putting the second whiskey to the /other/ side of his mouth and downing /that/. Once they're both down, he plucks the cigarette from his lips and blows a perfect smoke ring, to the great amusement of Juke, Beak, Gaps, and Fart, who all laugh and clap at the trick. Blondie #1 is still gone, which they haven't seemed to notice, and Blondie #2 is quietly talking to Colleen, who is patting her hand and gesturing to Jes while she speaks.

As Isla emerges, Juke looks over at her and asks in a nasally voice, "Where's Dave?"

Isla licks her lips, "Dave's... recovering. He blew his wad far too quickly since I'm just that.damn.good." She waggles her eyebrows, adjusting her dress and pulling it down a tad since it did move up when she crouched. "He'll be back out once he can see straight again. Now, I need a drink. I can still taste his spunk in my mouth." She walks to the bar and picks up her drink that was still there and downs it, and slams it on the bar. "I'm BORED again."

"Awww, shit, guys; Zizi's bored," Jes declares dramatically, pointing at her with his cigarette. "I guess Dave was a one-minute miracle. Shit, that ain't worth writing in a diary!" He rolls up to the bar again, dropping another twenty, and says, "You try to give me Protestant whiskey again and I'll call the liquor board," with the long-suffering bartender shaking his head and pouring three fingers of Jameson for the Ragabash. Jes raises the glass, pointing at Isla, and says, "To Zizi, who has yet to drink her fill, huh?" He downs his three shots, tossing the empty shotglass to Fart, who catches it and bobbles it before dropping it on the floor and breaking it. "That's on him!" Jes declares, much to the delight of Beak and Gaps.

Juke, for his part, ambles over to Isla, feeling a bit confident, and says in his nasally voice, "Hey, I know Dave looks like he's somethin', but if you wanna know what's what, girly, I'll show you somethin' you ain't never seen."

Isla giggles, "Eh? Ye got a 10" dick? I always wanted to suck one of those. Hell, I'll take anything over the pathetic pencil of that one and Dave back there." She rubs up closer to him. "I need it.. bad. My pussy is so wet and throbbing right now. Show me a good time?" She mockingly bites toward him and then tosses her curly red locks behind her. At that moment a string pops on the lace of the dress, right across her breasts. "I'm not sure how much longer I can even keep this dress on."

"Ten? Girl, you're thinkin' in metric; this is America. Imperial is twelve," Juke replies confidently, taking a shot of Jack from the bartender and throwing it back. "Tell you what; you fuck me good enough, we can talk bar tabs. My card's on file; could be you can ride that credit if you can ride that dick." He shrugs, patting his waistband, and gestures to the Men's Room. "Ladies first."

Isla begins to walk toward the men's room, and then turns back towards him, and comes up to him close, her hand rubbing his crotch as she lays a kiss right on his lips, biting his lower lip a bit, and then biting her own as she grins moving away. "Just a wee taste.... c'mon, I want that dick of yers now." She winks and walks off again to the Men's Room and waits by the door for him.

Juke isn't quite prepared for that, taking the kiss like a surprise attack and the hand on his crotch like an affront. He wiggles back, but when she keeps up her act, he smirks, trying to regain his cool by sauntering into the Men's Room. "You won't be disappointed," he replies in that nasally voice, but his hands are definitely forward and away from his back when he does so.

Isla opens the door and waits for Juke to come inside. Once he does, she pulls at the strings holding that dress together a bit and lifts up the hem of her dress slipping off that g-string. Got to give him at least a show. "Ye want me to release your massive cock, suck you off first, or go right for the main course and get it into my hot, wet pussy?"

"Yeah, about that," Juke replies as he steps in, spreading his hands. "I was maybe exaggerating a bit about my dick, y'know? And probably a lot more about how hot you are, because, let's be real; opinions are gonna differ. And since you're not gonna tell anyone anyway, my tastes kinda run a bit less toward Zizi and a bit more toward Dave. But even that's a stretch." He sighs, shaking his head, and turns to look at her. "But you wanna know what I really like? What really gets my naughty, bulbous parts all tingly? Fear. And right about now, I bet you're really, really afraid, because... let's be real." He leans against the door, holding it closed, and smirks. "I think at this point you know you're not walking out of here without some blood."

Isla raises her eyebrows, "Fear? Ye want to know Fear? I can show ye fear, and blood. But ye ain't gonna like that." She reaches for that gstring and put it back on, and resecures the dress. "If I had another stitch of clothing to put on, I'd show you real fear right now and ye wouldn't make it outta here in one piece. Now if we ain't gonna fuck, I'm just going to give you the treatment Dave got." And with that she takes her foot in those heels to smash his foot before going to punch him in the face.

Isla swings and misses -- not out of skill, but out of constriction due to outfit -- and she's robbed of full punch extension, but hey, both of her tits pop RIGHT out of that outfit, beautiful and perfect and not at all invited to this donnybrook. Juke smirks, laughing to himself, and steps back a foot, reaching behind his back and pulling out a .357 Colt Python and spinning the chamber. "Oh, I almost felt bad there for a second," he smirks, shaking his head. "But apparently you're one of them fighty bitches. That's cool; you'll be prettier when you're ugly." He doesn't bother to aim, licking his lips; it's a power move, meant to intimidate.

For FUCKS SAKE! Now was /not the time for the dress to malfunction. FINE. Isla laughs at Juke, not buying it for a moment. "Oh ain't that pretty and shiny." She pulls down the dress and lets it just fall to the floor. "Fuck this dress. I can do so much better without it." Then the gstring is pushed down and she stands there naked. "Now, let's do this the /right/ way." She moves to kick him right in the crotch and then take the gun away from him.

She kicks, and Juke smirks, firing guilelessly in her direction and grazing her shoulder. It's all fun and games until she shifts, and suddenly he's in shock, panicking and pissing himself. "What... what... what...?" he asks pointlessly, barely registering her claws tearing at his flesh.

Isla tries to take this guy too, but fuck it, Homid just ain't getting the job done. After he grazes her shoulder with the bullet, and she swipes not getting any better of him, she has had /enough/ She is MAD AS HELL and SHE AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE! Shifting up to Crinos, she swipes now with her claws, her body now covered in flaming red fur. This guy wanted fear and blood? Checkmate.

This morning, when Juke woke up, he thought to himself, "You know, Dave may be bigger and better-looking, but I'm smarter and cagier and I get what I want." And he was right for about 10 hours. But then he lured a girl into a bathroom just to hurt her, because that's what works for him, and that did not turn out well. Now he's covered in piss and blood, and the best he can manage is to fire off another shot with his Colt Python before dropping it, falling to his knees and saying, "But... but I'm the leader." And with a couple more well placed swipes, Fiery Bellona has taken charge of the 'situation' and rips this guy to pieces and he is just crumpled there on the floor. Before the blood reaches her 'dress', she shifts back down to Homid, picks it up and slips it all back on. Now picking up the gun, she waves her other hand to the guy. "Ye may have been the leader, but I'm the fucking Alpha. Ye can nae pull this shit on me. With that she opens the door and steps out, kicking him further back, locking the door and shutting it. Just 3 more guys left, and two are pretty pathetic. The leader gone, she will walk back out, holding the gun behind her back, a grin on her face.

Oh, she'll be so proud; what Isla steps back out into is fucking /beautiful/. Beak is on his knees, hands in the air, and Fart is knocked ENTIRELY the fuck out, nose broken, while Gaps grabs his leg and moans on the floor and the bartender just sighs and shakes his head behind the counter. Jes is there with his gun out, yelling, "Fess the FUCK UP! Who's the narc, huh? When Nino hears about this, bald fuckin' heads are gonna ROLL, motherfuckers!" He looks to Isla, smirking slightly, then says, "Zizi, get these girls to the MOTHERFUCKING ESCALADE and tell them to SHUT THE FUCK UP 'til we get to Nino's on Antietam, because I ain't got SHIT ALL to say to them 'til then! Barkeep, you got your money; you call the cops, you BETTER tell 'em it was four Mexicans shot up your joint, you fuckin' HEAR? And hey, baldies; you say SHIT, I will FUCK your MOTHERS, understood?"

Isla grins, "Well, well, Deej, ye did good." She gestures with one hand to the girls, and then reveals the gun in her other hand. "C'mon girls. Let's blow this joint." She walks up next to Jes and whispers in his ear, telling him very shortly, "Ripped guy in the bathroom." She heads toward the door with the girls and gets them out of there.

Jes nods to her, giving Isla and the girls a minute to leave before yelling, "Any of you fucking pricks MOVE and I eat your fucking HEARTS for BREAKFAST!". He tosses the bartender a thick gangster roll of cash and kicks Fart in the face for good measure before closing and locking the door behind him, calling out to the girls, "Don't panic, everyone's getting home safe tonight, I /swear/," catching sight of Blondie #1 in the truck bay and saying, "No, seriously, this is a rescue; don't panic, there are no drugs in there." Colleen does her best to confirm this, and when Jes and Isla are both near the truck, he declares, "Girls in the back, lady in the cabin, we're only going six blocks so don't panic!" and hopping in the driver's seat to get ready to roll.

Isla giggles and makes sure the girls are in before she hops in herself. "Alright, let's roll Sprinkles." She pulls at parts of her dress a bit, still it isn't quite right. "Fucking hell, why do people wear this stuff? And where do you want this gun?"

"Fuck YEAH I want that gun, baby," Jes replies with a laugh, taking the Colt and looking it over. "You get me the nicest things," he says with a laugh, putting it on the dashboard and driving three blocks east, three blocks south. Once they're there, he steps out and talks to Colleen and the girls before calling the Blondies each an Uber to get them home, at which point Colleen jumps into the cab and Jes begins the drive home. "Peach, Colleen O'Boyle. Colleen, Isla Ennes Fiery Bellona, my Alpha and the One True Boss. For real, you're welcome to stay at our place, but only as long as /she/ says, so /be nice/." He winks at Isla, and Colleen is mostly silent on the way back, respecting that she is, in fact, in their debt.