&&__the fourth drink {instinct} // tag Pyro

[Pyro]

Okay, crikey. He had to be getting to near legendary status as far as wanted terrorists went if his mere name was causing damage.

John only flinched slightly at the shattering, growling under his breath ”Thank fuck you didn’t kill the JD’s, Irish” – because that really would have been a disaster, and he’d have had to slip into his *business identity* -and downing another shot before taking in that… oh yeah. For everyone else this wasn’t normal, was it?

”Ah… right” He slapped his hand to his forehead in a duh! gesture. ”This would be the part where I point and shout *mutant*, right? And then they make with the running and the screaming… so, erm…” = *ahem*. Clearing his throat, and shifting on his stool, he attempted to capture the appropriately melodramatic tone, turning and pointing with a theatrical little show of surprise… though in the end it came out more bored than anything else – ”Fuck. It’s a mutant”

[siryn]

”Fuck. It’s a mutant”

With those last words of John's, the bar became as quiet as hell, you could almost hear a pin dropping. It seemed as if all the people were trying to swallow the information that had just reached their brains, thinking over what the kid said towards Terry.

Fuck. He's right.

"Get out of my joint, ya goddamn freak!" The silence was broken by the bartender AND the owener of his so called 'joint'. He took out a a large hunting gun from behind the counter, the type of weapon bar owners use to blast the asses off of rebellious customers. The rest of the visitors were either frozen by fear or hurried down towards the exit to avoid the scene, which could most likely end in disaster. Smart people, the latter ones.

Upon laying eyes on the gun, Terry took a moment to reach into her senses. Gun. This is a gun. Bullets. It shoots bullets. It shoo....Oh feck.

Alas, Terry felt the danger of the situation too late. While her dim movements were beggining to get alarmed, the trigger was already pulled and the bullet launched, flying towards Terry with such speed that a drunken person simply cannot apprehend.

Thunk

At first, Siryn felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Alcohol, especially whiskey, had the ability to preserve pain, it took some time before the nerve cells got around to sending a warning to the brain. Unfortunately, it didn't take long.

Terry felt a burning pain rage across her entire leg as the foreign body sunk deeper into the skin of her thigh. It was like being frozen and burnt at the same time, while cutting your wrists. From the inside. A yelp left the girls' lips as she fell down upon the ground, clutching the bleeding wound with her hands. Her head was empty, concentrated only on the pain. But just for the minute. Soon, the feeling would be replaced by a much more dangerous emotion... Well, dangerous to people with the ability to hear...