Tuesday, October 2nd, 2018- The Monte Carlo Quarter, Monaco
Jimmy'z Monte-Carlo
Upon later reflection, it likely would have been better for you to have remembered yourself, to have thought first about the setting and the situation, about the witnesses to the crime but you hadn't- you'd simply turned around and swung.
Max, to his credit, hadn't hesitated, he hadn't flinched, he hadn't even tried to defend himself.
No, he'd taken it, as the guilty party always should, but rarely does.
Perhaps that should have been enough, should have given you pause, or prompted you to think the matter through once again, but you hadn't. The conviction had been carried out, Max had been charged, and this, this was merely your part in it all, carrying out the sentence he'd rightfully been handed down.
That was not to say there was only one guilty party, there's no doubt in your mind that to some degree, Cassandra is as much to blame for what has just happened as Max is but, that being said, you don't have enough evidence for any of that at present so for now, you focus on the primary party at fault.
Things would have gone from bad to worse if Dan hadn't shown up as quickly as he had, appearing out of thin air like it was nothing, like he'd been conjured into being by the chaos of conflict, drawn to the exact point in the very midst of the crowded dance floor in the blink of an eye, pulling you off Max before you have a chance to take another swing.
"Oh, for the love of God," he mutters to himself, shaking his head disbelief, his voice dripping with disapproval as he pushes Cassandra aside, wrapping both arms around you from behind and hauling you backwards, keeping you pinned tightly to his chest, immobilizing your upper body and preventing you from doing any further damage, "can't leave the two of you alone for a fucking second before everything goes to shit."
You take a well-aimed kick at Max since your legs are still mostly viable for inflicting injury, a considerable oversight on Daniel's part, which you waste no time to capitalize on, knowing full well that the window of opportunity is fleeting, lasting only until the Australian catches on to your latest strategy of attack.
"Would you stop that?" He sounds less than amused, the rolling of his eye is audible in his tone, "seriously- cut it out!" Daniel, realizing that you're not in the mood for listening, takes matters into his own hands, setting you down for a split second, just barely long enough to turn you around and toss you over his shoulder, "serves you fucking right."
"Daniel, fucking put me down!" You demand, pounding on his back with your fists, beyond furious at your present predicament, "I swear to fucking God, I'll-"
"You'll what?" He snorts, chuckling to himself as he winds his way through the club, eyes set on a back exit, "lose your job? Get banned from Jimmy'z? Kill Max?"
"Fuck you," you spit at Daniel.
"Didn't really think it through, huh?" You don't respond so he simply continues, "you'll thank me in the morning."
"I won't be thanking you for jack shit, you busy body bitch!"
"Believe me, you will," Daniel doesn't even bother to put you down before he's flagging down a taxi, "so, you going to tell me what the hell just happened now or is it going to be later?"
"Fuck you," is the only thing that comes to mind so you go with, electing to ignore the fact that you've already used this line.
"Later it is," he says with a shrug, setting you down and pushing you through the open door of the cab that had wasted no time in coming to a sudden stop at the curb in front of the pair of you, sending you tumbling unceremoniously forward into the backseat without further ado.
