His Woman

Fist fight

Third person
Candace didn't party often as a teen, just wasn't this magical thing like it was for other people her age. Sure she went a few times, mainly because her at the time, friends wanted her to. Those friends were more after her money or the status you got hanging around her. The times they did go, they tried to get her to pay, she of course politely turned it down. She knew what they were doing but didn't want to come off as rude or a loner. They went to "have fun". Which is basically get drunk, and fucked in the club bathroom. That was not her definition of fun. She went not because of her friends; though that was a factor; she went to get a little buzzed and dance. She was not one for late nights out blacking out and waking up in someone's bed. Not her at all.
She decided to try night clubs again, there's only so much fun you can have stationed in Iraq, she's earned the right to go a little crazy. She's earned it.
Candace wasn't a small dress type of girl. She loved vintage style. She loved the 50s in particular. This was a time when there was more vibrant colors in clothes. Not as vibrant as the seventies, but that's something she liked. The 50s had enough color to be cute without it too over the top. And the styles! She could go on for hours about the styles. Truly something she loved.
She put on a button floral halter top, and some button high waisted straight leg pants. Still 50s but also acceptable club wear. She looked in the mirror and smiled. The look wasn't done yet. Candace didn't have very long hair, it's hard to maintain and she just doesn't have the patience for that. Her hair goes a little past her shoulder, long enough for a regulation bun, short enough for it to be easy. She took her curling iron and made large loose waves. Satisfied with her appearance she grabbed a bag. A small light gray clutch with a gold chain.
She decided to walk, driving while drunk is bad kids. The line was fast and only waited a couple minutes.
The inside was beautiful. Black surfaces and red lights. It was classy and beautiful. Candace went to the bar, it was absolutely packed. On the way she bumped into a man.
Before she could apologize the man, clearly intoxicated started yelling. It didn't attract any eyes as the music was quite loud in this area. Candace was confused. It was a simple mistake and he was throwing a tantrum. So... not the brightest idea, but she called him out on it.
"Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over me accidentally bumping you?" She asked brows furrowed genuinely confused.
He, as you'd expect, did NOT like that. He stopped yelling, his anger stated bubbling and Candace could tell he was about to get physical. Trying to avoid getting into a fight and kicked out before she had any alcohol, she ran, discreetly. Weaving through people dancing trying not to bother or bump into them. She weaves through people looking back before she walked into a wall. She let out a small yelp. The wall, caught her. Wait what?... She opened her eyes, and turns out. Not a wall! She stared at the man wide eye for a second not expecting this than she remembered.
"Oh shit..." she stood up leaving the man baffled. She turned back to him and said, "You're tall, can you see a big, 6'3 angry man looking around?"
"You okay?" He asked he asked with a delightful French accent.
"Are you referring to the falling, or the ugly bitch trying to start a fist fight?" Candace asked as if this was normal.
He laughed, "You're awfully calm for a woman running from a violent man." He joked.
"I'm not scared of him, I'm scared that I'll kicked out if I beat his ass. I came here to drink and have a nice time. If I wanted to fight someone there are much better places to go."