puppy love (alver x og cale)

Part 2

How to explain the chaos of that night?

Cale was the sort of person who rolled with the punches, and as life had many a punch to offer him, he tended to take things as they came.

Of course his own uniquely stubborn spin on taking punches usually meant that he headbutted the fist.

Not really everyone's definition of 'rolling with the punches' but he made it work.

Quite literally in the case of the bar fight.

Cale Henituse hadn't come to this bar to kick up a fuss. Unlike a great deal of his other excursions to drink himself senseless, he'd actually planned to have a quiet drink and maybe only break a stool or two on his way out.

He had a reputation to maintain after all.

But since he accepted things as they were, it was rather inevitable that he was going to break that man's knuckle with his skull.

That was just the sort of man Cale was.

At twenty-two years old, Cale had accumulated enough experience in unorthodox bar fighting to fill a lifetime of an average drunkard.

It had started in a stupid way.

"Who do you think you're looking at?"

Cale looked up from his drink, the true direction of his gaze, and raised an eyebrow at the lowlife who was clearly looking to start something.

Cale considered his words carefully, kicking his legs up onto the table as he stared down the insignificant bastard who decided to start something with him. "I'm not sure. Who exactly are you?" Cale asked with the arrogant undertone that could be heard by all those present that the correct answer was I'm nobody.

Steam practically rolled from his ears but a more cognizant and less drunk companion held his shoulder and shook his head.

At least one in the party had an idea of exactly how unadvisable it was to pick a fight with a noble.

At least not with so many witnesses.

Cale sneered at them as they shuffled past, scowling and cursing him as they went.

His drinking partner was late.

Cale frowned down at his drink. It was delicious but tasted bitter when drunk alone.

"...is he coming?" Cale asked himself in a low voice as he nibbled at the chicken he'd ordered along with his wine. The chicken was significantly less impressive tasting than the alcohol and it did nothing to fill the empty feeling pooling in his gut.

The noise of the tavern around him grew in volume as the same loud bastard from before started yelling.

Annoyance tickled the back of Cale's head as he listened half-heartedly.

"You dare to talk back to me?!"

Cale really just wanted to have a quiet drink.

"Please–! I didn't mean to!"

Cale's eyes lingered at the front door that showed no signs of opening.

He was supposed to be here about thirty minutes ago.

Cale picked up a bottle, chugging the sweet wine gracelessly before wiping his lips and throwing the bottle in the precise direction of the noise.

Cale stood up, stretching out and cracking his neck as the litany of curses reached his ears.

Finally the violent drunkard recognized who'd done it and locked eyes with Cale furiously. "You–!" He hissed angrily, marching over to Cale and grabbing him by the collar with such force that he was nearly lifted from the ground.