After the Storm

Drunk Fun (Part 2)

Sorry for late update! I'm having my exams sigh.

Credits to @noor0211 for her chapter suggestion on Mr Ambrose becoming clingy to our favourite lady protagonist. It inspired this chaper teehee. (°з°)-♡

P.s. I read every comment. Sorry that I can't reply to everyone but just know that I'm lurking  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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Kī naraka: What the hell in Punjabi.

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"Hm. Can't say I can see what's so special about you. Can you, men?"

Chuckles and jeers sounded from the gang. They raised their rust gilded knives and guns in a display of their supposed superiority.

Heck! I'll show them who's better with a few solid kicks between their legs!

Speaking of which, what is between their legs?

I pondered over that for a moment. I wasn't absolutely certain of what strange male anatomy existed at where their legs connected, but I knew that it hurt to get knocked where the sun didn't shine. It was a generally good idea to attack a guy there.

Mr Ambrose's hazy gaze drifted from man to man. It looked as if he were trying to freeze them all with just a glance, but acting like a sloth that had just been conked silly on the head wasn't a conventional intimidating image.

"You look like something that crawled out of the gutter, apart from that pretty face of yours." The leader of the gang spat.

I nudged my boss indiscreetly in the ribs. "You should thank him."

Mr Ambrose tilted his head and scrunched his eyebrows in a way that reminded me of a sleepy child. "What for?"

"He called you pretty."

The men guffawed. "I like this bloke!" One of them, an average sized man with a not so average dirt infested moustache, crowed. "Maybe I'll kill him last."

I coughed as mannishly as I could.  "Thanks. And maybe I won't saw your limbs off but just stab you quickly."

The guy who spoke out gave a crooked grin, exposing his rotting teeth. I mentally cringed. "No problem."

Hmm. The lad, although looking like a sewage rat, didn't seem too bad. He might even be good company for a pint when we weren't going to try slicing each other's throats open.

"Enough talk!" His chief turned around and barked at his men. "We're here for business, not chit chat."

The thug with impressive but soddy facial hair scowled. He clearly didn't like his leader.

The snappy hooligan in charge reverted his leering gaze to Mr Ambrose. "Your brains must be from the gutter too. Fancy drinking a drugged drink." His smirk grew wider. "I can't see why we were told by that posh bloke to remind you who is in charge. You're clearly worth less than a penny."

From experience, a penny was worth quite a damn lot to Mr miser Ambrose.

I spied a guy laughing even harder than the rest of his companions. He was the guy who drugged Mr Ambrose! I recognised him from his muddy coat and his small frame.

I clenched my fist, knuckles aching to make contact with his grubby cheek.

On normal circumstances, I would have laughed with them. Mr Ambrose looked hilarious with his addled mind and sluggish movements. He too was indeed quite silly at the best of times, especially with his relationship with that shrew! One would think he's got more brains in him when choosing women.