Trailed and Taken

How many had Dean had?

Maybe five beers or so, a few whiskey on the rocks, too much. To say he was drunk was a harsh understatement and while he didn't want to admit it, it showed in the sway of Dean's steps, his messy body language, stumbling right against Roman's back after he'd just conquered his fourth game of pool.

"Mmh, I won agaaaain. . ."

Chuckling with his words rolling off on slurs, Dean laughed drunkenly against the Samoan's back before seating himself in a clumsy manner in the barstool right beside his companion. It was a goddamn miracle that he managed to win his fourth game out of five, simply because he'd pocketed the eight ball and damn near broke a bottle over the other guy's head for accused distracting.

The russet-haired scrapper lightly pushed at Roman's bicep, offering out another foamy, golden brew out to his best friend before leaning most of his weight onto the oak of the bar, soft music playing in the background for that vintage bar atmosphere and smoke hung lazily in the air like ghosts from cigarettes, which Dean was itching for even if he nipped the habit long ago.

"That pretty blonde over there is checkin' ya' out, brotha'.~"

Nearly singing his response, the Cincinnati native cooed and shit a glance over to a girl in the corner, who was biting her painted, cherry red lips like she was undressing Roman with her eyes.

And she was.

"Think she's starin' a hole in the side of your head, Ro'. . ."

Even after the Samoan replied negatively to Dean over a million times, the Ohioan managed to walk his way out of it and forced his best friend and perhaps, at this time, the only friend to drive over the restricted town site. The midnight hour had already taken over and they were flashing around their leftover memories drunk in an unknown bar of an anonymous location.

The peculiarity of the Lunatic was on complete display, His raspy voice echoed around the vicinity outdoing everyone else's. Could you blame the beast for his nature? Certainly not. The tipsy positions casted on by the Cincinnati resident were adding as fuel to Roman's already blurry vision.

The Samoans digits gripped the Lunatic  by his arm even though it just seemed as a formality, as it barely held the other man straight, Roman hadn't forgotten his duties as the wiser man between the two. The other man might have gotten too much for Roman to handle, The man himself had a few shots but enough not to knock himself into oblivion.

He was well aware of the situation, well enlightened on how the Ohioan ended up wasted in bars countless times. Even though it was the ideal, most absolute atmosphere for both the men the game of pool had gotten pretty much, stale to the Samoan.

While the member of the gentle sex casted mixed signals over to the big dawg, He found her as a beacon of hope, Perhaps the lady was of aid during the time of this utmost darkness? Perhaps she knew the directions out of the swamp that they were stuck in? Looking around there wasn't any other option. The fresh face of the lady reflected less staleness than the others laying around wasted.

"Wait here bud!" He muttered out pulling the maniac down to the stool by the hems of his worn out plain black shirt.

Stretching his legs over to the other side he waved at the woman who, in fact, haven't had the time to stroll her hazel hues away from the Samoan.