BRAWLER WANTED

[Bull] Bull-eve

      ミ★ Third person POV
      ミ★ 1800+ words
      ミ★ Requested by @bluujay_books
      ミ★ Notes : Carl coming in clutch

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Loud booms of music echo throughout the bar, chatter and laughter masked underneath the noise. Poco sung his soul out into the microphone, strumming his guitar like no tomorrow.

Spike, who sat a few feet away from him on stage, ran their fingers on the keys on the piano. Looking over towards the audience, a smile grows wide on its expression. Most people were bobbing their heads to the music, with the exception of a few individuals.

Across the room was [F/n], seated before Barley's station. She takes a swig of the bottle in her hands carelessly, chugging its contents till the last drop. Dragging it back onto the table, she waves the bartender over.

Barley, who looked the least bit amused, approached her as requested. He rests his robot arm on the table, leaning towards her slightly. A knowing and disappointed sigh follows.

"You're going to the championships soon, you aren't happy?"

Her grip on the bottle hardens, a crack runs down the glass from her palm. "More rum." She demands. Barley takes the container away from her, placing it somewhere under him. Reaching behind him, he grabs what was desired, uncapping it with an opener.

Passing the drink to her, [e/c] eyes swell with tears. A frown grows on her. "Of course not, why the hell would I be." She growls.

Barley pulls up a glass cup, grabbing a damp cloth. He rubs the inside of it silently, cleaning off any stains he spotted. "Well." He begins, keeping his gaze on the objects. "You worked immensely hard for this, it's strange to think you'd be upset over it."

The robot's words burn into her mind achingly, he has a solid point. She did want this, to excel, somewhere beyond Brawl Stars.

What she didn't want was to grow so attached to these people. Despite knowing the overwhelming odds she'd have to leave them eventually, she unintentionally allowed them to get close to her. Her lips meet that of the bottle's. She takes a sip begrudgingly.

Barley halts his cleaning, looking up at her. "It's him isn't it?" [F/n]'s tones brush a soft pink, she takes another sip. A soft smile comes from the robot's expression. "You'd best tell him soon then, otherwise you'll regret it later."

[E/c] eyes trail over towards his table. Bull sat alongside Crow, his lips forming words she couldn't hear. Her heart drums faster merely by looking at him, she hated it, how he affected her without even needing to do anything. A single tear falls, which was quickly cleaned off.

"No pressure, of course."

[F/n] darts her head at him, veins nearly popping out of her forehead. "Do what you think is best." Placing the bottle down, her hand meets silky [h/c] hair. A groan of defeat rolls out of her.

"I need help."

Barley blinks in surprise, quickly rubbing it off as he ponders audibly with a hum. Tossing aside the rag in his hands, he points over at Mortis. The grave keeper notices near immediately, coming over just as he's called.