THE BROTHERHOOD OF LIGHT

act i // part three.

There's something exhilarating about working the witch up like this—making him so angry that he wants to do something, but Apollo knows that he can't do a damn thing without doing something to himself. He can however, push the witch as far as he wants, and for now, he won't have to face the consequences of that—at least not magically. So, what does he do? As those teeth are bared slightly and those fists are balled up, Apollo just shoots him a cocky smirk, one that says he knows he's getting under the witch's skin.

"Aye, bruh," Apollo says to Daps, not once taking his eyes off of Eazy, one hand going up to stick up two long fingers, "make that two bottles."

Apollo gives Eazy one last, threatening once over, before brushing past him to sit at the bar. He raps his knuckles against the bar top, looking at Eazy and gesturing to the barstool next to him. "You not gon' be able to out drink me. If ya think ya can, ya sadly mistaken."

Once again, that toxic masculinity that Apollo was bred and smothered in rears its ugly head. Never back down from a challenge. Especially a challenge issued by someone that society views as less than a man—even if Apollo isn't as completely straight as he claims to be. He doesn't even care that he's the underdog in this situation, seeing as they're at a gay bar and Eazy has already painted him out to be a homophobe.

Eazy thinks that cocky smirk needs to be never aimed at him ever again. He hates how angry Apollo makes him—oh yeah, he's definitely going to have to start drinking soon before he spitefully punches himself in the face.

A signature clink of the bottles next to each other, Daps pulls back the corners of his lips, making a 'yikes' face. Not only will they both probably hella die if they attempt to drink this much fucking liquor, but if they make it out alive, the check will be lit.

Eazy doesn't calm down until he takes his first swig from the bottle. He swallows down a double shot and exhales a rough breath as the liquor goes down his throat. It yanks away his thoughts about satisfactorily punching Apollo in his face just enough for him to not be completely mad, but he's still very much frustrated.

"There's a lot of people who've said that to me before, doesn't really turn out well for them. Just so you know."

The hunter lets the witch take the first swig, watching him through slightly slanted eyes as he drinks, and then immediately Apollo feels the burn of the liquor down his own throat.

Oh, right. I ain't think about that.

So, what does he do? Why, what any man whose masculinity has been threatened when he's not secure about it in the first place does, he one-ups the other man. Apollo brings the bottle to his lips, large hand gripping the neck of the bottle, and he tips it back to let it flow into his mouth—one swig, two swig, three swig, four swig—and he brings the bottle back down on bar as he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head slightly from the intense burn. Maybe he shouldn't have signed up for this.

"Well," Apollo swallows again. "I guess issa good thang I ain' most people." His eyes scan the bar again, taking in the vast array of people, and wondering for a split second what it would be like to be a part of a community like this—someplace he actually feels like he belongs. Then he reminds himself that he belongs to the brotherhood—and that most of all he's straight, even though shorty in the turtleneck over by the wall ain't too bad looking. Apollo looks back at at the witch. "So, Eaz, where you work security at?"

Was he making small talk now? Of course. He's trying to find another way to annoy him, and to do that he has to pick his brain first, and hopefully gain more knowledge on this witch and where he comes from. Taking a witch's head back to his father was good, but do that and gaining intel on other witches is even better.