Good as dead (Zander)

[Zephyr]

It’s surprising how easy it’s gotten, the drinking and the picking fights. It had been like this before the pack, working and drinking and collapsing at home at the end of the night. It had never been this bad before. He’d always controlled his drinking, moderated how much he drank. Now there are times in the recent past where Silas couldn’t even remember what had happened. It’s all a blur of too much alcohol, fists and too many curses.

He’d just gotten off of a forty eight hour shift. He would have worked longer easily if he hadn’t been kicked out of the hospital. And that’s nearly literal. When Silas wants to stay working, it’s difficult to get him to leave. When he had been forced to leave, he went straight to the nearest bar, a usual haunt for the werewolf. He’s pretty sure that the bartender doesn’t make it a habit of letting patrons drink themselves into a stupor, but Silas pays him well to keep the alcohol flowing, and flowing it is.

The bourbon is good. It staves off the bone deep exhaustion that his body wants to succumb to; stretches out his night so that he doesn’t have to go home anytime soon. Sure. He’ll have to go home eventually, but for now the werewolf is content to sit in the corner, nursing his nearly empty glass of bourbon and his shredded pride. It’s just easier to drink and ignore the pain of having everything and then suddenly having nothing at all. He knows, deep down, that one day he’ll have to suck it up and face his problems, but there’s no way that has to be now, and Silas is going to make damn sure that he stretches it out as long as possible so that he doesn’t have to be conscious for the inevitable regret that comes after.

At least he’s frequented this bar enough that most everyone seems to know to stay the fuck away from him. The look in the surgeon’s eye is nothing short of simply murderous, even people who give him a wide berth are not spared a vicious look and a rumbling growl. Even as the alcohol numbs his mind and softens the edge of his anger, he still growls and rumbles, even if it’s distracted and halfhearted, completely focused on the alcohol at this point.

Silas isn’t drunk yet, but he’s making a damn good go of it.

[Zander Burke]

Zander had only gotten off of his eleven hour shift, and even after a ridiculously hard day, this guy was ready to hit the beer. Now he could have just bought a case and drank cheaply at home... but Mr. Burke was in a socializing mood. That usually meant he was rearing to go, pound the beers back... and maybe get into a scrap or two. There was nothing personal about Zander picking fights, you either pissed him off, or he was bored and you looked like you needed something to do -- actually the honest reason was Zander has a big mouth and it usually gets punched. When he is sober he can try to talk past the on coming rush... but once the beers cloud his mind he just goes for it.

The cab pulled beside the bar, Zander paid the man and stumbled out. Okay so he had a fe- four to six beers before calling the cab. The bar was fun... but it could get pretty pricey and his wallet can only handle so much abuse. For tonight Zander was dressed pretty casually (like always) sporting a red and black tee with baggy blue jeans and beat up sneakers. So he was sure to look like any other douche to walk into that bar, head held high and a very obnoxious air about him. Tonight was going to be goood and not even murderous glares were going to deter him from feeling good.

Zander pretty much made a bee-line for the bar ducking around everyone. Once he was there he immediately called for a beer, the bar tender gave him the once over, probably not impressed with Zander demanding his attention. But a pint was sent his way, to his surprise without too much of a fuss. So far so good. Most of everyone were mingling with friends and crowds, hard to get a word in edge wise when some dick shoves him away accusing him of hitting on his chatty girlfriend.

Brown and blue eyes scan the bar as he drinks, and they suddenly land on a sour looking fellow in the corner. The bastard looked to be a little too enthralled with his... whatever he was drinking to notice Zander size him up. The bartender gives Zander a look before turning his back. His eyes light up all mischievous like and he downs the rest of his beer. The construction guy wastes no time in approaching the sour looking guy in the corner, taking a seat next to him with a grin.

But before anything is said he catches the scent of the drink and immediately recoils. "What the fuck are you drinking? Who drinks that shit?" the faux disgusted look soon faded as his mischievous smile returned, "No but seriously, why are you alone in the corner? The fun is out there." he stated waving his arm vaguely in the direction of the people who knew to leave Silas alone. Zander knew full well what he was doing, and he didn't give a shit. His attention left Silas for a moment as he called for another drink, motioning the bartender over with one hand.

[Zephyr]

It would have been a nicer evening if the surgeon had been left to get wasted in peace. Instead he’s interrupted by some fucker with a smile decidedly too cheerful given the current situation. Now. Normally Silas would be completely content to ignore the idiocy coming out of some stranger’s mouth in lieu of drinking himself to death, but when the guy starts to insult his alcohol, the shit hits the fan. Silas’ glare intensifies into something that would kill a lesser man and he levels it straight at the fucker who decided it would be a good idea to sit down and talk to the only person in the place who looks like he honestly might go postal on the entire bar and commit mass murder.

“It’s goddamn bourbon you fucker. Watch your fucking mouth before I knock out your goddamn teeth.” Is snarled in the idiot’s direction before Silas takes another swig of his bourbon. “Better yet, fuck off. I’m not the socializing type.” Comes the growled addendum, and it’s true enough. Even before he had never been one to sit around and chat with other people unless it was someone he knows well. Even then it’s hard to get much out of Silas, even harder to make him smile.

He hopes that the guy sitting next to him will take a fucking hint and leave Silas alone to drown his misery in copious amounts of alcohol, but he doubts that’s going to happen with the week he’s been having. So, instead of just hoping the damned fool will leave him alone, Silas turns his head to look at him, green brown eyes sizing the idiot up for a second. And goddamn the fucker is ridiculously good looking…but just because Silas can recognize and appreciate the man’s beauty does not mean he’s going to stand for any of his shit.

“What the fuck are you doing talking to me? If there’s so much fucking fun out there, have at it.” He narrows his eyes with a growl and returns to nursing his drink, muttering softly once he turns back. “I can promise you I won’t be any fucking fun.” The words are softer, spoken with the bitterness that only a broken man can manage.

And with that, he’s fucking done with the little shit. He sees no reason the man will bother him further. After all, what’s one, grumpy doctor with social issues when there’s a bar full of women to hit on?

[Zander Burke]

Zander began to feel a bit cocky, as it was very obvious he struck some sort of loose cord. As Silas' glare intensified so did the mischievous smirk on his face. But his comment wasn't entirely to try and piss off Silas... it was actually the honest truth. He wasn't much of a liquor drinker since it caused him to black out... and it somehow filled him with an odd rage that unfortunately filtered through his furry half. Lets just say the last time he drank anything other than beer (copious amounts), Zander was hospitalized for a night with a few assault charges. He would have been in jail if his arm hadn't of been broken. That was a few years ago and all charges had been... well paid for -- and lessons learned. Since then he had not touched a drop of anything but beer, and he found he liked the taste a bit better.

So with Silas' defending retort, it only goaded with werewolf on.

"Oohh hoh sooorr-e snarls. I honestly don't give a flying fuck what it is, it smells disgusting," he replied with a goading smile, "Probably tastes as equally shitty."

Zander's beer arrived and he wasted no time diving into it, he was enjoying the fact that all his give-a-fucks were melting away with his soberness. The more he drank the less he cared... so when Silas continued to growl and glare, he would soon see how many fucks Zander gave.

Which was none.

When he had drank a few gulps, odd eyes were focused back on Silas. "And i'm talking to you, dick face, because here you are all by your fucking lonesome looking all sorry for yourself." he retorted taking another drink. There wasn't anything he hated more than seeing someone drown himself in whatever. Shit doesn't just go away, you gotta work at it, if you don't well then you end up like this sorry fuck drinking 'away' his problems and money.

"That and you and your sour ass face makes an easy target, for a dick like me." If Zander wasn't hit yet he would begin to stand (a tad wobbly). "Now come on fucker, off your lazy ass." he stated and went to grab the other man's arm to lift him up. The beer was certainly doing its job, as Zander knew better than to touch someone as sour looking as Silas.

[Zephyr]

The mouthy son of a bitch is rapidly getting on Silas’ nerves. His hand tightens around his glass each second the fucker keeps talking, and he’s trying really goddamn hard not to slam his fist into the motherfucker’s face. He’s not actually making an attempt to curb how many times he gets into bar fights…if anything, he’s getting into more now than ever before, but he isn’t sure he has it in him to get kicked out of another bar, especially the most convenient one in the city for the doctor.

Of course the bitch just has to say something to well and truly tick Silas off, and the wolf looks at him with the slow smolder of anger burning away in his eyes. How fucking dare he. He has no fucking idea who Silas is or what he’s gone through. How dare he judge Silas for feeling sorry for himself. If he knew half of the shit Silas has had to go through, he’d see that Silas has every fucking right to feel sorry for himself.

Then he freezes, because it sounds so stupid in his head. Getting so worked up over one person that he literally drinks his fucking life away. The doctor is hovering on the edge of revelation, and what a shitty one it is. Nate left because he was too clingy; too much, too fast, too invested in something that was always supposed to be casual…and Matthias – and this might be Silas’ biggest regret – he pushed Matthias away by being so broken up about Nate. Now he has a fucking mess on his hands of bridges he’d burned and he isn’t sure if he can ever fucking fix them. Matthias in particular…he isn’t sure where to start.

More drinking seems like a good start.

He glowers at the other werewolf, because he’d finally go the scent of the other man on the air, lip crinkling in a silent snarl at his words. “Don’t you dare fucking tell me how to be. If I want to drink myself to death, it’s no one else’s fucking business…least of all yours. Now fuck off and leave me the hell alone…I’m not going to tell you a third time.” He isn’t sure why he’s given the fucker so many chances in the first place. Silas is rarely so accommodating.

Must me the alcohol.

Which he goes back to, and he immediately wishes that he hadn’t given the guy another chance because he promptly gets up and grabs Silas’ fucking arm. The doctor tenses under the under the other man’s grip, eyes going to start uncomprehendingly at the guy’s hand for a moment before he starts to tremble with built up rage. His left eye starts to twitch in his anger and his face goes through countless expressions all in rapid succession, and all probably equally comical from a completely unbiased point of view. It all explodes in spectacular fashion then, when Silas rips his arm out of the other man’s grip – also spilling his bourbon all over his suit – hopefully not knocking him over in the process and howling his words in a vicious snarl. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Touch. Me. YOU GODDAMN BASTARD.” And if he hadn’t knocked him over before, Silas tries to now when he levels a punch right at the fucker’s face, eyes wild and beyond crazy.

[Zander Burke]

Not his business no, but Zander was now involved whether the other sorry ass wolf wanted him to be or not. It was almost immediately after Zander tries to lift the other one up, that everything sort of exploded. He knew the moment his hand grabbed the other's arm where everything would lead. But in a way this is what Zander wanted, instead of bitching at Zander to leave him the fuck alone, he was actually doing something about it. His one track mind of trying to get Silas on his feet only to see the numourous range of emotions that flipped by at once until it settled on one. It was actually pretty amusing, and Zander had opened his mouth to comment on it when Silas suddenly ripped his arm away.

This action placed Zander slightly off balance and his own pint of beer spilling forward (thankfully not on his self) probably all over the front of Silas and the floor. In that second he regained his balance his brows furrow for a moment as he noticed most of ... all his beer was now out of its containor. "Shit... look at wh-"

He found he was immediately cut off when Silas pretty much screamed at him. Eyes would immediately widen when the last thing he sees is Silas' fist colliding with his face. This definitely sent the slightly shorter wolf sailing backwards into the table behind him. There were gasps from the crowd of people behind him, with a few cheers from the guys. Zander wiped the back of his hand over his nose to find it was bleeding. A wicked smirk crawls to his face as he finally realizes that he and Silas are one in the same (in a sense). A human would not have been able to hit as hard as Silas had... well unless he was built like a fucking tank.

"Thats right dick head, if you want something done get the fuck up and do it!" he annouced dropping his glass stein to the floor and getting back on his feet. No Zander wasn't going to back down, not with the blood rushing and adrenaline kicking in. The hit to the face had done its job, adding to the already alcohol addled mind. Zander suddenly rushed forward into Silas undercutting his arm so when he collided with Silas his fist would connect right in his gut. If that hit was successful and Silas doubled over he would pull his other fist back aiming for his face.

If he missed entirely and ended up hitting the table behind Silas he would whip around and goad the other werewolf on, motioning with both hands.

"Come on, asshole hit me!"

[Zephyr]

It wasn’t like he’d expected to hit the guy so hard. Punching is just a kneejerk reaction for anytime someone touches him. He might have gotten slightly better and not randomly throwing punches at anyone who touches him, but this idiot had already been so goddamn annoying and especially for Silas, bottling shit up is never a good idea. It comes out in spectacular fashion, almost like a volcano of fucking anger.

He’s left staring at where the other man landed against the table, chest heaving, eyes narrowed but no less crazy then they’d looked before. He’s twitching with the anger that he hasn’t let out yet, and his fists are tight and white-knuckled at his sides. For once, he isn’t interested in following up on the punch. Everyfuckingone in the bar is staring at him, and he hadn’t left the hospital with the intention of gathering a crowd.

In fact, for once, the thought of everyone staring at him makes him distinctly uncomfortable.

He’s about to go back to pay for his drinks and leave when the guy is shouting at him and standing up. The wolf rises hot and defensive in his chest, and Silas finds himself glued to the spot, stuck between wanting to leave now and the wolf’s defensive refusal to turn his back on the other wolf. In the end, it’s probably a good idea that he hadn’t turned around, because the other wolf rushes at him in a reckless flurry. Despite knowing that something like this could happen, he isn’t prepared for it. This wolf didn’t exactly strike him as the violent type; he seemed all talk.

Silas is proven wrong when the fucker collides with him, fist burying itself in his gut. It achieves Zander’s desired result, and Silas steps back, sputtering, hands coming up to hold his stomach. He isn’t even aware of the other man’s fist until it smashes into his face and Silas stumbles backwards into the bar, blood pooling on his chin from his split lip and an insane look in his green-brown eyes.

He pauses for a moment, on the precipice of unease before he explodes all together and rushes headlong at the other man with a howl. At the last second, as he approaches Zander, he ducks his head down, arms coming out to wrap themselves around the guy’s torso as he head-butts him, but keeps moving, intent on hauling him all the way to the nearest wall, or floor, should the tables and chairs prove a problem. It’s all the same to Silas if he ends up against the wall with Zander or on the floor.

Either way, he’ll pull back his fist to slam it into the other man’s face again, snarling obscenities the entire time.

[Zander Burke]

There were no other follow-up punches after the last punch to the face. He felt there didn't need to be one seeing as his attacks hit, but in reality Zander was just underestimating the other wolf. He figured since Silas was hitting the "bourbon" (or whatever-thefuck-it is) pretty hard he figured he would be out. Also the guy already looked fucking pathetic, and Zander did his job getting him up and distracting him from whatever he was thinking about. Sure Zander sort of meant to pick the fight in a way... but he didn't mean to pry. They prying was mainly the alcohol trashing his already very small verbal filter. Whatever was happening with this man was either very deep, or he was a sorry sack of shit to begin with. Either way, even through his spinning head, he felt sorry for the bastard.

After the punch Zander rolled his shoulder back and was about to walk away, grab his stein and ask for another (if they would let him). It was a very simple one track mind at the moment, punch this guy... refill beer. Zander made a move to turn around, holding his head to hopefully clear the spins. Zander has been hit by many humans, but this (surprisingly) as been his first werewolf hit -- and oh my fuck it hurt. If he was hunched over the toilet by the end of the night due to a mild concussion, he will hunt this bastard down... maybe. There was a sudden gasp from one of their new audience, and not a second later came the howl from Silas. Zander turned around just in time to have the fucker headbutt tackle him.

The managed to almost miss a table, the only part of Zander to have hit the table was his already spinning head. If he wasn't a werewolf, this could have been much worse. The both slammed into the floor, obviously Zander served as a cushion to Silas' impact, Zander opened his eyes to only have another fist slammed into his face, this time he felt his nose break. "Fuuuuck!" he yelped bringing his hands up to signal to the werewolf to stop whilst he finds the words too.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa... I give!" he said suddenly through the pain searing through his head, in case Silas tried for another hit. Zander is a man who knew when he was fucked, and right now there was nothing he could do to push the larger man off him. His wolf, a semi dominant creature, knew when he was defeated as well so there was no fight from him. The adrenaline was dying down, leaving Zander to feel all his head and face hits... but he still kept his guard up in case Silas tried for another hit. Although it was sort of hard to focus seeing as his vision threatened to blur every three seconds, not to mention the blood from his nose was dripping back in to his throat causing the man to splutter and cough a bit.

"You... hit hard. Holy shit." he would manage to say.

[Zephyr]

Of fucking course Silas would end up on the floor, straddling the fucker’s chest, throwing punches at his face like there’s no tomorrow. Well…trying to. He’s only able to get in one punch in before the other man gives up. Silas feels the satisfying crunch of bones under skin, and he doesn’t want to stop now that he’s broken the guy’s nose. He freezes though, hand poised in midair, breathing heavily as the wolf rises up in him. The other wolf has submitted to him…well and truly. There is no need to keep beating on him, and no matter how much the man wants to keep punching him, the wolf grows quiet, smugly satisfied with the submission it’s being shown.

Silas is still angry, but the satisfaction of the wolf saps most of the rage out of him. Still breathing hard, he moves his hand, burying his fingers into the fabric of the guy’s shirt, staring at him in breathless anger while he gathers his composure.

It’s stupid, the guy’s comment about Silas’ hitting, but he can’t help himself. The ridiculousness of the situation and the inappropriateness of the man’s comment coming right after Silas has beat the shit out of him hasn’t been lost on the doctor and he cracks one of his rare smiles. The laugh that bubbles up in him is a mixture of the alcohol still in his system and the adrenaline coursing through his veins culminating into a giddiness that goes to his head.

He cuts off the strange laugh then, realizes that they’re in an awkward position before he gets to his feet, hauling Zander roughly to his feet by the fabric of his shirt. Without another word he makes his way over to the bar, only to be struck by how much of a scene the two of them have just made. Everyone is staring at them, and the bartender looks like he’s about to tell them to clear out. The surgeon looks back at the other man and realizes that the guy’s face is a mess, bloodied and broken. Silas seems to have fared better with only a split lip, but they are in no shape to be seen in public.

Silas blinks at Zander, unsure of where to go from here until the doctor in him rises and he gives a little growl, walking past Zander towards the exit. “C’mon.” The wolf mutters as he passes Zander, giving him no other choice but to comply. “I’ll fix you.” He hasn’t actually told the other guy that he is a doctor yet, but the words make his profession pretty obvious, and if it isn’t obvious, the wolf doesn’t stop to complain. He just walks outside, rolls his shoulders and ignores the looks he’s getting.

“Want me to take you to the hospital or my apartment? I’d really rather not have to tell my coworkers that I broke your goddamn nose in a fit of rage.” It isn’t like his coworkers would honestly expect anything less out of Silas…he just likes to pretend that people expect better from him.