Table-jacker

[Ryan Avery]

Ryan had not caught up with Chad the morning after he picked up Hannah in an alley and brought her home like a stray cat. He couldn't not say he was not a bit amused by her predicament. It was just sex, not a contract signed in blood. If there was one thing Hannah could use it was a little badness. She had it in her. Most people did, if they were honest with themselves. She just kept it on a leash. A very short and very tight leash.

Jarek was a good guy. Ryan had no quarrels with him. He was off working for the summer. Who knew what he'd be doing when he came into port at night. Some things are just better to keep to yourselves. It was the knowing that caused all the problems between people. Why were secrets always bad? It's the truth that sets everything tumbling over. However,  Ryan thought Hannah could have done a little better than the American. He was rather a lump of a guy, dorky looking, the kind he and Chad would likely have made sport of at Whispers when they were students. Why he'd found no bit of ass to chase in town other than an intoverted shopkeeper with a kid and a boyfriend was curious.

Getting in the sack with him for a spell would likely be safer than hooking up with a local. Stuart and his sister wanted to get back to their own world. Hannah could sow a few oats and then get back to the life that made her feel safe with Jarek and her kid.

Ryan had had Mortimer drop him at the edge of the city so he could walk. The air felt fresh and summer-cool on his bare arms. He was in jeans and a plain black tee and wore his good black Italian boots. He wasn't hemmed in by Cat's Claw's sense of fashion, or lack thereof. Many of the town's young people bucked it when they could, or when they could afford the more fashionable clothes from the stores in Tangled Paths.

Pushing into the busy pub, Ryan took in the sea of faces. Pretty smiles floated by him, appraising gazes, narrowed eyes. The usual. Ryan ordered a whiskey at the bar because a new and very hot looking barmaid was helping out there tonight. They exchanged a little flirtatious banter before Ryan made his way through the Monday night crowd to his table.

It was actually his and Chad's table.  It was actually the table and the five chairs near by it. The chairs were totally supurfluous and would never fit around the small two person table. They were there to put their feet on or their jackets or to tuck a girl in a little closer. The table was in the northwest corner of the pub. It provided the best view of people coming in and out of the pub. It was the easiest place to check out the new talent as it walked through. It had been "their" table for the last six years or so.  No one ever took it after five in the evening. Until now.

The American, of course.

Ryan scowled a little as he moved toward his pub base. "This is my table. You need to sit someplace else." Ryan delivered the info without an introduction of any sort. He gestured with his chin to a place by the hearth that everyone liked. The hearth was empty, but decorated and the girls seem to always huddle about there. "That table there just opened. Take that."

Ryan stood holding his whiskey, his eyes on the American in front of him who'd table-jacked him. A few locals who knew full well it was Ryan's table, cast curious looks in their direction.

[Stuart LaRoche]

For the second night in a row, Stuart was in town. He had finished the paperwork for his new job late this afternoon and dropped it off at the An Taoisigh. It had been grueling. He kept having to refer to the documents that Ryan Avery had drawn up for him so he could keep his story straight. Muggles from Broken Wand, related to the Rolland/Devlin clan on his mother's side, here in Cat's Claw to look up old relatives, blah blah blah. He hated lying about this kind of thing, and what made it worse was that his wife was now just some random relative. Nothing special.

Stuart had gotten dressed, not in his best shirt (which he had worn to see Hannah last night), but in a serviceable white short-sleeved button down with blue pinstripes and a pair of jeans. He had been out trying to set the garden to rights earlier today and had just pulled on his work boots as he left the house. He told Holly he would be home for dinner. Patrick had driven him to the An Taoisigh and Holly had given him a bit of money to catch a cab home.

He was wrong about being home for dinner, however. He had to undergo an additional interview at the An Taoisigh. They went over his paperwork with a fine-tooth comb, pulling out the tiniest details to scrutinize. Stuart had to sit there with them to make corrections and explanations. He was sweating it out, worried that he would be detained and hauled off to prison, but after a few hours of waiting and explaining he was told that he could leave.

It had been torturous and Stuart, already late for dinner, decided to stop in Rory Fallon's for a beer to relax. He entered the pub, walked up to the bar and ordered a lager. After paying for his drink, he looked around. There was a table off to the side that was empty, and he decided to sit there for a bit and people watch as he unwound. He made his way over and sat, noticing that the people nearby were looking at him. Yes, yes, he thought. Y'all get a good eyeful of the American. Maybe they were expecting a show.

He took a long sip from his lager, set it down on the table and sighed as he rubbed the back of his head. He had been going nonstop since Friday night, the day the storm hit. He had a garden to rebuild, animals to care for, and repairs to do around the house. He was also learning to ride and had to fill out the paperwork for his new job. But all of that paled in comparison to what he had been through with Hannah.

The things he had said to her kept ringing in his head. Stuart had been inappropriately harsh, to the point where he made her run off into the night. What was wrong with him? He started off admiring her and wanting to help her out... at what point had he lost his focus and started acting like a dog looking for a female in heat? He had gone from noble and honorable to carnal and lecherous in two seconds. All it took was for her to touch him and he lost all control. He needed to pull himself together. His relationship with Hannah was as good as finished after what he said to her last night, but if he was going to find any woman he couldn't lose control like he had with her.

Stuart had been ruminating and sipping his beer. He was slightly slouched down in his chair, his one leg stretched out in front of him, the other leg bent. He suddenly noticed that someone had stopped in front of him and he looked up. It was Ryan Avery. Stuart took in the man's clothes, noting the fancy boots. He hadn't seen Avery since he left his house after procuring his immigration documents. If Stuart remembered right the man was a bit of an ass, and right on cue Avery displayed the traits that gave him that reputation. He was telling Stuart that this was his table and he had to move. Stuart wasn't going to rise to the bait. He had been in this situation before and he was no longer a kid being picked on by bullies. He could stand his own ground.

Stuart looked down at his beer and put his feet up on one of the chairs. "Yes, that table did just open," he said in a low voice. "I'm sure you'll love it over there."

[Ryan Avery]

Ryan figured the many pub goers eyes were on this scene. What was before them was an American table-jacker. The worst of the worst. Even if many people disliked Ryan in this town, the American would find little support from them should push come to shove. And Ryan felt that is just where it was headed.

The American had refused and Ryan kept a non-wavering gaze on him as Stuart lifted a leg and put it on one of his chairs. Ryan was a scrapper. He liked fighting more than he enjoyed many things. With an attitude as large as Ryan's, scrapping came with the territory.  He and Chad had had enough brawls in Fallon's that people simply scraped their tables out of their way until it was over. Occasionally they took it too far and had the bouncer toss them out, but generally bartender let it pass.

Not having had a good brawl in a long time, the American was beginning to take the shape of a target. Ryan was sizing him up a little.  He said nothing for a few long moments, took a sip of his whiskey and turned to put on the table to his left where two women and a man were sitting.

 "You know, American, there any number of reasons why you should get your ass off that chair." Ryan's voice wasn't threatening. It held a slight hint of amusement. Ryan liked when people surprised him.  He put a foot near the front leg of the chair where Stuart had propped his leg. In one quick little jerk, he tugged it forward. "So why don't you give me a reason why you should keep it planted there."

[Stuart LaRoche]

With one quick motion Ryan had tugged the chair out from under Stuart's feet. They fell with a thud to the floor, knocking bits off dirt off of his work boots. Stuart should have expected that; it was a predictable move. He didn't say anything, didn't even look up at Avery. Instead, he sat up a little straighter and crossed one leg over the other, resting his left ankle on his right knee, and took another pull from his beer. If this was going the way he thought it was going to go, he wasn't going to have the chance to finish this beer.

Still neither saying a word nor getting up, Stuart quickly thought this through. This had happened to him a million times before by bigger guys than Ryan Avery. He had learned over the years that standing his ground and taking a few hits was the only way to deal with bullies and hold on to your self-respect, and he had learned to throw a good punch. Philippe had taught him that as well. Philippe had a better physique than Stuart but Stuart had the brawn to back it up, and the few times they had actually gotten into scraps were pretty much of a draw before they had to be separated. He was relatively sure he could at least get in a few good hits if Avery started swinging; maybe he would even get the chance to break this pretty boy's nose.

It was clear to Stuart that he was in the right. He had been here first. This Avery character wanted to throw his weight around and make himself look better to the people around them by trying to make Stuart get up. Anyone could see that. Avery could only come out of this looking worse, especially if Stuart didn't lose his temper and swing first.

Really, though, he had no argument with Avery. This was the man who had gone out of his way and put himself on the line to procure documents that would allow him and Zippy to stay in Cat's Claw. There was no reason for him to do that. He owed neither of them a thing, except that Zippy was his employee, but even that wasn't such a big deal. Employers didn't usually go so far out of their way for their employees. Also, it was a safe assumption that Avery wasn't interested in his sister. Well, maybe he was... but she wouldn't be interested in him, so that didn't even factor into this. The little bit that Stuart knew about Avery told him that he wasn't such a bad sort, but he would be damned if he was going to get up from this table. If Ryan Avery wanted to punch him, he was going to have to do it while Stuart was sitting down.

As he was processing all of this, Avery started talking. Stuart eyed him as he did so, sizing him up, trying to gauge exactly how far this man was going to go in order to roust Stuart from his favorite spot. Jesus, is your diaper rash bothering you? he thought, but instead he waited a moment before speaking. "I can give you a great reason. I was here first, and I don't see a reserved sign on this table. How's that?"

[Ryan Avery]

Ryan stifled a little laugh when Stuart refused to stand. He wouldn't fight unless Ryan pushed a little more, and Ryan wasn't sure he wanted to just yet. Brawls were always so much better in the evening after he'd had his two drinks and been able to relax a bit and check out the girls. And it was rare for Ryan to ever throw the first punch. He preferred to let people come swinging at him, it meant he'd already had them at a disadvantage; anger could make you a sloppy fighter if that's where you began it.  In a fight, anger had to work up in you one punch at a time. Ryan didn't win every fight, but he one enough that many men would not want to go toe to toe with him unless it was for something more than his big mouth.

Reaching for his drink next to him, he took a sip, again not responding immediately. He was waiting to see if this muggle followed his words with a launched attack off the chair. He didn't. He didn't look like he was going anywhere. "Well, that's true," Ryan offered in a contemplative voice.  It's also true that your a redcap American who chases women that aren't available. Seems you have a lot of bad habits."

He paused and took another sip of his drink. "So, I'll let you stay for awhile, because I'd like to hear some of those stories about how you balled the apothecary girl straight from the horse's mouth." Some of the people at the nearby tables snickered. Ryan walked to his chair and sat down at the table next to Stuart's, facing him, elbows on the table, drink in his hand. "Better details that way. Do tell. Was she worth the ride? Because many people here are calling her a brasser* and a few might even be interested in standing in that line if it's sounding good." He smirked and waited.

*woman of ill repute, who charges but a brass coin for her services

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart had been expecting a swing at his head or more kicking of chairs. It seemed to be the way this confrontation between himself and Ryan Avery was heading. What he did not expect, however, was for the other man to pick up his drink and plop himself down in a chair opposite from where he sat. Nor did he expect Avery to bring up the rumors that had been circulating about Stuart and Hannah.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. From what he could gather nearly everyone had been talking about it. He had also guessed that Hannah might be staying at the Avery estate after what Chad had told him last night. He was about to take a drink when Avery said that Stuart chased women who weren't available and he put his glass down with a thud. With narrowed eyes and a tight chest he stared at the man, wondering where he was going to go with this.

And go with it he did. Stuart gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw, never removing his eyes from Avery as he went on about how he heard that Stuart was balling the apothecary girl, wanting to know if it was worth the ride. Stuart had no idea what a brasser was, but he gathered it wasn't anything particularly complimentary. He wanted to punch this twit right in the face. He felt the anger quickly build inside of him and he saw red, but rather than taking a swing at Avery Stuart kept it inside, cold and hard, until the fire began to die.

He sat there silently, staring at Avery's smug face, until he reached the point where he could speak without flying into a rage. "Would you, now?" he asked in response to Avery's wanting to know more about the gossip. He knew Avery didn't care, that he had only brought it up to needle Stuart. He wasn't going to fall into the trap. "Maybe you could tell me what the latest is. Last I heard I was getting laid twice a day and we were bringing in trained monkeys." He lifted his glass and took a sip as he eyed the other man over the rim. He looked at his beer as he set the glass on the table. Nearly empty, and he wanted another. There was no way he was going to move now, though. "It's amazing the stories you Irish dimwits come up with to pass the time."

[Ryan Avery]

Ryan’s eyes were absolutely lit with amusement as Stuart LaRoche spoke in his girly accent (it was nice on his sister, on him it made him sound like a sissy). Ryan said nothing and his smile was only vaguely visible.  Stuart could have easily dove across the table at him. Chad had done it any number of times. The table showed the sign of the wear and tear along its edges from being toppled over so many times. Stuart didn’t. He sat, eyes locked on Ryan’s with the grim look of someone who is working hard to keep his temper in check.

Ryan looked back and the silence hung between them for a few long moments.

There were things about Stuart that Ryan was very curious about, fight or not. Chad had already filled him in that the guy didn’t know squat about the letter. It was some fisherman. Ryan was not entertaining thoughts about his revenge plans this evening. He would not allow his mind to where he didn’t want it. Tonight it was out for a bit of amusement and Stuart seemed like he might provide the opening act for the night.

There was something about the guy sitting there with his eyeglasses reflecting the flickering bar lights, hunkered down at Ryan’s table with an nearly empty glass that he just needed to keep around a bit longer. If they needed to scrap it out later, they’d be more relaxed after a couple drinks. It always seem to make the punches land better.

Ryan finally let out a laugh as Stuart offered up his monkeys to the mix. “Only an American would need to bring monkeys in.”

A pretty waitress moved near to clear Stuart’s glass. Ryan signaled for her to bring them both a second round, then turned back to Stuart. The crowd had lost interest in the scene at this point and went back to their own conversations.

Ryan relaxed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s pretty well-known around these parts that American’s have short cocks. Genetics. Irish lads can hardly find comfortable pants to keep ours where they need to be. Why do you think we used to favor kilts as our daily wear? Cock room." He wasn't looking directly at Stuart, he eyed a group of attractive young woman who made their way into the pub. "I suppose the monkeys might work as a distraction for you. But you know, you could always just work on perfecting your aussie kiss*, then the girls might hardly notice what's lacking, or so I've heard.” Ryan took a small glance at Stuart and smirked, then he jutted his chin toward the girls as they sat at a table over near the hearth. “You need a naughty Irish girl to teach you the ropes.”

*Kiss in the nether regions/ kiss "down under"

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart was beginning to realize that Avery wasn't going to start throwing punches. Yet. He began to relax somewhat but was still guarded. Who knew what this man was going to do. He didn't seem like the kind of person who would be above sucker punching a guy.

As the two men continued to size each other up, Stuart wondered if he should ask Avery if Hannah was staying at his estate. He wanted to know, but another part of him really didn't. Rather than put himself in the vulnerable position of asking this man about her, he decided to owl her himself. He felt sure she would answer him and let him know where she was.

Stuart let the comment about monkeys pass. This Avery was an expert at needling people. The man couldn't open his mouth without Stuart wanting to land a punch. The thing that held him back, though, was that for all his irritating words and mannerisms, Avery delivered these barbs with an air of amusement, almost good-natured ribbing. Stuart got the feeling that this locker room humor was another way of seeing what Stuart was made of, and he felt that if he kept his temper and his head he would be able to respond in kind. As much as he clammed up around women or people in authority, he could usually hold his own in situations like this.

The waitress took his empty glass. Stuart, low on cash as he was, had just enough for one more beer and he nodded at her as Avery signaled for another round. Being married, it had been a while since he had gone out drinking with the guys. Ainne's presence had put an end to all of that and he had been glad to give it up, but he had to admit that it felt nice to be able to toss a few back without women around and talk a little trash again.

Stuart wanted to laugh when Avery started talking about Americans' cocks. He looked around in amusement, wondering if anyone else was overhearing this guy who wanted to know how big his cock was. No one seemed to be paying attention -- not even Avery himself. He was busy was eyeing up a group of girls who had just walked in. Stuart followed the same group of girls with his eyes. "Well," he drawled, "we Americans might have short cocks but we've got the biggest balls you'll ever see."

The waitress had returned with the drinks and Stuart hoped she didn't hear his last comment. He took his lager and leaned back in his chair as he tried to figure out what the hell an "aussie kiss" was. Avery was full of these weird phrases, which Stuart supposed to be an Irish thing. He had to think about it for a minute, following the logical chain from "aussie" to "down under" and then... oh. Yeah. That. He felt he could hold his own in that area, naughty Irish girls notwithstanding. "Oh, I've got a naughty Irish girl already," he said, lifting his glass. "They've been flocking to me. I think they're starved for a man who knows how to get the job done." He mockingly smiled at Avery over the rim of his glass. "That must be why you're here alone tonight."

[Ryan Avery]

Ryan was settling into his table and allowing the current company to remain.  The guy was holding his own and not pushing his glasses up and putting up his fists up like fecking hardchaw. Ryan loved a good pub fight, but it had to be at the right time. It had to build up a bit first, before the fists started to fly. And it was never any good if you were fighting someone who you knew you could just clobber. The risk of it all was what got Ryan's adrenaline going.  Stuart didn't look like a total push over. He was short compared to Ryan, and stout but Ryan had seen nerdy looking guys like him let loose some times with surprising results.

They were both sitting and drinking their newly bought drinks and Stuart seemed to be testing the waters a little. It was a good sign. He wasn't afraid of Ryan and not irked enough to just finally get up and walk away. He was sitting there and talking about his big balls and Ryan turned and gave him a wide smile of amusement. "Is that so, American? Well, you see, that must be your problem. Those big balls are dwarfing your American cocks."  Ryan laughed and took a sip of his whiskey,his eye on one attractive brown haired girl who'd looked over once or twice and then tucked in close to her friends and whispered.

He turned back to Stuart when he said he had an Irish girl of his own. "Hannah's not the girl for you, redcap." Stuart had never said her name, but having talked to Hannah, he knew this redcap had his sights set on her.  Ryan had his eyes on Stuart. He wasn't challenging him or even mocking him. He was just laying it out there on the table for him.

[Stuart LaRoche]

Up until now everything had been going fairly well for Stuart. Avery was pushing him and he had come close to losing his temper, but so far it seemed to be nothing he couldn't handle. Avery was being a dick, certainly, and Stuart had dealt with guys like him before. It wasn't something he went out of his way to do, but he had no problem with talking trash. He was relatively open-minded and intelligent and had a decent sense of humor to toss back any barbs that came his way. No punches had been thrown, no take-downs had happened. Everything was going fine.

Until now.

Stuart had been drinking his lager and was nearly half-way finished. He let the comment about American cocks sail by as he wondered why Avery loved talking about other men's cocks so much. He had grinned in amusement as he looked down at the table. This guy was too much. Then Avery said something, and the grin slid off of Stuart's face.

"Hannah's not the girl for you, redcap."

Stuart looked up at him sharply. Obviously Avery knew about the rumors, he had even made reference to Stuart balling the apothecary girl. He had gone too far when he said Hannah's name. Somehow in Stuart's mind, it made the entire situation suddenly serious. His jaw tightened as he stared Avery down. He was angry that he had brought up her name, angry that this rich twit was presuming to know what was going on in his life and in Hannah's. Of course he would say that Hannah wasn't the girl for him, he had her at his estate for God knew what purpose. He had probably sought Stuart out just to tell him to leave her alone. For the second time that night, he had to work to control his temper. God, he just wanted to break this asshole's nose. He tried not to think about how satisfying it would be to feel it crack under his fist.

"I never said she was," Stuart finally managed, never taking his eyes from the man across from him. "You listen to too much gossip."

[Ryan Avery]

The ease at Ryan's table suddenly disappeared when Hannah entered the conversation. Ryan saw the subtle change in Stuart's posture and how his face muscles tightened. Ryan wouldn't betray Hannah to Stuart. Ryan was unusually loyal to those he considered true friends. Those were far and few between, but Hannah had been one for many years now.

"What I know, American, is more times than not there is a little bit of truth hiding in the gossip, even if the only truth is you walked into her store more than once." He shrugged a little. "So if Hannah is of no concern to you, then I suppose you don't need to know why she was taken to a hospital in Tangled Paths last night. I actually thought you knew her pretty well. I must have been mistaken."  Ryan was totally lying about Hannah at the hospital. He liked lying, and Stuart had given him a reason.

Ryan suddenly slapped a hand on the bar table. "You know what, Stuart," Ryan used his name for the fist time. "Let's head over to the Dark Door Cantina.  I can bet any money you have never been there. And if there has ever been a guy that needed the Dark door, you are the guy. The nights on me," Ryan said standing to leave. If the American didn't want to go, he could sit at the table alone all night for all he cared. He glanced at Stuart and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

[Stuart LaRoche]

Stuart could not keep the alarm from showing on his face as he looked at Avery. He glanced away, his stunned look replaced by bewilderment. Why would Hannah need to go to the hospital? What had she done to herself? His first thought was that she had tried to hurt herself, but then it dawned on him that she must have had a nervous breakdown. God, and I pushed her to that, he thought in despair. He wondered if he should question Avery further about why she had gone and how he could get to Tangled Paths to see her and decided against it. This guy was likely to give him the wrong information, just to be a dick. Stuart decided to employ his own means to find out why she had to be hospitalized.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to see what else he could find out from Avery about her. Had she run all the way to the man's estate? Had someone found her somewhere and brought her to him? Did she have her breakdown there at the estate or later? Maybe Avery was privvy to the reasons of why she had a breakdown. Was it because of the things Stuart had said to her? Had she confided in Avery at all? All of this ran through Stuart's head like a freight train in the night and he realized that he had been holding his breath. He breathed out through his nose, trying to let go of his fear.

He jumped, though, when Avery slapped the table, at first thinking that the next thing to come would be a fist in the face. Stuart quickly looked up at the other man as he started talking about going to a place called the Dark Door Cantina. He vaguely remembered Nicky talking about the place, how she had been looking for work and said that the strip club was always hiring. Apparently Avery was offering a night out at the place; he was probably a regular there. Stuart considered, in two minds as to whether or not he should go. On one hand, he had no interest in getting to know Ryan Avery any further, nor was Stuart the kind of guy who enjoyed going to strip clubs. On the other hand, Avery might get loaded and tell him more about Hannah and why she had to be hospitalized. If Stuart could just keep his head and not get drunk, he might be able to get more information from the man. What the hell, it was free. Stuart wouldn't have to pay for a thing.

Stuart looked away and shrugged as he drained the remainder of his beer. "Sure, why not," he said unenthusiastically. "I've never been there before."