A milling over drinks
I really hate being hit. Have I mentioned this before dear readers? The feeling of fist against jaw. Sinewy conflict. None of this I find enjoyable.
But perhaps I should explain. It, shudder to think, wasn’t any fault of my own. Afterall, that brigand was making advances on Maureen, who while hardened by her time at the Griffin, was not ready for the behavior of such a degenerate lout. Now, some will that that I, Sean Fagan, started the unseemly row. However, after a few rounds of ale, gentleman will be liable to say anything. This brigand had been casting untoward eyes upon Maureen all evening and I could not let that stand. I kindly asked the gentleman to stop pestering Maureen, which resulted in him making several unflattering comments about my profession and followed with several remarks as to his plans for Maureen.
I, being an honorable man, and a gentleman by nature, gave him a rap upon the nose. The great beast then set upon me with the aid of at least three of his companions, all holding very articles of furniture. Thankfully, several law abiding citizens managed to pull the brutes off me before any permanent harm could be done. Needless to say dear readers, I was a sight. Those of a more delicate constitution might fall prey to an episode if they had to look upon my grim visage, coveredin my own humors.
I fully intended to send the ruffians on their way with a few more sharp clouts, but my noble frame was unable to continue after such an assault. I attempted to explain my situation to the local constabulary, who had arrived in record time to seize the culprits responsible for the ruckus. Through some misunderstanding, they placed the blame squarely upon my own burly shoulders and threatened to make my life exceedingly difficult for the foreseeable future.
Praise be that two gentlemen who had the misfortune of watching the conflict had taken a shine to my prowess in the art of pugilism and after a quick exchange of words (and I might add quite a few shillings) I was released into their protection. The larger of the two men suggested that I stay at his residence for the evening as he had a proposition that would balm the wounds of the evening. With great trepidation, and a last look at Maureen, I flung myself into the man’s coach, and set off into the bleak London night.