As he was about to leave, Roy felt her fingers around his wrist like an iron vice. She was deceptively strong, and he had to admit that he was grateful when she loosened her grip.
'Whoever it is, be careful'.
The words rang in his ears rather ominously, an effective portent for possible dangers to come. As the bartender let him go, he nodded at her dismissal before leaving. Deciding that it was safer to leave via another route, he passed the bandstand and left through a backstage door leading to an alley. He pulled up the collar of his overcoat as an extra barrier to the cold...for all the good it did. He reached into his pocket for his packet of cigarettes and a lighter and attempted to light it. After he struck the wheel for the third or fourth time, he shook it the lighter around in an effort to utilize any lighter fluid he could...before something impacted at the back of his head. It seemed that the bottle shattered only as the grimy cement rose up rapidly to collide against his cheek.
"Poking your nose around a bit too much, eh Roy?" came the familiar mocking voice. O'Hara...it had to be. The corrupt pig in question stood over him after shooting a kick into Roy's ribs.
"Still fighting like a coward O'Hara?" Roy asked defiantly as he slowly struggled to stand. O'Hara's lackey drew his fist back to punch, but not before Roy delivered the right cross from hell. O'Hara reached into his jacket for his gun, but not before Roy bull rushed him against the alley wall, letting him have it with both fists. They taught you how to fight like an animal in the army...Roy was a drunk, but he wasn't rusty.
"That's one hell of a way to quit smoking...been trying to kick the habit for a while." Roy quipped as his opponent fell to the ground. He reached in for O'Hara's gun and took it, searching his partner for any weapons before rushing in for the bartender.
"It's not safe for either of us here. Come with me if you want to see tomorrow" he said
-------
Roy heard the weight shift on his couch as Camilla stretched awake. After rushing his informant to safety, he managed to pull himself back to the apartment without being tailed. Roy dried his damp hair with a towel, having donned his pants after stepping out of the shower. His face was slightly cut from the glass shards, his right cheek bruised black from hitting the pavement.
"Slept well dear?" he asked, taking a seat across from her at the coffee table.