“Ahhh!” Came a voice from inside the country club. “Asi que aqui es donde te escondias Scott!” the small group turned to see a young man in a well put together suit, holding two glasses of champagne walking towards us. He had black hair that hung over his eyes, and what appeared to be a burn scar all along the top right side of his face.

“Escondiendo?!” Scott laughed, familiarly, walking up to the newcomer. “Soy un albino haciendo carretas en encima de un balcon en plena vista de la barra.” He wrapped his arm around the newcomers shoulders and brought him over to Eddy and Jim. “Ya estas borracho, Hernan?”

The newcomer laughed, as Scott took one of the glasses, downing it. But upon noticing the two sets of eyes on him, physically shrunk into himself, taking a half step behind Scott. “Hello, Muhammed.” He whispered, barely audible.

“Good evening, Hernan.” Muhammed said, politely, turning to Jim. “Jim, this is Hernan Vidente. Hernan, James McAllister.”

“Pleasure.” He mumbled, as Scott stood next to him, smiling supportively.

What’s a Vidente doen' hangen' with a heretic?

I’ll ask.

Please don’t.

“Won’t your family burn you alive if they see you hangen with a heretic?”

I fucken hate you so much. 

-I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Hernan shrunk deeper into himself at the question, or possibly just the attention, while Scott took it in stride, even moving between us and his friend protectively. “I doubt even the Inquisition would be willing to take a bite out of America.”

“And the Dawson’s are America?” Jim asked.

“They may as well be.” Eddy said, looking over to Hernan, who blushed. “Kinda like the Vidente in the USC.”

“‘Sides, Hernan and me’ve known each other since childhood. Ain’t that right, Hernan?” Hernan just made a small noise of affirmation. Or a cry for help, it was hard to tell. “Besides the previous aside,” Scott continued, seeming to enjoy the words coming out of his rich mouth. “Hernan’s loyalty to the church isn’t as set in stone as his associates...and by that I mean family members.”

“Scott, please...” Hernan whispered.

“Ah a little theological uncertainty isn’t anything to be ashamed of!” Scott grinned. “It is the cornerstone of the beginning of creative and original thought.”

I have no idea what’s goen' on anymore. Jim said, probably still lost on the word ‘associates’.

They’re still talken religion, anyway.

Jim made a face. The fuck for?

Some people are in ta' that kinda thing I guess. 

-I shrug, rolling my eyes.

“It’s not-”

“And the reality of the matter is that the restriction of free thought does nothing for the growth of humanity.” Scott continued, talking over his friend. “And the Inquisition is no better than the monsters they claim to be the only defense against. One day it’ll be up to someone to stand up and shout against the horrors inflicted on our people.”

“I can’t-”

“Your people being the heretics of the world?” Eddy asked with a dismissive smirk.

Tell him not to encourage him. 

-I groan.

“That are murdered each passing day, yes.” Scott said, flatly. “We’re the voice of a new era, a new generation, Muhammed. Don’t you think that should mean something?”

“You don’t understand!” Hernan shouted, causing us to turn to him, shocked, although Scott didn’t move. “Everything is so easy for you! Your family will always protect you! Choices of faith is just a casual game for you! No one really cares! You aren’t affected by-”

An elbow hit Hernan square in the nose with an audible crunch. His head flew back, as blood splurted from his face. He fell to his knees, groaning in pain. We stood there as Scott, the attacker, grabbed Hernan by the hair, and bringing him to his knees, before slamming his own knee into Hernan’s chin, sending him back to the ground on his back.

Oh cool a fist fight. Jim said, sipping on a glass of champagne.

‘Bout time somethen normal happened at this damn party.

“Jeg forstar ikke?” Scott spat as he jumped on top of Hernan, grabbing him by his tie.”Du vet hva jeg har vaert gjennom!” he continued, as he started to repeatedly bash his fist into Hernan’s right eye. “Hva mine feil er! Min kindred er dod og spredt pa grunn av meg!” he roared, lifting Hernan up, to headbutt him, tears in his eyes, before returning to the assault on his barely conscious friend.

As he raised his fist again, however, two large men in suits grabbed Scott by the arms, and pulled him off his victim. “Jeg kan aldri mote dem igjen!” He continued to shout, as the men dragged him off, as a young man who was the spitting image of Scott, but with a neatly kept suit, short, tidy brown hair, and dark, uncaring brown eyes with a matching pair of those strange orange halos, with stylish glasses resting on his nose, led two more men in suites, one with a medical bag, over to Hernan. “Jeg er en feil for gudene!” Were the final words we heard from Scott Dawson, as his replacement waked over to us, and his men cared for the barely recognizable beaten form of Hernan.

“Oh fuck me.” Eddy mumbled, before smiling politely. “Hello, Richard.”

“Mister Muhammed Safi.” the newcomer said, more stating a fact than giving a greeting. “I apologize that this must be our first interaction of the evening.” he said, with the same monotone voice as before. “Also, the Dawson family offers its deepest and most heartfelt apology on the actions of my...brother.”

“Don’t think he’s the one you should be sayen' sorry to, anyway.” Jim said, nodding to the unconscious teen that was currently being taken away on a gurney.

Jim...

Richard regarded us with the briefest flicker of disgust before returning to that dry politeness. “Indeed, the Dawsons will be taking care of all of Mister Hernan Videntes medical bills and any undue damages that Scott Dawson may have caused. As per usual, I see no reason why this should reach public attention. These things, after all, happen.”

And I thought Garrett was a fucken' robot.

“Of course not, Richard.” Eddy said awkwardly. “No reason at all.”

“Very good.” He said, cleaning his glasses with an annoying amount of precision. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of the festivities. I assure you no further disruptions shall come from the Dawson household. Good day, Mister Muhammed Safi. Pardon me, I have other matters I must attend to.”

And with that, he sharply turned, and walked away. Jim turned to Eddy and raised an eyebrow. Eddy gave a dismissive shrug. “Forget it, Jim. You’ll sleep easier.”

“What’s gonna happen?” Jim asked, curious.

“Nothing.” Eddy said simply. “Reality of the matter is no one is going to want to screw with the Dawsons. This will be forgiven. It’s pretty minor, anyways.”

“And Scott’s deal was...”

Again, Eddy shrugged. “I just heard rumors, but...from what I get, Scott was part of some heretic church or whatever. When Mrs. Dawson found out she got real upset. She’s catholic. Apparently she called the Inquisition down on them.”

Holy fuck...

“On her own son?” Jim chuckled. “That’s fucken cold.”

“Yeah well, rich people right?”

“Good thing you chose us, innit?” Jim laughed, wrapping his arms around Eddy. “Come on, girls are looken for us.”

“How do you know that?” Eddy smiled, knowing the answer.

“Blitz.” Jim said simply. “I’ll always know when she wants me.”

So do dogs.

Fuck poison ivy.