Feisty, saucy women with sugar tits and a sweet pussy tended to be the way Jack liked to go. Under a haze of hard liquor and pain, he could still appreciate the finer things when they were handed over to him, even if to some men it was considered tart and a little bitter, with the aftermath leaving them scorched and begging for water. It was that kick that he really craved. And it was that fucking sucker punch over the counter that had Jack grinning like a sonuvabitch into the glass of whiskey Olivia had passed over to him. He knocked it back quick so that it burned smooth down his throat, stung the cuts on his lip, and settled in warm inside his gullet. Underneath the numb tingle of the booze, though, he felt a different kind of tingle. Skin stitching together, itching down deep as it healed. To the point that he had to mentally check himself before he was squirming on his seat.<br/><br/><br/>He expected to be as good as new by morning.<br/><br/><br/>Well. With the exception of what he had to do now. The shot glass he slammed down and pushed away. Champagne infused stare passed from Olivia to the crowd that now swarmed her, to the tats that they showed proudly on their arms. Fucking gangbangers. The stool scraped loudly against the floor as Jack pushed himself back and stood just as the fucker she had punched reached over the bar and grabbed her right by the front of her tight black tee to haul her over. The second whiskey drunk man, her boss, he knew, was swaying too much on his feet when he got up to try and pull one of the men away from the bar, earning himself a good cross hook to the face. The old guy stumbled back and caught his hip against the edge of the bar before springing back into action like an old dog that had been kicked, knocking the man who had punched him down with his full weight.<br/><br/><br/>That left Jack with five against one, starting with the fuck that had touched the bartender. He was the first one to be jerked back by the collar of his shirt hard enough that it snapped his head back and spittle few. Only to shove him forward again, face first into the edge of the bar. This time, it was blood that flew instead of spit as the man’s nose broke against the wood. Jack felt hands grabbing at him from behind, both pushing and pulling. He resisted at first, then released the man he had slammed into the bar to whirl around, suddenly surrounded.<br/><br/><br/>He laughed.<br/><br/><br/>A stray fist flew, looking to deepen the shiner he already had over his eye, but Jack ducked down at the last minute so that the fucker went sailing, propelled by his own weight. Ducking forward, Jack’s fist caught the man square in his beer cut, knocking the wind out of him. Just in time for a kick to catch him in the shin from the left, making him falter in his own inebriated state. Jack grunted, catching himself, then swung all 180 pounds of muscle weight into the fucker who had kicked him, sending them both sprawling to the floor. He spun, rolling, his hands grabbing at the wrists attached to the fists trying to knock him good in the face, while simultaneously trying to get his knee up and between the gangbanger’s legs.<br/><br/><br/>“C’mon, you bastard, get off me!” Jack grunted, finally rolling them both over so that he was the one pinning the guy down instead of the other way around. And he still had guys surrounding him on all sides. Looks like he was going to have to pull out the fire power for this foray.<br/><br/><br/>Bearing down, he held the guy down, incentivizing the situation with a fist delivered to his eye, while his other hand reached and snatched up the .45 he had tucked away under his shirt. “LISTEN THE FUCK UP!” That got their attention. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE OR I WILL BE SENDING YOU A BILL TO COVER CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR BLOOD WINDS UP ALL OVER THE FLOOR.”