<div class="floatleft">(http://www.inyourbones.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/David400-228x350.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ryan 'Private' Murray (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12379624#msg12379624)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>San Francisco, California / August 2017 / 8:30 PM<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Billie Tucker<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Spending Money<br/><hr/>He honestly didn't blame her. He didn't remember the names of most of the guys that he fought. He kept an honor roll of the guys that had actually been good fighters, and had probably only lost because of his, well, his condition. The first time he used it also came to mind, a lot, but he didn't recall the huge man's name. Plus, most of the guys had some ridiculous nicknames like 'Shark' or 'The Bull' or 'The Tank', and other such things. He disliked the use of a fighting stage name. There wasn't anything on this world that was like him and nothing that he was like. There were some similarities between what he did and a jackhammer, but using that as his fighting name was just...<br/><br/>Well, it was just all sorts of wrong.<br/><br/>He shook her offered hand, discretely wiping the transferred grease on a nearby and clean napkin," Nice to meet you, Billie."<br/><br/>She asked a question, he suddenly realized, tossing the napkin with perfect aim into a nearby waste receptacle. He knew the owner of the place, and the fact that she hated littering more than she hated feds, burnt meat and unkempt beards. Of course, there was no avoiding a mess when you had this many people and this much alcohol in the one place, but whoever started the mess would be getting an earful and a boxed ear. Because she treated most of the Wildlings, male or female, like they were ten years old, for some reason. Every MC charter needed a matriarch, after all.<br/><br/>"I'll be in Cali for a week or so, helping out. Likely gonna be heading up and down the West coast over the next couple months, crashing here for the most part. Some trouble back in Boston that I'm avoiding," No need to get into details. No need to share just why they called him the Unbreakable Man.<br/><br/>"About that sitting though... well, riding is a form of sitting. The only difference is that there's something vibrating, to some extent or another, underneath," He smiled crookedly as he finished that sentence. He wasn't generally this forward, but she didn't seem to be skating away from that sort of topic. Seemed rather comfortable around it, in fact. He leaned back in his seat and looked a little longingly towards the grill.<br/><br/>"I'll be right back," He said suddenly, springing quickly to his feet and jogging over to where they were serving the meats and food stuffs. He picked a plastic plate of his own and proceeded to pile on some food, ribs, meat cuts, sausage, dirty rice and  some of the house's special couscous salad. Grabbing a thankfully real fork and another mug of draught, he returned to his chair.