<strong>Jason Jefferson - Trying not to laugh at the two drunks before him.</strong><br/><br/>He found it too hard not to laugh at the drunkards that had approached him.  It looked like the one hadn't seen a treadmill since he had gotten out of high school.  The other one he'd have to worry about to a degree, but they wouldn't be able to stand up against him if he was careful as Jason stood and glared back with just an intense gleam to his eyes.  Slowly pulling the right sleeve of his jacket and black shirt up past the tattoo he had gotten for his time in the service, Jason smile became razor thin.  "I am a former Marine, five years in Iraq and elsewhere in that desert landscape corner of the Earth.  I've seen Hell first hand, and while I appreciate the fact you have a brother in the police force, I don't appreciate pissants who don't have enough brain cells to make electricity when rubbed together getting in my face.  So, you want to step back or do you want me to lay you flat?"  Jason asked in turn, just itching for a fight but he wouldn't strike first.  That way, if questioned later, he would honestly say that he had defended himself and had given them plenty of warning before punches started to fly.