Grantaire was racing
down a dark alley towards the sounds of a fight, and while he was no stranger
to a good brawl this sort of scenario was frustratingly familiar. At the end of the alley was a scene he more
or less expected to see: three big, burly blokes holding a scrawny twig of a
kid up against the brick wall that closed off the alley, taking turns punching
him. It was satisfying to see that the
boy continued to fight despite being well and thoroughly beaten, kicking out and yelling, but Grantaire wasn’t about to let
this play out any further. He stormed
down the alley with a roar, pulled back the first guy he could get his hands
on, and belted him across the face. The
man went down like the sack of shit he was.
The second guy turned on Grantaire with some very inappropriate language which Grantaire returned
enthusiastically as they fell on each other.
It didn’t take long for the remaining two to sense how badly the tide of
this fight had changed – they may be big guys, but Grantaire did underground
boxing and had a face already so ugly he wasn’t afraid of having it beaten a
bit more – and they finally turned tail, shouting a few, lingering insults
“Enjolras,” he said in
cordial greeting, his hands shooting out and grabbing the kid around the middle
just as he was about to dart out of the alley after the people who had just been beating him senseless.
huffed in return.