Don dashed to the seat and greeted his partner. "Hey Mallory---"

"Don't talk to me"

"What's wrong?" 

Mallory raised a brow to him and squinted as he took a long sip on his beer. 

Don tilted his head to think. He sat down besides him and gave a sly smile. 

"Are you jealous?" 

"No, what makes you say that?" 

Alicia shook Mallory's shoulders mildly. "Just sharing some juicy info, Baretta and Don were the love team in our theater class." 

"It was nothing serious, really." Don clarified. 

"Nothing serious?" Mallory sneered  as he crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. "She held you like a stripper to her pole."

"Look, Love. She isn't my type."

"She's literally a beauty queen." 

"True, but I don't care." 

"..You don't?" Mallory asked with pure skepticism. 

"Absolutely. I don't trust her as much as you."

"Why is that?"

Don shrugged. "We don't agree on many things. Also, I get really fed up on her selfishness--- Oh hey Baretta." He coughed as he heard someone's footsteps behind him. 

"Hey guys!" Baretta shouted as  strutted towards their table. The group greeted her back. 

"Hey, Mallory." She smiled synthetically. 

Mallory glanced at Don and greeted back. "Hi. What do you want?"

A stranger appeared behind her back, who has tattoos on his neck and earrings. He has a taper fade mohawk, five o'clock shadow beard, wore a green bomber jacket, black ripped jeans, and Goth boots. 

Mallory's grip at Don tightens, alerting his lover. 

"Marshal?" the man spoke.

"It's Mallory, Osvald."

Don changed the position of his drink on his left hand and tried to shake Osvald's hand. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Osvald." 

"I can't say the same, Blondie". Osvald replied. 

Don brought his drink back at his right hand and took a sip, glimpsing at Mallory discreetly. Osvald then proceeded to touch Mallory's shoulder with a pleasant smile."Hello, Mallory-"

"You might want to get your hands off me before I chop it off." Mallory abruptly said in monotone to conceal his boiling rage. 

Don smirked proudly of Mallory, which made Osvald glare at him. Baretta smirked and uttered sinisterly. "I'll just be handling some business, you guys have fun." 

She walked off as Osvald took a seat besides Brooks. Brooks goes to the other guests to join, ignoring the others. 

"Do you know him?" Don asked to Mallory. 

Mallory cupped his hands into his ears. "He's my ex-boyfriend." 

Don became slightly jealous and more curious. "Oh. What happened to you two?" 

"Nothing special. He asked me for money all that time. Then after a year, I figured out he has gone spending it on fucking hookers."

"Tsk, tsk." 

Osvald noticed them and turned his attention to Mallory. "Hey." He said, alarmingly inebriate. 

"I have a name." Mallory replied. "Can you just pretend me and Don are not here and leaving us alone?"

Osvald ignored Mallory's request. "I didn't know you're dating another guy. So tell me, Mallory… What does it feel like dating a person more famous than you are?" 

Mallory paused and glared at him, then opened his mouth. "A huge improvement from dating an asshole." 

"What do you mean by that?" Osvald said as he stood up and clenched his fists. 

"Oh, you have the audacity to be offended." Mallory angrily said as he stood up despite Don's worried stare. 

"Well, you could've given me a second chance! It was just a one night stand!" 

"I don't care about your whores! You wasted my fucking hard-earned money. Now you try to cling to me?" Mallory yelled. "Piss off!" 

Alicia stood up and tried to appease Osvald with a cocktail. "Look guys, whatever happened between you two in the past, can we not bring it in the club?" 

Osvald shook his head, ignoring her. "How could I when he put me into jail!" 

Mallory's voice became more strained, while Osvald sounded more aggressive and rowdy. "It was not my motherfucking fault." 

"Oh right." Osvald recalled as he turned his head up the ceiling then faced Mallory. "It was your retarded brother who told them." 

Mallory goes closer to Osvald, pissed-off, and glared at him. "What did you call my brother?" 

"Retarded." 

Mallory scowled and bitch-slapped him across the face, producing a collective gasp of shock from the group. Don began to stand up from the table. 

Osvald felt the sting from his cheeks. His face turned tomato red from anger. He shoved Alicia aside, and comes closer to Mallory. "Why you cunt..." He muttered before shoving Mallory to the table. The bottles and fragile champagne glasses fell off and crashed to the ground. Colorful kinds of liquors soaked Mallory's dress as he tried to get up.

Don notified his friends. "Brooks, Alicia, Get the bouncer. I'll handle this." The two nodded and hurried towards the watchful crowd. He then rushed towards his lover. The tattooed man was about to smash Mallory with a wine bottle, but he snatched him by the wrist before he could take a swing.

"It's time for you to get out, Osvald. Except if you want to have a bad time." Don calmly warned. Osvald—drunk from alcohol and rage—charged towards Don. 

Don dodged, making him hit the table instead. Osvald stood up and punched him in the arm. He winced momentarily and darted his eyes at the glass bottle laying on the floor. As Osvald charged again, he picked it up and smashed it on the drunkard's face. 

Osvald cried in pain as shards of glass pierced his face. A few sharp shards prickled at Don's face, making Don wince slightly. Osvald groaned in pain as his face bled, which forced him to kneel. Mallory covered his mouth in horror and gasped as he saw Osvald's bloody face.

Don's pupils constricted as he grabbed a nearby chair. He felt his adrenaline rushed the same way it did a long time ago, and it felt strangely nostalgic to him.

His heart was racing, the sweat in his forehead dripped from his brows, and his body trembled as he swung the chair above his head; targeting against his foe's skull.

Before Osvald could look up, Don smacked him with all his might. Blood almost painted the floor as Don hit him over, and over, and over again.

Mallory was horrified and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Don! stop! Please!"

Don didn't hear him and continued to batter the poor man. The chair finally broke into pieces. He picked up a chair leg and was about do it again until he felt a tight grip and nails on his arm. He turned his head sharply and saw Mallory's head on his shoulder.

"That's enough. Please," Mallory hoarsely said, gripping his arm. "This is not what I thought you are."

Don's pupil dilated and his adrenaline steadily wore off. He dropped the chair leg and tilted his head down, facing the bloody mess he made.

"I'm sorry," Don softly said.

Mallory didn't know what to do or think. "Let's just go," he gently told Don.