*Birthday Self-Indulgence*

[niko]

Gifting myself with permission to vent a gratuitous little fight scene that's been nagging me for a couple months, without fretting over all the run-on's and parenthetical bits I'm prone to.  (Or, you know, having a plot.)

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Later, when it is over - well and truly over - Ezra will reflect that the whole fiasco is entirely his own fault.  Only a fool, after all, would beard Chris Larabee in his den after the sort of day they've all had... the sort of day that ends with wise men retreating to lick their wounds in private and their fearless leader hip deep in a bottle of Red Eye, getting meaner by second.

But right now - at this exact moment - crawling to hands and knees amid the wreckage of his favorite table, his head ringing from the blow that landed him here and the coppery tang of blood in his mouth - Ezra Standish is well beyond caring about Mr. Larabee's tender sensibilities.  He has at least two sheets in the wind himself, and in the sudden, expectant hush of the normally raucous saloon, he is aware only of a stinging humiliation and a simmering rage that demands nothing short of recipricol action.

And so, he takes his time getting his feet under him, pushes himself upright with careful, controlled poise... and halfway up, he launches himself at Chris Larabee in a full-out tackle that throws them both over and reduces a second table to kindling.

He's dimly aware of men scrambling out of the way, a voice yelling for someone to "get the others", of tumbling through the batwings and into the street, and then nothing at all but a blur of fists and knees and shouted epithets - and an occasional bark of what might be laughter - laughter - from Larabee that makes Ezra's vision go red.

And then, all too soon, well-meaning hands are pulling the two of them apart and Vin’s voice is in Ezra's ear saying “Whoa, now! Easy...” as if he’s gentling a horse, and Nathan’s forcing him back while Buck and Josiah do the same to Chris.  Ezra wants to fight his way out of their hold.  They're nowhere near finished - won't be until one or both of them goes down and doesn't get back up - but he suddenly catches sight of the circle of townsfolk around them.  The saloon crowd has spilled into the street, most of them cowboys gawking at the show, but it's the others who catch Ezra's eye - Gloria Potter, Virgil Watson... Mary Travis, clearly rowsed from her bed by the commotion.  Good, honest people who have given Ezra their trust and respect.  The thought sobers him up quicker than much else could, and if it doesn't quite do away with the anger, well...

Ezra pulls himself away from Vin’s grasping hands, straightens his ruined coat, gathers what dignity he can to return to the saloon - deserted now, save for a few stalwarts too far into their cups to notice the earlier exodus.  He hasn't taken more than a few steps through the batwings before Nathan is following him, wanting to know “What the hell was THAT?”, and Ezra thinks he may have a bit of fight left in him after all.  But Mr. Tanner’s right on Nathan's heels saying “Let it go.” and Mr. Jackson – for a wonder – does. 

For now, anyway. 

Ezra’s sure that won’t be the end of it, and for the first time in a long while, he feels the urge to pack his bags right now – right this *moment* – and leave this wretched town for good.

Except that would be running out, and - Mr. Larabee’s opinion to the contrary - Ezra has no intention of abandoning his duty to the town or its people.  And so Ezra calmly retrieves his hat and a few bills from the shattered remains of the poker table.  He settles the hat on his head, leaves the bills on the bar to cover the damages, and heads upstairs to lick his wounds in private.