GTT: Tempers, Tempers

Devin craned her neck. “Wait..” She said, stretching on her tiptoes. “I think that’s them over there?” She took a few steps to get a better vantage point and found herself bumped into, and a commotion behind them. “The fuc…” she started to say when an elbow caught her on the bridge of the nose. Assholes nearby, starting a fight over what she wasn’t sure of, but hot-tempered, tired, cranky adrenaline-fueled crowds did what they did best, and punches were suddenly flying.

Saint was grabbed by the collar of his shirt by a man who might have mistaken him for someone else or may have just been looking for a fight, but he quickly found a fist thrown his way as well.

“Are you shitting me? A fucking riot?” Rodrigo said. “Violence never solved anyth--”

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