Curiosity Killed The Kat || Robin De Noir x OC

Chapter 13: Oh fuck. (Again)

Well. This sucks.

It'd been early when I woke, as it always was. But today felt different- for some reason. Today I was eager.

In my hurry I'd sprung out of bed and thrown on yesterdays clothes- not caring how I would smell (as per usual), grabbing my black bowler and tying my red scarf as I leapt out my bedroom door.

I was met, however, not by the red and black, empty hallway I'd expected- but with what seemed to be a huge, black, leather blob.

And of course, with my luck, I had not managed to stop in time.

Which brings me right up to now- where I am lying on the floor, groaning in annoyance as well as discomfort as I an being crushed to death by the aforementioned 'black leather blob'.

"Dammit Christopher!"

I closed my eyes and internally groan in (even further) annoyance.
This time because I had just become aware of the fact that me and 'blobby boy' here, were not alone.

We were surrounded (me still being flattened here by the way) by the rest of my 'gang'- each one smiling with a massive, smug grin carved across his face.

Oh fuck..
              ...That's never good.

Not for me anyway.

For a while they just stood there, smiling and talking joyfully amongst themselves. Seeming to have completely forgotten my presence all together as I roll my eyes at the stone ceiling above me.

Chris had promptly decided not to move, and was instead, joining in merrily to chat as he continued to squash me.

Lord, give me strength

"Oi- When you old birds are done with your mothers-meeting, would you mind giving me a fucking hand?!" I finally wheeze, using up what little breath I have left.

Cutting off the conversation, their heads all turn down to peer at me from underneath Chris. Eventually realising that my bones probably don't bend that way. Setting to work around him, they eventually all manage to roll him off me- thus most likely saving my life.

Once the group has dispersed to give me some space, I stand there with my hands on my knees, hunched over and  breathing like I had run for miles. Probably looking a bit ruffed up too, I had to stumble forward a few steps to collect my bowler hat from where it lay, tossed aside during my being knocked onto the floor and near suffocated.

I had managed to regain my breathing and dusted myself off when I finally turned to address the group. But before I can speak, I do a double take, suddenly taking notice of the bruising and cuts all over their faces, neck, hands- any skin open to the eye, really.

"What happened to lot?!" I ask, referring to their bloody battle wounds.

A series of awkward coughs and mumbling ensue. Along with embarrassed neck rubbing and low cast eyes.
Oh well, probably just some little scrap at the tavern.

I decided to let it pass.
Getting a straight answer out of these lot was like pulling teeth.

After silence comes around again, I wait expectantly.