Tyler wraps gauze around Jack’s knuckles and torso. They are both slick with sweat, and grime, and blood. That cooling smell of a basement lingers throughout the house on paper street. Tyler’s eyes linger on Jack. Even when they aren’t in fight club, they are. This is just a regular saturday night. “Did you know,” Tyler starts. He’s kneeling infront of Jack, still tightly bandaging him up. “There is more bacteria in your mouth than people on earth?”