It was a regular Tuesday night, fifty or sixty men crowded in the basement of Lou’s Tavern, ready to get eachother beaten in bloody, standard night of fight club.

Then, an angel from heaven graced the eyes of him and the other singing dancing pathetic earthly vessels he pounded his fists into. You. A girl walking into fight club.

“Well well well, whatever do we have here?” Tyler drawled, smoke coming out of his mouth in little twirls of grey, spiralling almost beautifully. The first thing you noticed was the stitch on his lip, then the bruises littering his skin.