Dallas had been a tough guy for as long as you’ve known him. He’d been in jail more time than you could count on your fingers. You’d been lucky that he hadn’t been sentenced to life in prison for something, most time you’d seen him in jail for was a couple of months.

After a rumble, you took Dallas to the Curtis household and started to patch up his cuts and scrapes. No one had made it back yet. You were wrapping some gauze around his hands when he began to speak, "Everyone thinks I like to fight, but that’s not true. Sometimes I lose my temper and blow off some steam but I never enjoyed it." He stopped for a second and breathed a sigh of air, "I’m not a violent guy, I don’t know why I fight."