Living with Dante {Devil May Cry fanfic~} #1

Part 28

Chill out, ppl. Things are going to turn out fine, for Dante and everyone. But let's focus on something else, kay? Remember to vote and leave a comment ^^v

Part 28:

Damon’s P.O.V

It took me more than a few tries and many threats to demons before I found Trish. And when I did find her, the circumstance weren’t as I hoped. For one fact, I had only walked to the nearest pub for a drink to clear off my head, plainly giving up on looking for the demonness that wore Eva’s face.

I called for the strongest scotch they had, and looked around the pub as I waited for the heavenly drink to arrive.

And there she was. Downing a strange-looking drink on her own, the tear tracts still visible across her cheeks. The two mesmerizing blue orbs stared at the bottom of the drink, as if remembering what that just happened not long ago. Then she wiped the corner of her eyes and signaled for another round.

I watched as a guy walked towards her, the intent bright in his eyes. He walked up to her, smiling at her teary-eyed state. I watched as he chatted with her, his hands on her shoulder as if trying to make a move on a weak target the likes of her.

My anger and jealousy poured forth. She didn’t deserve this type of guys. Not now, not while she was down, and reeling from the shock of everything that Dante had said to her. Right now, she needed someone to lend her a shoulder to cry on, someone who cared for her and not just someone who wanted a pleasurable time with her body.

I grabbed the scotch that was placed in front of me, jumped off my seat and made towards the woman in topic. The guy was already making his move on her, trying to get a feel of her assets, trying to persuade her to go with him.

I didn’t even hesitate a single bit, stopping his hand from going further south from her belly.

“What-” He began to curse, but his words were broken when I pushed his hand away, sending a punch across his face that had him falling from his seat.

“Back off. She doesn’t deserve you and your dirty thoughts.” I warned as he glared at me, wiping off the blood at the corner of his lips.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see what she thinks about you all bloody and bruised.” He challenged back in reply, only moments before he lunged his entire weight on me.

There wasn’t even a single break of sweat. One moment he was nursing a sore cheek. The next, he had a black eye, a cut lip and a half-broken head. For a single fact, he was on the floor, rolling and bawling, begging that no more be given. Some of the other clubbers had taken a step in to stop me, and I –for my part –pretended that I was being held back by them, when what really held me back was the silence on Trish’s part.

It was ironic; how I could easily beat him up when I had one hand holding my scotch, and my other grabbing hold of my sword. At one point of time, I had lost my temper and control of my strength that left the glass cup shattering within my palm. It was the only injury I sustained in this minor fight.

Surprisingly, the fight ended without a ruckus. After I made it clear that I wasn’t planning on raining more blows on the guy, they let me off quite quickly, and the bartender even helped chase the guy away. Turned out the guy was always here as a dirty lecher, trying to hit on young girls. The bartender even thanked me for helping rid the pub off that dirty guy.

I went back to Trish’s side, watching her as she watched me back unemotionlessly. She had finished two more drinks watching my fight, and another one while I cleared up the mess I’d made.

She didn’t even speak when I reached her. The first thing she did was to take my still bleeding hand, upturning it to make sure that the blood caught the light.