Uncertain. If the others are wavering then let's wrap it up. If they're definitely committed then sure.
I'm still feeling the rules out.
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Les decided to chip in by clipping one of the mooks along the jaw... First round attack bonus
+1 total... 12 + 1 = 13 Shot cost 3 2 speed remaining Your first Martial Arts attack of any fight gets a +2 bonus.
Narrator: Les caught the Chinese blokes hint. He'd stood hundreds of shifts outside the infamous Kelly Club and had developed a keen nose for when things would kick off... Les moved to one side and waited for the inevitable.
Les walks up to Lei. Wheres the cop?, clearly unaware that he's totally not involved in the situation. And what's the go? standing right outside the door way the thugs went into without looking in the shop... oblivious to them.
Know what Mr. Gweilo? I think those two are gonna get in a lot of trouble... oh, f+~# it... Maybe the cop will do me a favour afterwards. Stranger things have happened. Les throws a note on the bar then leaves to follow the chuckleheads following the Triads.
Good on ya Gweilo... not worth the trouble, and ya brew a decent beer too! Les holds up the empty bottle and waves. Same again Luv.
Hey, that's the name of my beer! Does that guy own the brewery?
Didn't see that coming, the Aussie thinks. Cops work fast here!.
Awwww... 'ere we go again, Les mutters to himself. Narrator: Now Les was no angel, and no stranger to a shake down either. In fact he'd been on both sides of the equasion but judging by the number of two-bob heavies and the way that their boss was carrying on like a pork chop he reckoned that this was gonna get messier than the floor of a Marrickville Maccas... He took another big pull on the beer, sucking it down to the dregs. It wasn't a Foreccs, but it was at least cold. If things went sideways it might be the last beer he got in the near future. Not my rodeo... f++% it. I'm meant to be on holiday, he said deciding to see how events played out before he put his size 12's into it.
Les has crammed his large frame into a corner table that was set up to handle any overflow... the cheap plastic chair creaking ominously under his weight, and making the circular compact folding table appear almost comically small. G'day Love... I'm stingin' fer a beer. None of that yank piss either. Sling us one o' those Tsingtao's eh? He says butchering the pronunciation. You want beer heya? Tsingtao beer? Mou Laaa!, the waitress declared, shaking her head and flipping her hand importantly. I bring you other beer! Hou Yam, Hou Yam ahh. You like it for sure. Errr... yeah, the heavily perspiring hulking redhead said surrendering in desperation. Sure... you bring whatever you have - just make sure its cold eh? Strike me dead, the bloody humidity outside is worse than Cairns. I'm drier than a Goanna's tongue!. The waitress flounced off to small refrigerator, and pulled out a glass bottle, reaching past half a dozen bottles of Tsingtao beer in order to find the desired brand. She returned and slapped the bottle down on the table triumphantly. This beer good beer for you, she says opening it with a practiced flip of a bottle opener, without waiting for approval or agreement. Les peered at the lable... "鬼佬啤酒 - Gweilo Beer", and shrugged before taking a deep pull on the bottle.
I think I have what I need in this profile |