Jack felt a sharp tap on his right shoulder. When he turned to face his approacher his opponent caught him off guard by a painful blow to the stomach. "You coulda had me killed, Spot," Jack groaned, rubbing his pained ribs as he resumed the fight.
"Sorry bro," Spot grinned, "Where's Anne?"
Jack ignored his question, because he knew his reaction would not be very pleasant, "I guess you're feelin' betta' after dis afternoon?" His sentence was meant to be more of a question than a statement.
"Yeah," he paused, "but where's Anne?" Spot continued to grin, though his tone was obviously more serious.
"You mean dat you haven't seen her?" Jack asked, his grin fading quickly.
Spot knocked his opposite to the ground and shoved Jack around to look him in the eye. Jack grew terribly nervous at the frown Spot bared. "Well?" he asked.
"We were fighting beside each odder and den all of a sudden she wasn't there. She'd been worried about ya all afternoon, so we thought dat she'd probably gone out ta look for ya," Jack replied.
Spot shoved his way past him abruptly.
"Wait! Where are ya goin'?" Jack yelled after him as he took off down the darkened street.
"To go look for her. She can't possibly be safe out on da streets at dis time a night."