"I'm gonna be in so much shit for this, brother." Tig's hand shunted hard into the tension bunched muscle of the Scot's upper arm, his other palm clasping the back of the other man's arm as he pressed against a blood-let that was already slicking up a wrecked leather rip and hot flushed skin. "Jarry's gonna cut my balls off and wear 'em. Jesus fuck."

"It's fine." Chibs was hissing his breath through slightly parted teeth, his head cocked over so that he could study the way Tig was closing hands against the skiff a bullet had taken along his arm. "Doesn't even need stitches."

"Doesn't need stitches." Tig snorted derisively into the repetition. "You cocky fucker, it's bleeding like a sieve."

"S'fine." Chibs winked at him on a shaky glance before his head tipped back, a shuddering and wracking breath launching off his lungs and past his still bloodied lip. "It'll stop."

"Hey." Jax's voice was a quick up flush between them, his hand a quick catch against Chibs' jaw. "You all right?"

"Fine, brother." Telford laid his tongue between his lips before a manic grin tipped over his lips, his left hand lifting to press Trager's hands away so that he could cover the graze with a full flattened palm. "Just fine."

"Yeah?" there was a worry tipping back into blue that had been hardened for what seemed like years since they'd left Diosa. "You wanna stop? Patch you up?"

"Wanna go home." Chibs replied quickly, glance laying back down so that he could test pulling his palm back, wincing into the way blood still flowed enough to make him blow out a breath and press back against it. "Just gimme a minute."

"What do you need?" Tig upped his jaw into the question as Teller moved toward Happy, his voice culling low. "Chibby?"

"Tie it off." Chibs shunted back on a quick nod as he released his palm long enough to wincingly draw his cut down, angling his upper arm higher and out from his body, "And don't break my balls, Tiggy. She's gonna be enough of a handful when she sees it. No narcing."

"The Rambo shit isn't gonna fly anymore." Tig murmured quietly as he fisted into the bottom hem of Rat's shirt, tugging the younger man closer with a jerk before both hands roughly drew a strip of fabric off.

"What the hell, man?" Rat slapped against the way Tig was smirking, watching with a pent up look as Trager tied off the still bloodied graze, hands quick and jerked as he dug the knot tight.

"Let the kids do it, VP."

"Why?" Chibs grinned into it on a rush of sudden wide awake adrenaline.

Tig gave him a cocked glance, "Age, responsibility and pussy."

The Scot grinned back, "I tend t'only be a fanatic of one of those things."

"Yeah," Tig cuffed his hand sharply against the tied wound, intentionally shunting a slap of more pain onto it, "you wanna keep your season tickets, jackass?"

Chibs smirked into the concern that was glinting bright eyes in the darkness, surprise slowly leveling his breathing. "You on her side now, Tiggy?"

"I'm on the side of the angels, VP."

Chibs chuckled into a ranged run of energized humor, "She's no bloody angel. Trust me."

"Well," she intentionally ignored the knifing glare that was aiming at her from across the room, "this is suitably awkward."

Unser gave her a sidelong smile as he sipped against a bottle, "You and Gem are gonna have to sort this out at some point. I mean, if this is gonna be a thing."

"Not happening tonight, Wayne." She clipped her arms around her torso, letting her weight balance onto one booted heel while the other leg went lax, her glance surfing over the scattered crowd of women and children. "So at least there are plenty of beds in this place in the kids need naps."

He snorted a laugh into the bottle, "You're the worst sort of elitist, Jarry."

"Yeah?" she sighed off as she finally let her back lax a little, "What sort is that?"

"The catty female sort."

Her brush of cocky and agreeable laughter met the way he passed an offer of the bottle in her direction. She shaded him a half dragged glance before shaking her head, letting her gaze trip back up toward the way Lyla was heading for the both of them, one of her boys lagging grudgingly behind her.

"You're earlier than I thought." The blonde offered softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Even she was surprised by the fact that the smile on her lips felt true and veering toward warm.

"This is Piper." Lyla easily ruffled her hand into the boy's hair, "Say hi to Ally."

The boy squinted her a petulant glance, his eyes lifting from the badge that was still clipped to her belt before rising, "You're a cop?"

"Unfortunately, yeah." Ally smirked surprise into it, catching the way Lyla hedged her a quickly apologetic glance. "Pay sucks. Trust me."

The boy just rolled a lazed glance toward his mother, eyes pleading.

"Go." Lyla waved off on a shake of the head, "Don't leave the building."

"Jesus." Ally shared a smirking look with Unser as she exhaled, the boy already ditching them as he headed for a cluster of women across the room. "And you say I'm an elitist."

"He's been around the guys for a long time." Lyla murmured quietly. "Sorry."

She waved her fingers up between them, shrugging it off, "It's okay."

"You look like you finally need that coffee." The blonde offered with a slowly growing smile.

Ally nodded a warm agreement and appreciation, watching as the other woman stepped away from them. She felt the humor fall from her face as she closed up on herself, arms looping tighter under her breasts as she blew out a breath of frustration. Wayne's hand clipped lightly against her arm in a press of brief support before he leaned nearer to her shoulder.

"The boy's second father died because crooked corrections officers penned him into a room and let a pack of convicts used his skull as a piñata, Ally." Unser's whisper was hashing so sadly quiet along her side. "You're standing hip deep in a whole lotta bad history."

"I realize that." She couldn't help the fact her shoulders tightened up.

"And they made those men watch." He added softly. "That's always gonna bleed over everyone in this room."

"I get it, okay?" Her head sharpened toward him tightly, eyes flecking a gilded brown as she sucked down a breath. "I get it."

"You don't, though." Wayne told her with a thinning look of force. "What you've been told, what you've read, it's never the whole story. It's never gonna meet up with their rationalizations for retribution."

"But I'm still standing here, right?" she sharpened over him.

"Yeah," he lifted his head in a challenging note, "why is that?"

She arched him a quick glare and laid an equally dank tone toward him, "Maybe I'm considering a lucrative career change."

His laughter met the lip of the bottle and she just rolled her eyes as she glanced back out over the room.