The older man flicked out an old zippo, firing up his own ciggarette; the flash of light gave a glimpse of a face of weathered stone. His eyes where upon the ciggarette, not even moving to him before the satisfying cherry bud appeared. The lighter flicked away in a smooth motion, catching Gay's eye for a fraction of a second; then, a cinderblock caught him right in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

The man took a step back, seeing if the boy would take a knee; that kind of punch usually did that kind of thing to a man, no matter how tough they were. When he did not, Stephen decided to interrupt any thoughts of swinging back at the aged assassin; against a bare knuckle boxing champion, he wouldn't hold back... which might entail killing him.

"Kid, I just left a comfortable bed draped with a twenty something blonde who's all aquiver just thinking about me, just to come and talk to you. I know what you're thinking; 'this old bastard thinks he can hit me and talk to me like this? I'll show him!'" He paused for effect, hands in his pockets; he seemed to relax, but he was coiled like a serpent, ready to lash out if provoked.

"I wouldn't, kid; I wouldn't screw with someone like me... especially if that someone were offering you a chance to have the life you always wanted, ever since the first day they called you The Wuss." Harlan spoke, emphasizing that last word; he watched how it burned, mixed with the shock of hearing someone else say it after all this time.

"Don't just stand there gaping and panting." Stephen remarked, turning and walking towards the nearest all night diner; it was far too early, and after the night's 'activities,' he had grown an appetite.

__________________
"When they ask how I died, tell them; Still Angry." -Quellcrist Falconer
"It was Kovacs who said "Mother" then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.
It was Rorschach who opened them again." -Rorschach