Guy Funnuchi, the pub

Guy sat at the bar with his face covered and his shoulders plumped over. He held small glass of an acorn beer, yet it was almost empty, and he was in need of a refill, but he was in no mood to ask for one. He looked at the cuts on his arm and finished off the rest of his drink. He had been rewarded the damage from a fight he was in 2 days ago, after a fighter bashed him with a bottle, and tried to slash at him, only to learn Guy was a little more courage as he thought, and moved in on his opponent.

 He had one the fight, but the nasty deal of flesh it removed had not grow back yet, the cuts had become infected and festered more every day, and had become almost unbearable. He knew he needed to go to the clinic, but he needed the money to hire an exterminator, maybe that's why he got infected, all the mice and roaches in his one room home had gotten to him. He looked at his glass as a man sat next to him and started talking smack to him.

He didn't pay much attention, he just continued to look at his glass and grow thirsty with each glass, that was until he heard the man call him a name he wished never existed, it made him want to kill anyone who said it, it was like a trigger word for him. The man called him a hick, which proved yet again that he was drunk, as if the swaying and slurr he had between each and every word. They were in los angles, and in the city no less, yet still he turned to the man and and gave him an elbow to his cheek, as hard as he could. The man flopped to the floor and Guy sighed. He needed a drink. Guy took the glass and shook it a little.
"can I get another round over here"