*Thor*
I stride into the bar in time to see the melee break out, to watch in horrified fascination as Gina propels herself through the air like a cannonball being shot by a ship and lands on some poor bloke, carrying him down to the floor. Suddenly fists are flying, while the thud of flesh hitting flesh, the crash of glassware, the ping of pewter, the clattering of chairs and tables being smashed fills the air.
Grunts and yells echo around me, as I limp hurriedly toward Gina to offer aid, avoiding one punch after another, shoving one fellow after another aside. I am like a madman in my rush to get to her, as though I alone can save her, as though she is all that matters.
She is all that matters. That thought echoes through my mind with an intensity that might have caused me alarm if I
