[CW: language]

Joe tumbled out of the front door onto the street, his bots sliding on the cobbles, a mass of arms and legs desperate for speed.

"Hey!" he bellowed. It was a loud practiced roar, for a timid voice would not have been heard over the din of engines at the station. It probably attracted more than a few peeking eyes behind curtains. The carriage had too much of a head start. He slowed to a defeated stop a short distance away.

"Fuck it!" he screamed. He didn't care that the cool evening air of Osway Street was thick with blue.

"Have they?" Joe shouted back at his father, his tone a mixture of disbelief, rage, fear, and incredulity. "Well then, they should've stopped in fer a cup! Polite like." Joe's words were thick with sarcasm and disrespect. "They've taken me fuckin' wife! Don't start!"

Right now if his father was offended enough and wanted a brawl in the street, Joe was all too happy to oblige.