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Both of you are pretty mangled but the two of you COULD keep going if you really wanted to.
You dig the knife out of your leg. You notice how the material that makes your combat bodysuit is immediately filling up the wound punched in by the knife. Huh, cool. It doesn't HEAL your injury but you feel like it'll help you to heal it off quicker. It still hurts to move anything but you definitely feel tougher after all of that.
>-3 FLESH (reduced from 4) to Frank, -2 FLESH (reduced from 5) to you!
>+1 max FLESH and VIOLENCE to you and FRANK!
>FRANK's MAX FLESH is 8, your MAX FLESH is 7. Both of your VIOLENCE stats are now 7. FLESH for both of you is now 4/8 and 4/7 respectively.
>+1 RAPPORT WITH FRANK! 2/8 NOW!
He holds out his hand. You accept it, grabbing onto his hand. The both of you shake on a fight well done.
"Tired now. Wanna get drunk?"
"What do I look like, a basic bitch?" You snort. "Let's go inside."
The two of you get onto your feet. Due to one of your feet definitely being shattered or at least dislocated, Frank offers a bit of kindness by letting you lean on his shoulder as you two to the steak house. He immediately pulls away once you reach the front door with a snort.
"Last one to the table is a dumb looking doe bitch." He immediately breaks into a sprint, way faster than you can run in your tired state.
Prick. That's more than you expected from him at least. You spend the next few minutes waddling through the abandoned, opulent steakhouse. You already got a good look inside and aside from the glass exterior, it looks like any other steakhouse. Maybe it's the migraine preventing you from making any meaningful observations.
You soon find that all of your allies are sitting around a large round table, with Frank + Otto + Alexis sitting at the west end while Maruyama + Adam + Benedict sit at the east end. There's one chair planted at the 'front' or north end of the table, clearly meant for you.
A king's feast worth of food and drink is scattered across the table. Waygu beef, steaming hot lobsters, bisques and soups, smoked salmon, piles of biscuits caked in garlic butter, scallops...all with high class wines and whiskey. Your stomach grows upon seeing all of this fresh, delicious food in front of you.
Your group looks up at you and for a moment, worry and panic washes over their faces...before they put two and two together and realize that Frank probably had something to do with it. You dismiss any worries with one simple statement.
"I threw a fucking road roller at someone, if I wanted to actually fight him I would've. It was a sparring match." With that, you sit down at the table. "So, no one is gonna notice we're eating all of this food for free, yeah?"
"Considering no one is here but us AND the chefs owe us?" Otto, with his bare hands, is chewing down on a prime hunk of ribeye. "Don't think they care that much."
"fair." As you prep a plate of biscuits and salmon, you take a moment to think on what to say to everyone.
