[Mickey figures it out then -- what Cassel thinks happened -- and shakes his head. He moves away from the bag and goes to sit down, straddling one of the benches.]
I got in a fight.
[He starts unwrapping his hands with a veil of disinterest, like it's just something that needs doing. It is, but he also wants Cassel to see. Underneath the wraps the bandages around each fist are mottled, a fresher, darker red where they hit the bag, but brown and rusty elsewhere with the lingering stain of yesterday's blood. Maybe not the nicest thing to look at, but proof in their own way: he didn't do this to give Cassel a taste of his own medicine or to make some kind of point. He gets into fights. It's what he does.]
spam
I got in a fight.
[He starts unwrapping his hands with a veil of disinterest, like it's just something that needs doing. It is, but he also wants Cassel to see. Underneath the wraps the bandages around each fist are mottled, a fresher, darker red where they hit the bag, but brown and rusty elsewhere with the lingering stain of yesterday's blood. Maybe not the nicest thing to look at, but proof in their own way: he didn't do this to give Cassel a taste of his own medicine or to make some kind of point. He gets into fights. It's what he does.]
You should see the other guy.