It should've still been easy to hate the bastard. Would've made the whole goddamn experience easier to swallow. But it wasn't just the presence of those little girls that toned down the fire. That fight in the ring wasn't the last bit of catharsis they'd ever need, but it had been a start, and walking out of the arena, they'd both known it.

Now with time and distance between them, Tommy didn't have a clue what the hell that meant. All he was sure of is that he didn't feel the same burning need to punch Brendan Conlon square in the face without another word shared between them.

"It's called Darrow or something. 'Least, that's what they keep tellin' me," Tommy said, his big shoulders lifting in a shrug, "I been here like a month, man, and you probably know as much as I do."