It's been some time, but I was in the mood. Here's more of the Frye twins, up to their usual shenanigans. And yeah, its named for the Mumford and Sons song.

Evie bobbed and weaved around her opponent, fists raised. Sweat glistened on the bare skin of her arms and neck. The guy was twice her size and looked like he could hit twice as hard…if he could actually land a punch. Looked like a dockworker. All grit and grease and weathered skin.

Jacob smirked, watching from the sidelines with the rest of the crowd, braying, yelling and betting around him. Whitechapel's fighting ring was a smoky den of violence, drinking and gambling. Built almost underground, more like an animal's den than anything else.

Her opponent lunged again. Strong, clearly. But clumsy as hell. Evie was already in his blind spot, raising her fists again.

The crowd upped the ante, money changed hands. Most were betting the guy would turn and lay her out flat, maybe even knock her across the ring.

Jacob knew better.

"Tenner on Evie." He nudged a bookie.

The docker spun, lashing out with his elbow. Evie dropped under his arm and snarled, springing upward, driving her fist up into his gut. The man coughed, snapping forward and Evie stepped back.

The crowd stilled. Jacob crossed his arms and leaned on the fence, grinning.

"Wrrgghh…" The docker groaned, struggling to stand upright.

A smirk flashed across Evie's lips as she drew back her fist and smashed it into the guy's jaw, slicing down. He made a garbled noise, and spat a mouthful of blood and what looked like a few teeth, then caved over sideways.

Evie lowered her fists, shoulders finally slumping as she allowed herself to relax.

Around her, were the groaning, rolling bodies of half a dozen more idiots who'd picked the wrong day to try their luck.

His sister had told him about her scrap with Lucy Thorne at St. Pauls the day before. It had been close, to hear her tell it, and he knew that made Evie edgy. She never liked to feel she wasn't in control.

This was just her way of…relieving stress, mixed in with a little practice. But mostly stress relief.

"Feeling better yet?" He chuckled, calling out through the din of the crowd. Sounded like plenty of winners and losers on both sides.

Some knew his sister by now, some didn't.

"A bit." She cracked her knuckles, rolling her neck as she strolled over to the edge.

Most of the onlookers filtered away, some smiling, some less happy, leaving the den suddenly much quieter.

Jacob nodded to the bookie, accepting his winnings with a smirk. He quickly dropped the small purse into a pocket in his hat and popped it back on, slanted to one side. As crooked as his grin, Evie would have said.

It wasn't really gambling when you were betting on his sister.

Evie dropped her arms on the haggard fence around the ring, leaning on it and eyeing him with interest. Sweat clung to her skin and her cheeks were flush. Strands of hair had escaped her braid and hung about her face.

"What?" Jacob asked, leaning on the fence, opposite her.

"Want to go a few rounds?" She grinned, still a little out of breath.

Jacob watched her fingers flex and close, gripping the fence.

"Oh no, I've far too much sense for that, sister." He shook his head, slowly. "Not when you're in this mood."

Evie smiled slightly, in reply.

Behind her, the other wounded fighters were starting to struggle up and out of the ring. Some were familiar, and managed a wave, or a respectful nod as they left. But the last guy, the dockworker, he looked…decidedly upset.

"Fuck this, you! Bitch!" The bull of a man snarled, getting up and stretching his arms. "You cheated!"

Evie scoffed, turning and leaning her back against the fence.

"You hit like a girl." She said, calmly.

"Well, let's work on that." The docker growled.

He roared and charged. Evie lifted herself up onto the fence. Jacob grabbed her hips and lifted, allowing her to get her feet on the fence and she stepped aside quickly. The docker struggled to stop, coming face to face with Jacob.

"Hello, chap." Jacob smiled. He removed his hat and headbutted the docker, hard.

The docker stumbled back, clutching his head and groaning. Evie stepped carefully along the fence until she was in front of him. Evie lashed out with her leg, striking him in the face with her boot. Jacob heard something snap.

"You bloody idiot." He shook his head, wincing, as he put his hat back on and leant on the fence again.

"Urnnggh." The man grumbled, spitting up mouthfuls of blood and glancing up at Evie. Finally with the amount of fear and awe she deserved, Jacob thought. "…'m sorry." He choked up another glob of spit and blood.

"Bit late for that, mate." Jacob grinned.

Evie put one foot on his shoulder and quickly, elegantly slipped down onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck and throwing herself backwards. The docker let out a strangled cry as he was wrenched through the air up and over Evie, who tucked into a ball and used the momentum to throw the poor bastard across the ring, into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of sawdust and debris.

The few fighters who hadn't yet left groaned in sympathy, offering a brief smattering of applause before retreating at last. That left just him and Evie now, and the beaten, unconscious docker.

Evie struggled up to her feet again, dusting herself off. Her thin shirt was a little worse for wear, now, torn in places, hanging off one shoulder. He found his eyes drawn to that pale, bare skin around her neck, down that shoulder to her arm.

Evie caught his eye and traced his gaze. She smirked slightly, as she approached the fence again.

"Something catch your eye, Jacob?" She vaulted the fence and he stepped back, catching her legs in his arms and carrying her backwards with him.

"Could say that." Jacob looked up at her. "You don't often show much skin."

"Outside the bedroom, you mean?" Her hands were on his shoulders and she leaned down sharply, pressing her lips to his. Tasted salty, gritty. Skin was chapped a bit. Like blood and sweat mingled.

He stumbled and preoccupied with Evie as he was, he fell backwards, dragging them both to the floor in a heap, and a cloud of dust.

"Clumsy sod." Evie coughed, swatting his shoulder and straddling his chest.

"What can I say, Evie?" Jacob coughed, laying back and placing his hands on her hips. "You know how to get my attention."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, then looked down at him. Evie's lip curled slightly, and she cocked one brow. Without warning, she plucked his hat from where it had fallen, beside his head and peered inside it.

"What are you doing?" Jacob asked, reaching for it, but she moved it out of reach and dug out a couple of notes.

"My cut, I think?" She smirked, stuffing them down her top and sticking his hat crookedly on her head. She leaned closer, defying him to take it back. Hat and money both.

He stared at her for a moment. The image of Evie, smiling confidently, half her face obscured by the hat too big for her at the same time endearing and…cute…as it was noticeably flirtatious.

"You are in a better mood." Jacob muttered.

"I think so." Evie tilted her head.

She suddenly got up, hauling him to his feet with her, and set about tidying the collar of his coat. He reached out and pushed the hat further back on her head, so he could see her face.

"Shall we go home, brother Jacob?" Evie asked, catching his eye, a familiar hunger plain behind them.

"I think we shall, sister Evie." He held out his arm, which she took, stopping only to gather her coat and equipment as they left.