Seeing that Harry is injured, but has the situation quite literally "in-hand," you make to duck back in so you can call the cops before the situation escalates. However, before you get the chance:
"There's another one, get him!"
A pair of the students break off from the group and head towards you. One, standing at 6'4" and about 200 pounds - a body-builder, this one, has his brown hair in a buzz cut. The other is about your height: 6' and average size; he sports a surfer's wavy hair. The big one moves quickly, despite his drunkeness, and grabs you from behind, locking your arms and legs. The surfer moves in and starts to throw hits clumsily. Unable to defend yourself of move, you have no choice but to just close your eyes as he beats you. He gets a strong blow to your solar plexus and you feel the wind go out of you, and you buckle over. Still supported by buzz cut, your head merely droops, and the next hit gets you clean in the temple. Your head goes fuzzy from the lack of air and the trauma, and you black out.
You awaken to the feeling of something cold on your face, and feel the world slowly come back into focus. Looking up, you see Jamie's face over you - you realize your head is in his lap, and he's pressing an ice-pad to your bruised temple.
"Hey, welcome back," he says, his voice somewhat wavering. "You were out for a bit there."
"Seemed like a good time for a nap," you reply. "What happened? Is Harry-"
Remembering Harry's state, you jolt up, but your head swims and you fall back into Jamie's lap.
"He's fine, though he's refusing to go to the hospital. The other guys are gone. I called the cops when you went out, and they showed up right away."
"One of the few perks of the owner being the sheriff's son, I suppose. So the creeps got away?"
"Unfortunately, but I think Harry told them what they looked like. I didn't even see them - they started to run the minute they heard sirens. Pussies."
Hearing this uncharacteristic remark from Jamie makes you laugh, but you wince as you do - you're going to be sore all over for a couple days, it seems. Jamie smiles and turns away, looking troubled. You take the chance to look up at him. He actually is a looker, though not the type you'd usually go for. He's got the rather fey facial features stereotypical of a bottom and he's slim, if maybe on the scrawny side. With his brown eyes and matching short hair, he has a fairly approachable look to him, though he often has a tendency to look off into the distance. He turns back to you, and you quickly shift so he won't catch you staring. As you turn, you feel something dig into your side. You reach into your pocket and dig the offending object out - the bottle from this morning.
Perfect, you think, just what I needed, some pain meds. You
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