Outfit with like a leather jacket idc
@Crypt
Cliff wasn't much of a Reignhart guy. He just sort of didn't fit here. Nothing against the area, it was nice, but he definitely belonged somewhere like Camp Baron. That said, he'd supplied plenty restaurants and businesses with various pieces. Benches, tables, mantle pieces, decorations, you name it. He'd always been offered food as part of his payment, so he'd tried a number of places on Brickley. His most favorite, and the place that kept him coming back, was this pizza place that did authentic Neapolitan pizzas. Just fucking fantastic. Worthy of both the drive and the money.
Cliff was on his way back to his truck with his piping hot box(es) of pizza when it happened. The worst thing that could happen to anyone, ever, probably. It wasn't dark enough for them to be on, but a lot of the trees in the area were wrapped with strings of tiwnkle lights year round. Somehow, a length of the lights had come loose, and were hanging down in a u-shape from one of the low branches. Maybe if he was a bit taller, it would have got him in the chest and he would have realized before anything insane happened. Of course, he wasn't looking up at where he was going, and the string of lights managed to catch him perfectly beneath the chin, clotheslining him unmercifully. He loosed a choked sound as his head jerked back, but his body kept moving forward. In surprise and pain, his grip on the boxes failed entirely, and they toppled unceremoniously onto the concrete as he made a panicked grab for the assailant around his throat.