whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Before lunch he already broke up a two fights. A pair was usually the best of chums. Lunch was when he could head on home. On the street he watched a woman drive up on the sidewalk to make a turn before everybody else. Curse day. Right.

Where is that kid? Device out and have a ring-a-ding-ding.]

What's up.

[Pong pong pong pong pong. That's going on in the background of your call, Lawrence Dimick, and no Freddy hasn't been oblivious to how the old man's been all day. He just hasn't got a clue as to what it is that's eating the guy.]

I'm done for the day.

[For work at least. He hasn't been undone enough to want to call it a day. Boy. Would be nice to do so though. Nope. Get a grip on things, Dimick. It is all normal shit all around. And it is very different in his own circumstances. Saying that on repeat does have a slow loss of truth.]

...where are you?

[The old man would like to believe that he's not completely transparent. You let someone into your bed and your life they catch on.]

I found another arcade.

[It's one of the few games he can handle with one good arm and one healing one. Normally that would mean Mr. White might not see him for another hour or two but today...]

Want me to come get you or are you gonna come get me?

Another?

[That's how many?]

I can head your way.

[Though going home would be terrific. Looks like that isn't an option. From the way the conversation is going it would be pretty obvious if he suggested a third option.]

[Don't fret, old man, this kid is one half-step ahead of you.]

We could meet up at home. I'm finished up here. [Of course he'll leave the ball in Larry's court.]

[Far too used to playing chess with one another. Well played, Newendyke.]

Yeah. That works. I'll see you there.

[A bit more time. A bit more fresh air. Walking around like this though, he has to wonder if this is what Freddy sees. It's not about being a cop or really a matter of right and wrong, it's about restraint.

Lawrence Dimick's got that.]

[To Freddy Newendyke right now it's about taking care of his close(r than close) friend and getting to the bottom of his behavior because they're supposed to tell each other things. Moreso than before anyway. It doesn't take long for Orange to get home either, he was nearer to the resident, quite possibly wanting to be present as soon as Larry got out or at the shortest distance to come back if the old man called from home first. Planned? Possibly. An arcade's always more fun than a game system anyway.]

[Lumbering like a bear of sorts he hustles his way in. All according to a cunning plan, he gets there second. Whoops. Well. The walk was his alone time.]

That was fast.

[And it's not a complaint! Observation!]

I wasn't far.

[Never said he wouldn't own up to a little of his own plans but that also depends on whether or not Larry thinks it's a coincidence. Freddy sure ain't telling. He pokes his head up from the couch now. The TV's on showing something called Captain Planet.]

Good day? Bad day?

[Cartoons. That's what these old eyes see.]

Kinda both.

[See? No hiding. Not really. He lumbers on over to the couch to lean in for a proper greeting.]

Stupid day out.

[Because Freddy has no doubt noticed. For a moment he thinks to say something about the kids in the arcade. Best not for right now.]

[A proper greeting like a kiss on the mouth right? Better hope that's right because that's what Freddy's leaning up to do. A quick mouth to mouth press, nothing more.]

What happened? New guys tryin' to sweep the house again?

[Standard funny stuff going on at the casino. It's more just the kid's way of telling him he can say whatever he wants to say.]

[Exactly right. When his man is leaning on up, he gets himself a press of the mouth.]

No, boy oh boy that'd be the last fucking thing I'd want.

[Plop right on down on the couch. His eyes aren't on the animated figures on their screen.]

I've just been seeing too many people do stupid things. Cutting people off, shoving guns in their face. Dumb, ridiculous shit like that.

[Which really has no reason or connection to him directly. Huff. As he is getting comfortable he lifts an arm and tilts in a way that's inviting a little more coziness.]

[It's not that great of a cartoon anyway, even though--the kid gestures at the screen.]

Sting's in it.

[Yes, that Sting. Yes, this cartoon. Anyway Freddy turns to give Larry his full attention, scooting closer under his heavy arm.] How's all that different from any other day?

[That derails his train of thought. Look, now he is trying to see as if he can really see the singer in the TV. Nope. Freddy for you.]

Any good?

[Asking someone who had an eye for that sort of thing.]

I got to thinking.

[That's a way to start. A better one than asking if Mr. Orange remembers sitting in their car going through the heist. Of course Freddy remembers. They went for tacos after.]

I told you about cutting off fingers and shit. Well. I only done that just a few times.

It's weird. [Captain Planet is anyway, but that diversion doesn't last long. Green eyes go on back to brown ones.]

Yeah, I remember that.

[Freddy nods, brow furrowing only slightly because he's unsure how he should feel that this is what's been bothering Larry today. Cutting off fingers seems like a different league from killing cops, shooting your good friend, and all the other things he knows (has seen) Larry's done.] Why? I mean, why'd you get to thinkin'?

I didn't do anything like that today.

[Put that right up on the table just in case. There are no fingers in his pocket or strange love tokens like that. Larry learned his lesson with Amory. He rubs a paw over his forehead.]

Cutting off fingers was for a reason, kid. For getting a main goal for a very distinct purpose. [Who is he trying to talk to, Freddy or himself?] It's just just to get what I want when it's simple. Seeing everybody go overboard.

[Salt and peppered brown hair shakes with his head. He hasn't touched it up. He is trying to refrain. Trying.]

[What a fucking relief that is, as if Freddy doubted it for a second. See, the old man would be acting differently if there was guilt and blood on his hands. He knows what Larry's like, enough to figure that out anyway. You live with a guy long enough you just do.]

Okay.

[But is he talking to Freddy or himself? Orange didn't say the words but the way he approached the situation and his demeanor now say: I'm listening. Maybe that's what White needs, someone to talk to about himself because Freddy's no fool. Cops know this kind of thing. Larry doesn't think he's a fool because he's a cop, right?]

You see anything like that happen today? [He asks, reaching up with his good arm to rub freckled fingers into his peppered hair. He wouldn't mind it if the old man wanted to touch up, honest.]

[He leans right on into that touch.]

Almost. These two guys, older men they always sit right on by one another and play the slots or tables. Today one of em decided they wanted the whole pot win or lose. I had to help find somebody's finger and stick it on in some ice. I think that the guy will be bale to get it back on. Just a pinky finger. There were some fresh Margaritas being whipped up so there was ice.

[The rest has a shrug. Some other set of listening ears and an understanding mind behind feels pretty damn nice. Can't he talk to himself and Freddy at the same time?]

They were playing against each other, there wasn't even thirty dollars right there. All the chump change was stacked all up nice and appetizing.

Holy shit man, for real? That's fuckin' crazy.

[Even for this city where the weirdness is high but actual aggressive person on person violence of that nature seems low, at least in a public setting. He knows what goes on in the underground, for whatever reason it seems like this world keeps the two very very separated.]

That guy owes you one. Well both of'em if one of'em coulda lost his head without you.

[Freddy points at Larry. Keeping it supercool for now.]

Maybe they'd already had a run in and that was the last straw? I dunno.

[Sure was crazy. And seeing all the blood on the table, watching the fella squirm around. It wasn't like the cops were steps away from arriving. What was at stake really?]

As long a he keeps his finger in a time like that.

[He'd feel beaming with pride if he wasn't floating on the low end of the mood pool.]

And some guys are just assholes, they're fuckin' askin' for it.

[Freddy shrugs like it ain't no thing. Larry probably knows better, for all that big man tough guy talk Freddy can think of very very few instances in which he'd look the other way while a guy's relieved of his finger for a vengeful reason. Looks like that kind of talk isn't really helping the old man much anyway.]

What's wrong, Larry?

[Time for the direct green eyed approach. You can talk to me. And part of Freddy really wants to know without having to carve it out of him.]

[Where are you going with this, Dimmy? Freddy Newendyke is never going to stop being a cop which means that he will likely never be able to say that it will be fine to cut off people's fingers. There are those handsome eyes that sooth as well as beg for the bullshit to get cut in two.]

On the outside watching a fella saw his buddy with a butter knife kinda made me think about when I pull that sort of shit. It isn't all the time, and it isn't to do it. I ain't no maniac. It's not about cutting into anybody...

[Brutalizing to get what he wants. How is that different really...]

I know, Larry.

[Lawrence Dimick shot those cops to help them get away. He didn't cut off a cop's ear just because he could. Hell he didn't do much more than punch that same fucking cop a couple times. He's no mad man.]

I've seen guys like that. I know guys like that, and that ain't you.

[Freddy knows Larry has a line but the truth is he'd be hardpressed to give a damn if the old man rearranged the entire bone structure of another man who thought it would be fun to torture a cop. That ought to make the kid no better, really.]

Kinda [downplaying] kinda bugs me you know? Nothing's a walk in the park or simple but when everyday people act like that... seems like there's no difference.

[Seems. Here he is right now on their couch. He doesn't look like a killer. What killers do? Larry rubs his own forehead.]

How many guys you know that're like me?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject