whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

Did your friend say it helped any?

[As he settles on back into the seat and into the conversation. He takes a drink of the coke to cut any trace of bitterness that might try to be up in his mouth.]

That's what's important.

Naw, too early to tell you know?

[Freddy shakes his head. His plate of food is getting emptier and emptier and his ability to have a conversation that doesn't somehow lead back to them is getting less and less.]

I see.

[Larry's own plate is pretty picked over. He focuses on his drink. There is still room in his stomach for dessert, he's not sure if it would be right to stick around for it. Their time together, while enjoyable, is starting to show wear and tear. It's meant to be light and short.]

Well. You've given him a good idea. I think that's something you can be proud of.

[Sip. Fuck it. He'll smoke in here too.]

Let's see how it all turns out first.

[Freddy can't help but smile a little here because it is kind of funny. It's sour faced Raymond Leon and fucking Leonard McCoy. It doesn't get crazier than that in this world, well maybe except for Captain America and Bucky. Who's Tony Stark bedding these days?]

I want you to do stuff too.... [The kid's trying to approach a different angle of conversation now.]

Do stuff? Like what?

[Stuff is a concealing word. Larry turns his head and exhales that Chesterfield smoke out of anybody else's way in the booth.]

I don't know anybody who's gonna have me as their mentor these days.

[Following him around or having the old man follow him around.]

Lots of stuff.

[Go and see people, except Freddy doesn't have the balls to tell him that, to doubt the old man's certainty in loving a stupid kid like him. Freddy shakes his head.]

I don't believe that at all. You're smart, patient, you got a way of talking... [Stop before you gush, Newendyke. Now it's his turn to take out a smoke.]

I am.

[Sort of. He's trying to not be in a rut. The other day he went shooting with Eames. That was an on the fly sort of outing. He should do more. It's so hard to meet people when you're older. People call you grandpa. Larry keeps buttoned up. That's all cop out bullshit. As many brushes with death as he's had he's not gonna waste living holed up in the motel room even though that might help him feel better now and then for a few moments.]

Guys like you are gonna put me out of commission.

[It's said with a short laugh because it is a joke. Really though, what else could the kid mean? This is the sort of dance they've been going on at. This was the talk that they tried to have before everything went to pieces.]

What's that supposed to mean?

[Sorry the kid can't help but ask regardless that he can tell it's meant to be a joke. It's a way of carrying on the conversation, a way of turning the tables on each other because it's okay to do. Hell sometimes it's fun. When did it stop being fun? Ah, right, when Freddy realized how serious it had become and suddenly being fun turned into being scared.]

You being easy, approachable. You're the godfather here.

[Shrug. And ain't that the truth though? For a moment he thinks that Freddy's playing dumb but he knows. He has to. Putting this conversation to bed, what more will they have?

Will they start arguing gain?]

Are you gonna ask for favors in return? Get some sort of a payment out? I mean, why not.

No.

[Close to home, ain't it? He already got a favor out of Raymond so to speak, even before helping the guy out with a more genuine object of his affection.]

I'm not that kind of godfather...

[Yep. Feels like the end of the line. Why can't they talk? Why can't they be friends despite everything else? Maybe it's unfair of Freddy to enforce that desire on Lawrence Dimick.]

[That is a nerve. Cigarette out of his mouth he licks his lips.]

Hey. I didn't mean anything by it.

[His voice drops to a softer tone, no sign of making fun here.]

Just talking.

[Like they used to. Man oh man. Larry takes another puff before he says something like I miss you.]

[Huff. Puff.] ...I know. I'm sorry.

[Freddy nods, insisting upon sincerity because he does feel bad for becoming defensive. He feels bad he can't do what he sought out to do, to be separated yet still friends, still acquainted. Maybe it's true what they say, amicable break ups are the exception to the rule. Are they broken up? For real? Or just being stupid and denying everything?]

Don't be, man. I too it wrong, anyways. I don't know why you're sayin' you're sorry.

[Hearing him say something that at all helps patch up a leaky space in his heart somewhere. That's not what he meant, Dimick. And that's not what he's gonna mean. They haven't gone much further than that talk in the square. In fact, Freddy still stood his ground. It's what he wants. Bristling in return for him being himself, talking like he should is proof the old man needs to spend more time cooling out and thinking.]

Say, how's the shoulder?

Better. I still wake up a little sore but I have a lot of movement in it now.

[He rotates his arm to show the old man. This is way easier to talk about than taking things the wrong way and telling him he's sorry anyway and expressing how much he misses Larry even though this is something Freddy insisted they need and god why is it so messed up? With the damage done can Freddy even hope to have things go back to the way they were.]

Yeah? Good. You get it massaged steadily too? That would help.

[Not offering to takes about all the effort he has. Smooth, old man.]

I can't think of any places but uh you should give it a try.

[Going for massages on your own is something, ain't it?]

Naw, not really. I get up, go to work, come back to a hot shower. I rub it myself sometimes but after a while I don't bother anymore.

[Because there's no one else he can fathom doing it except for a pair of large professional paws poised across the table. Oh fuck.] An oriental place?

[It just comes right out without any real rational thought because that's exactly what his mind turns to when Lawrence Dimick talks about massages.]

Soon it'll be nothing. That's good.

[Time healing all wounds like it is supposed to. They both could stand to take a page from that mentality. Except that would require a willingness. Healing can lead to forgetting.

His lungs fill with smoke to the brim once more before slowly letting it all out.]

Heh. Yeah. You read my mind. Those places are cheaper.

[Mr. Orange knows too much about him.]

As long as I don't take a tumble down a hill yeah.

[Freddy smiles in a way that suggests he is taking care of himself, avoiding hills and other potential hazards that could pop it back out. They say once it's been dislocated it's far too easy to happen again. Freddy doesn't want it to happen again.]

I don't know some of those girls are a little small, they walk up and down here it's like you don't even feel it.

[He's bullshitting now, having fun.]

Don't go to the mountains either.

[Why would he? No one is sick and in need of special water. Or he won't go to any cabin with anybody...would he? Larry taps his ash on his mostly empty plate.]

If they're so tiny, you could ask for two or three. Or maybe the guy that helps em clean up at night. There's always that.

Then I gotta tip like three or four fuckin' people, man.

[It doesn't even occur to Freddy to go to the mountains, especially without company like Lawrence Dimick. He's the one who took him up last time, not the special spring water trip the getting down and dirty by the fireplace one. Freddy sure hasn't forgotten that.]

The alternative is going to a spa. Now that's where you'll blow your money.

[He points his cigarette. Freddy, you're looking at a man who knows.]

You pay to stay, you pay for each sort of special rub down and what kinda butter or grease they're using. All that shit then tip. And there's no possible inclusion of a happy ending.

[....with the conversation being what it was, Lawrence Dimick had to go there.]

Naw man a spa's for girls.

[He says this with the awareness that Larry here may have gone to a spa or two during times of high rolling. Heh. Wait, he points his spent cigarette at the old man before setting it aside.]

You've been? [Right on the money.] What'd you get, a sea salt scrub? Milk and honey bath?

I ain't no girl.

[If anyone could give an accurate and full testimonial it would be Mr. Orange. He takes a sip of his coke. This assumption is like water on a duck's back.]

Why? Do you wanna know what to get when you decide to go?

No. I'm not going to a spa.

[Fffffff. Snort. Damn right he knows utterly and completely Mr. White is all man, a man who happens to go to spas from time to time. Heh heh heh.]

Maybe I don't believe you really went. [Who's going to outsmart who now.]

Well excuse me then. I know you're missing out.

[Now something about the whole give and take really does make him smirk.]

What's there not to believe?

[Really now, kid. Huff.]

Coconut sugar scrub if you gotta know.

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