whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[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.

I'm not missing a thing.

[Yes he is, just not a thing to do with spas. The kid leans forward, elbows on the table, green eyes narrowing to scrutinize the old man.]

What's it do for you?

[Surely a simple coconut sugar scrub can't be the secret to Lawrence Dimick's body looking the way it does at nearly fifty years old.]

Whatever you say pal.

[Leaning closer. The old man pretends not to notice or care, no big deal with proximity. He crushes the smoldering butt of his Chesterfield onto his plate.]

Makes your skin feel great for about a week. Really relaxes you like you smoked a hell of a joint and then napped for a day. Sure helps that it smells good.

No face mask?

[Teehee. He can't help himself. Knowing the old man's gone up to the roof of their building for some alone sunning time the very image is too much to pass up.]

Nah. No face mask. Just a cream of some kind. I dunno. It's been awhile.

[Laughter at his expense or not is laughter. A busboy is coming around to take the unwanted plates. That doesn't disrupt the moment but it sure does bring about that the meal is over.]

These days if I want a massage I keep budget.

[Right now not at all. No flappy hands to rub him down.]

I guess you ain't got a reason to go in again so soon.

[Yes Lawrence Dimick that's a compliment for you. He notices the busboy clearing away the area but Freddy makes little to no reaction to it. They'll leave when they want to leave. Besides, he might partake in some dessert if this conversation stays happily afloat.]

A massage is no sugar scrub. A massage isn't tanning either.

[How's that for a gentle good-hearted metaphorical ribbing? The kind they could do so naturally before Freddy found...drove...imagined a wedge between them.]

[He's got a few reasons. And not all of em are because of the activity in his wallet. It's about feeling up to it. Larry could certainly blow quite a bit of his money trying to rehabilitate his spirits. So far though the most dramatic effects for the positive or negative have come from the man across the table. Should it be like that at all though?

His coke is getting slowly drained.]

Nah. It's all under the whole umbrella of personal care.

[He shrugs. Dessert does sound good about now. They've let their food digest and allowed for pleasant talk. And...not so pleasant in patches.

Hard to say what is exactly between them. Care couldn't properly wrap around it, love burns too much to the touch. Larry would want to curl up and die if the label of friendship alone was put on this. It feels too great in Larry, like all reactions Freddy evokes.]

Well you're the expert.

[Freddy concludes with a mock professional tone that's still all in good fun because Larry kind of is the expert when it comes to that stuff. He taught the kid the classic art of shaving even though Freddy still resorts to a basic razor most of the time. There are a lot of things, whether or not he put them to use, he still retains just from knowing Lawrence Dimick, from learning from him. Fuck.]

...You thinking about dessert?

[Not a trick question at all except there is an underlying motive that wants more time with the old man without having to express he's going to have dessert just to have more time instead of wanting dessert and conveniently receiving more time in return. How cowardly.]

Trial and error.

[Along with so, so much time to see what works and what doesn't. At least for himself. In his lifetime he hasn't been in the practice of using sunblock all that much, he's still smoking and still drinking even with a rather smooth shaven jaw. They have shared quite a bit. Freddy's treated him to so much mind candy movies and interesting culinary trials. No one else here can do that, he's sure of it.

When you've set your teeth to a flavor, nothing else will work. That's been his place for these long days apart.]

Yeah. I think I could go for something. Hopefully no one is putting gold in it.

[Don't fucking wag, Newendyke, don't fucking wag.]

I saw pie and ice cream. You wanna go first?

Nah. You go first. I can wait.

[So he can calm a bit. At first it was uncomfortable now it is feeling too comfortable. Too comfortable doesn't mean they're gonna trip on home together like nothing has happened. Boy, does he wish it would though. Larry sits tight in the booth.

They can't talk about personal hygiene forever.]

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