But I ain't no madman.

[whitetwoguns]

"Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a nice day."

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[orangetoughguy]

I've already got the address up in here.

[He taps the side of his head to indicate his memory. Freddy's considered going to their favorite taco place too but he can't stand the idea of having to field questions as to why he's there alone. Those people know a lot more about them than they let on and the kid knows it. It's part of what made the place so cool. Fuck.]

Thanks for showin' me.

[He gives Larry a quick glance, honest but brief.]

[whitetwoguns]

Good.

[He's shifting in his booth seat. As comfortable as it is to be at the booth, in the same breathing space, he knows that it would be best to get a move on now. One flub is enough. The second could result in World War III.]

Just don't close the place out.

[Deadpan as though he believes it is in the realm of possibility. Ironclad guts and hollow legs would make it happen.]

You're welcome.

[Sifting through his wallet provides a distraction. He will pay his share. It feels so alien.]

[orangetoughguy]

No way, I got self-control.

[Freddy counters and no it's not a knock against any flub that may or may not have transpired, but the kid doesn't clarify either. He's got his own wallet out to throw in his share. Yes, it feels weird on his end too, but what can he do about it that doesn't involve just rushing right back into Larry's arms like nothing fucking happened?]

Maybe I'll find a way to surprise you next time.

[The kid suggests. About food. Just food....]

[whitetwoguns]

[Self-control? Maybe. Larry has no words for that so he smiles just a little bit.]

You're welcome to try. I've been to plenty of establishments around here.

[With the kid. Without the kid. He's an eater, no kind of still slim. It has a trim desert fit that hasn't gone away just yet. Almost.]

You'll know where to find me if a place comes up.

[This is it. This is the see you later, near about goodbye. The old man misses him already.]

[orangetoughguy]

[He hasn't seen that trim desert fit form in over a week. How the fuck is Freddy supposed to live? Shit Newendyke that's exactly the kind of thinking that's going to keep things the way they are when you want some kind of change. Something he can't even define neatly for himself.]

I got your number.

[Freddy finally manages a natural smile, small sure, but large in its sincerity. He's up on his feet now, ready for the inevitable goodbye. No no, not goodbye. Don't say goodbye.]

Have a goodnight, okay?

[whitetwoguns]

I got yours.

[With one mailing address besides that. To his credit he doesn't sigh. Larry reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. That is the maximum of masculine touching. Last time was a kiss. You can't always get so lucky. Last time also had far more talking about where they stand, about feelings.]

You too, have a good one.

[Maybe alone.]

[orangetoughguy]

Thanks...

[Funny how they think on the same wavelength but translate the thought to words in different languages. The kid returns the pat to the old man's patting hand. No kiss, not here where people can see them, not because Freddy's ashamed but because that gesture is too special to share at a buffet. Especially when they won't be going home in the same direction.]

I'll see you around.