whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[I'll kill him, I'll fucking kill him is what Larry wants to say. That is not going to do them any good at all. Get to the apartment for now, being out in the open air doesn't feel safe. It's the panic.

Fucking shit. That could be all he wants. Like some goddamn snot nosed kid he wants to tie tin cans to a cat's tail because he bloody well can.]

Who's the girl?

[And why was she worth talking about?]

I don't know but she's got a sweet tooth. He had a bag full of sugar shit.

[Shit a Newendyke would eat, really, but not Mr. Blonde. That would just make Freddy feel worse, knowing the guy has the same palate as himself. That would be fucking cruel. He's wondering the same thing too, if Blonde just wants to see him sweat but if he's the guy who went crazy in the shop, in the warehouse, then he doubts tying tin cans to his tail is where he'll stop. Not if he's already been shot back home. Who can tell though?]

I couldn't tell, you know? If he's... [Dead. Alive. Something.]

[It starts with tin cans before it's a stone to the head. Well, back in the day anyway. They give the kid's bb guns.]

You woulda if you could touch him. At least that's what they say.

[Perish the motherfucking thought. Mr. White puts a hand at Freddy's back as they near crossing at the intersection just as he had when they were making a run for it. There aren't any dead cops in their wake here.]

So he's got himself a girlfriend that might be a hostage or accomplice.

[Both are. Delightful.]

I don't want to touch him. [Freddy says almost too quickly, defensively.] Yeah. Somethin' like that.

[The kid affirms without any real sense of confidence. That guy sort of stole it, like all Blonde had to do was breathe in the air around him to make Freddy sweat. He held his own pretty well, all things considered, but he's still a little shaken up from the experience.]

Hey. [From back to shoulder and holding on tight.] I know. [He wouldn't want Freddy to. Not if he doesn't have to and certainly if that fucker isn't unconscious.

Their apartment is just ahead. Sooner in, the sooner they can get a drink.]

You did good.

[Sticking his ground, waiting until it was safe to get the old man around. That's worth repeating.]

[He doesn't edge away from those touches. Really those touches are a goddamn godsend.]

Thanks...

[Freddy says because he's not sure how else to respond to that. He wishes he could have done better for both of them, somehow.]

[Rubbing, touching, squeezing because he feels like that's all he can do before they get home.

They should roll a blunt too.]

It's true.

[It didn't end in a shoot out. See, in someways that makes Blonde a lesser because for all his cool and calm, he still shot up a whole goddamn place because something in him went off the rocker. Well, he wasn't on it to begin with.

Getting a clear cut positive right now outside of they're unharmed is kinda hard to find.

Okay. They've made it safe to their building.]

[Once they're inside the building he nudges the old man.]

Larry.

[Take the bag. No really, take the bag Dimick, because this kid is quickly going to find his way into a semi-secluded corner to lose the most recent snack he had.]

[Bag in his hand now. He's got to let Freddy slip from his grip.]

Jesus Christ.

[Spoken softly. Larry clears his throat and keeps some distance. Give the poor guy some air.]

Let it all out.

[There's not much to spill out. No meal. It's just whatever he had to drink and a couple donuts. The kid coughs and heaves, bent over and holding onto a corner, the wall, whatever he can that'll keep him from giving in and settling on his knees. He won't give Blonde that satisfaction, nevermind how the bastard wouldn't know. It's a confidence thing. Cough cough.]

Shit man...

[He's so glad for the distance, the air, yet Lawrence Dimick is still just an arm away and that's comforting too.]

[The old man can't be away long. Freddy needs him. And he's not sure if keeping his head down like that is gonna help him feel better, all that blood rushing thataway. He keeps the groceries in the other hand while he paws on the man to help him be upright. Larry will drag him to the apartment if he has to.]

We can stop whenever you need to.

[In their apartment. Hey. They pay the cleaning staff for a reason. Why else would they pay so fucking much for rent?]

[Just wiping his mouth now...yeah don't even look at him if your name ain't Mr. White. The smaller one will just look right back with a colder stare, nothing super cool about it. Just super frigid. Only Larry gets to see him so fucking vulnerable.]

I'm fine.

[Freddy insists, more so with regards to his physical health than his emotional health. He's able to walk the rest of the way with Lawrence Dimick, up into an empty elevator because he doesn't want to take the stairs.]

I fuckin' let'im scare me. [He argues, green eyes looking bright at brown ones.]

[One hot, blazing stare with that cold one. Anybody so much as gives the kid even a portion of bullshit is gonna get more than their fair share of trouble from two angry fists. They better be grateful that it won't be two guns.]

Kid, you were blindsided. [Damn lucky it was out in the open.] You didn't know what to expect.

[Elevator it is. And hopefully for a smooth ride on up.]

We knew he was around. What the fuck do we do if he just...just shows up again?

[This is not the conversation to be having in the elevator but Freddy can't help it. He can't even reach for his smokes without shaking.]

Yeah. We did. Where we live crazy shit happens about every day, that don't mean we can't be taken aback by it or still have a hard time going about normal.

[Technically though, Blonde is their normal reality. That is the world they've come from. Larry keeps a close watch on Freddy trying to gauge where he is.]

We gotta act easy goin' we dunno shit yet.

[He licks his lips. He's been hesitant to even talk like this but now that it's in the realm of possibility, they cant' take too many chances.]

....somehow we can try and arrage that the both of us are never alone.

[Not quite a body guard but...an escort?]

That doesn't happen every day.

[He waves a hand harshly even though there's not Blonde (that) to point at. Freddy shakes his head, temper rising then falling. It's not Larry's fault, Larry just happens to be the closest living target.]

And how the fuck do you think we'll manage?

[Never being alone. It sounds impossible. More than that it sounds downright uncomfortable. The kid doesn't want to have to rearrange their lives for that motherfucker. He doesn't deserve that power. Ding! Their floor.]

[Walking off he tries to focus on the relief that they're almost there. Then they can really name names and give details. Except details to what? A plan? The old man is feeling severely lacking. He is supposed to have something up his sleeve.]

The fucking best we can.

[That's all that they have. He's digging for the key.]

[He's making a face that shows he's not really buying what the old man is saying. The fucking best we can? That's it? No. That's not it. But he waits, he waits and waits and waits until they've got the door open so he can push their way inside. Shut it. Lock it up. Be safe.]

Shit we don't even know if he has a game!

[Okay what's the point of waiting to be inside if you're just going to be irate and loud inside, Newendyke?]

[Shut. Locked. Deadbolted for that matter.]

If he does, I'd say it'd be to shake us up and get us all worked up and nutso.

[Wouldn't be too far off. Ahem. He's got the bags so he'll go to the kitchen to at least put them on the counter. And prep a drink. This calls for Jack Daniel's on the rocks.]

He woulda tried something.

[Ice and drink in two glasses.]

He had you right there, right?

[The kid wants to knock a fucking table over and break a window so he keeps his hands curled in tight fists, held close to his sides. Shit don't freak out, Newendyke, just be cool. Be cool like Mr. White. Turn around and sit down in the kitchen.]

...

[Fuck he knocks a side table over, taking the magazines and figures and whatever else was on it down to the floor. Nothing breaks, that's the good news. Then Freddy turns around to lumber back into the kitchen, right into a bear's arms whether they're open or not.]

He did, Larry. He had me right there.

[And he could have taken the kid out so easily. It could have gone so wrong so fast.]

[Arms are open and hands are empty because he abandoned the drinks in the kitchen at the noise. Way to cut right on through his cool head. Irrationally he thought someone else was in the house. Just the kid working out an encounter with a fucking psycho. Freddy doesn't even need to ask. Bigger, tanner arms hold onto him.]

What'd he do then? Nothin'. Not a goddamn thing.

[That cop he tied on up and cut off his ear. That wasn't even the start of it. He held him at gunpoint and threw him in a trunk. That cop was someone he didn't even know who didn't do nothing to him. Larry swallows. All these grim thoughts have to process.]

Not a goddamn thing, Larry. Not a goddamn thing...

[He huffs into that bigger broader shoulder, dry but needing his warmth, his presence. Lawrence Dimick is just one big fucking relief to Freddy Newendyke. He rubs his stately nose against him and wiry arms circle the old man tightly.]

[Broad Dimick snout noses his hair. Breathe, just fucking breathe. His heart was beating a mile a minute the whole way to the address Freddy gave. He didn't know what he was walking in to. They're alive. They're here.]

We gotta play the game if we wanna win.

[Keep on rolling with whatever stupid whimsy that Blonde is going to take on, buying candy for some chick at the local market. Fuck. Local. They may have to go to others. Pffft. Save that kind of over thinking for when they've cold down.]

Got you a drink, baby.

[When he's ready for it. Larry's not gonna let go first.]

Might calm your nerves.

[Give him something to focus on while the old man pulls out their stash.]

I know, man. [Freddy just wishes it didn't have to be this way.] I blew that son of a bitch away, Larry. He's fuckin' dead.

[Or he will be if Blonde tries to lay a hand on him or White. The way that bastard said his name...fuck if he thinks he can dick them around like that. Freddy'll shoot him full of lead all over again. As for the drink, well, the kid nods...at least three times before letting go. Fair warning, Lawrence Dimick, he's going to drain the glass in seconds.]

Thanks.

[Bottom's up.]

[Larry wishes that they could go back to playing like everything is fine with just the two of them alone. They got their own damn problems. What if something sparks while Blonde is on the scene? Worrying, worrying, enough of that shit.]

Hey, there's more where that came from if you wanna start on mine.

[Because it would seem that it's not going to just be booze to calm him down. Larry turns to the living room. The table is overturned still. That...will just be fixed later. The dope is stashed with the records. Perfect match most of the time. Back he comes with their little green bag.]

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