whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Saya is calmly arranging things - very calmly - and waiting for her visitor in the Warehouse.]

[He's coming on foot. Larry finishes up his cigarette outside. He opted to bring a box of chocolates for the lady. And they weren't cheap. One deep inhale and he lets it fall to the sidewalk. The man crushes it under his nicely polished shoe.

The man made it a point to look nice but not too nice. This is Freddy's boss. She probably wants company. That's it. And he's coming for company. That's it. To the door he goes to give a knock.]

[She opens the door and smiles up at him; even wearing her characteristic heels, he's taller than she is, although not by much]

Come in.

[Heels lengthen legs. And she sure has legs. Except Larry's not gonna stare at them. He smiles at her.]

Good evening.

[Legs shown off by an extremely short skirt, no less. She moves away from the door, her heels clicking on the cement floor]

I hope you're well.

[Ain't it kind of chilly to be wearing that in this weather? Larry himself has a coat that he's shrugging off.]

I am. Bumpy week, s'all over now. Yourself?

[The warehouse is like a play land of motorcars. It works best to keep his kind of company.]

[It is outside, but Saya keeps the inhabited portions of the warehouse warm and toasty]

Fine. I'm glad you could come.

[Not precisely true, but true enough. She reaches into a rumbling refrigerator and pulls out a beer for him and a bottle of something for herself]

[Oh, so it isn't just Larry? Okay.]

We haven't had a talk in awhile. Shit. I feel a little bad after you've been shot any ol' joker can poke around. In fact we don't live too far apart. You ever get any trouble like that, you can call.

[Beer? He smiles.]

You're swell. I brought you a little somethin'. [He sets the box of chocolates on the table. And no, it isn't shaped like a heart.]

It's just a scar, now. I healed up quite well.

[She opens the box and tilts her eyes his way]

Thank you.

Where did you take a hit? If I can ask.

[She said it was from an ugly woman. But can she shoot? That is another question.]

You're welcome. Least I could do. [He lifts the beer in a cheers before cracking it open.]

[Saya matter of factly moves the shoulder of her blouse aside, showing her bra strap and a rounded, faint scar against her shoulder. Then she takes his free hand and places a finger just against it]

There.

[Larry looks up anticipating a verbal answer. Oh, not so much. That's a decent scar. It doesn't belong on no lady. Especially when she's not packing...arms...that way.]

Ones like that. They're nasty.

I hope it will fade more. What do you think?

I'm sure it will. They make lotion for that I hear.

[He hopes to clean his palate and clear his mind with a sip of the beer. Oh, damn.]

This is good stuff.

I'll look into it.

[She laughs a little]

Is it? I don't often drink beer, I'm glad I chose something interesting.

Not all beer is bad. Though it does have quite a reputation. Have a bit if you want. I mean, if anything know what good beer tastes like.

[To be fair. Is that forward? Perhaps. Larry leans on the counter top.]

So. What's this about, Saya? Is your employee giving you trouble?

[She takes the bottle from him, and takes a sip. It's bitter and rich and not terrible, but Saya doesn't really partake in anything that isn't the salty, heady, irony rush of blood.]

Now, do you think I wouldn't handle something like that on my own?

[Lady doesn't make a face. See. Proof right there. He takes back his drink.]

I think I could.

[Wine is wine. Though he already knows she is not the two buck chuck sort.]

If I may.

[He reaches out to take her glass.]

[She pushes her wine his way - it's definitely something that came corked and aged, with topnotes and the like]

Try it.

[Beer down. Here, he'll even give her something of a show. Watch this. Larry takes her glass, swishes the wine around. A sniff. Then a sip.]

Mmmm.

[Swallow, because there's no way he's spitting it out.]

That is good.

[Her smile widens a bit]

You're not lying to me, are you?

Why would I do that?

[The wine is returned to her again.]

I get an expensive piece now and then. Not my favorite but tastes great next to a thirty dollar steak.

Men lie to me for all kinds of reasons.

It's the tannins, against the iron. I think.

Men lie to anyone for many reasons. I don't think a difference of taste is worth spinning a yarn about.

[Though it's troubling that someone would.]

I think they could have used cherries.

No? Some men think it's an easier way to make me like them. To flatter my tastes.

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;

We pay a price for all our choices made;