whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

So what's wrong.

[Look at this face, Larry Dimick, he's worried about you. Hands pried off don't stay off for long, they're just not clutching this time.]

[With a strained growl he sits up. Larry regrets the move but won't back down. He has his back flat against the back of the couch now.]

I told you. It's my back. It hurts.

[Louder now. He's no doctor himself but he at least knows what does and doesn't feel right in his own skin.]

Like It's twisted or got a kink in it or something. It was fine the other day.

[Whoa. Raising volume are we? Why? Seriously?]

Then roll over and let me take a fuckin' crack at it.

[Might be a challenge...]

It didn't feel good when you sat on me.

[Like that explains everything. Huff.]

Just... lemme be for a little while okay? Think it's kinda improving just laying there.

[Except he's not heading back down that way yet.]

[Huff....huff. Snort.]

Maybe you should go to a doctor, Larry.

Doctor? Why would I go see a doctor? I'm not bleeding.

[He tilts his head and furrows his brow at the notion of. And now he'll be heading back on down to the floor. Nice and slow. No rush. Inch by inch.]

[Watch how quickly he reaches over and around the couch for a pillow to slide under the old man's head.]

You don't gotta be bleedin' to be hurt, asshole.

It's not a doctor trip.

[What's with this pillow business. He looks at Freddy and is finally mostly eased on the floor.]

You're overreacting. It's nothing okay.

[Said the man laying on the floor feeling like an idiot enough as it is. Huff.]

If it stays the same for a week or two then I'll see what a doctor says.

If you don't go now you're goin' tomorrow.

[Freddy insists like that is fucking that. He'll even point at Larry to make his point.]

Jesus fucking Christ. It's my back, not yours.

[Head rubbing right now, like it's a sympathetic pain.]

Just stop, it okay. Its hard to do shit sometimes. It happens. Fuck, not like I never told you I had problems.

[Except it hadn't been bad like this in a long while.]

[Pointing again. At least he's still sitting on the floor next to him.]

You've never gone to the doctor for your damn back. Maybe it's time you did, Larry.

[Oh. Great. Now the guy is all worked up about it. Larry has good sense not to roll his eyes but he cannot mask his frustration in his tone.]

It's going to go away, okay. always does. Just one bad day. Fuck.

Bad enough I gotta come home to you lyin' on the floor. Bad enough you don't even want to fuck.

[Yes. Not wanting to fuck is one of the clearest indicators of something being not right for Freddy Newendyke.]

You just came home. I haven't even been here five minutes.

[Lie. A Mr. White lie. He doesn't want to be here laying on the floor, he doesn't want to turn down a chance to fuck around.]

Don't fucking put words in my mouth, okay? I do wanna fuck just--not right now. What's the rush? Gotta flight to catch?

You don't look like you've been there for only five minutes. [Freddy counters, arms folding across his chest now.] No, I thought we'd play another game. Maybe just me and you.

[Not trying to guilt trip or anything.]

[What is he like not fresh or something. Pft. Brown eyes look at him.]

We can. Just not now. Stop busting my balls. Fuck, it hurts. I just wanna be here awhile.

[It hurts. It makes him cranky. It makes him talk crankily.]

But you don't think it hurts enough to go to a doctor. I don't fuckin' get you. You won't even let me touch it.

[Make that two cranky men.]

I don't want you to sit on me. I didn't say don't touch me.

[Don't glare. Don't glare. Aughgugh. He tries at sitting up again. Not going so hot so he rolls onto his side.]

I'll suck you off if that's what you want so fucking bad.

No. I don't want it anymore.

[And isn't that a big indicator of Freddy's mood.] You act like it's no big deal but you're flippin' your fuckin' shit over it. You don't want to go to a doctor but you don't want to get up. Jesus which is it?

[Up and off the floor now to go to the kitchen for his smokes and maybe a beer.]

You're pissed like I can control how my goddamn body chooses to be.

[Working on getting up. Slowly. It doesn't feel pleasant. Maybe he'll sit. That could be something to try.]

I can't. You know that, right?

[Grunting, even though he's trying to keep it down.]

What's a doc gonna say? Yep. Don't look good. Take a shower. Relax. Something like that. I don't need to pay big money for that. You---you're the one all-all worked up about it.

[Sitting in his chair. That's it.]

Get over here and talk to me.

I didn't say that. I'm pissed cause you don't want me to help you, like I can't do anything for you.

[Waving his unopened beer at the old man...from the kitchen still. At least he's looking at Larry.]

[Looking is good and all but it's not listening. If he were listening the old man figures he would cut him some slack and already be sitting closer.]

You wanna give it a try? Fine.

[Because that really solves anything.]

Just don't sit on me.

[Which would require Freddy to come closer.]

[What? Put on the spot the kid has to admit he doesn't know a thing about fixing back problems. The point was that Larry wasn't even giving him a chance when he so desperately wants to believe he's all the old man needs. Now he's on the spot and Freddy doesn't think he can make the cut.]

Just go back to laying down. You can take care of yourself.

Wait? What the fuck?

[Grumbling he shoves off on the chair, toes pointed to the kitchen.]

You come in here, ready to jump my bones. Get pissed off that I tell you know. Flip your shit when I tell you I'm experiencing a set back then--[vague gesture.]

It don't happen all the time. Happens now and then, the last time it wasn't so bad.

[...because he wasn't one whole year and heist older. That thought hits him between the eyes. And aging, getting older has got nothing to do with Freddy. Oh God. Is that what he's thinking?]

I'm not no feeble old man.

I didn't say that either.

[That he's a feeble old man. But he just wanted to help, because one day he is going to be an old man and Freddy will still be a good twenty-something years younger.]

I didn't say you're a feeble old man.

[Freddy repeats, finally cracking his beer open.] Just forget about it, Larry.

But I ain't no madman.

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