whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[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.]

[Swallow. Swallow. Glass down.] I know.

[Another nod. His warming eyes follow Larry's path from kitchen to living room to records to--]

.....

[Really Lawrence Dimick? Really? Somehow that gesture of all things gets Freddy laughing. The kid never was one for poignant dynamic timing.]

[On the counter top. At first he's confused. Was it a bad idea? Laughing is good but is it too much? The old man's so quick to try and pacify the kid. It's easier to do when he ain't bleeding.]

Only 'cuz we don't got no ice cream.

[He smirks a bit at himself.]

Want a little one or a big ol' fat one?

[Because one way or the other it's gonna happen. Even if it may make it harder to get it up.]

[He's giving Larry a look that asks if he really even needs to ask. Seriously, Lawrence Dimick?]

A big old fat one.

[So they can share. Duh.] Pack it real tight.

[He's not trying to talk dirty, honest.]

The only way I know how.

[Innuendo or not. That's how you get the best out of it. He lays out the paper and then bunches the greenery. Shit, he's been doing it so long just another professional thing.]

Wanna put a movie on, baby?

[Or music. Something to have going so there's activity and other shit to think about, talk about. Seriously, Dimick. More running? That's what you do?]

I got more Jack Daniels. Plenty more where that came from.

[Two glasses. Overkill care, courtesy of the old man. Would Blonde have acted the way he did if he were there? They won't know. There'd be no knowing whatsoever at this point.

He rolls up their joint and licks the seam.]

Sure. Yeah...I'll put on a movie.

[He laughs again, softer this time, like he's trying to get something out of his system. What fucking use is it? Blonde's out and about but Blonde didn't kill him. What the hell does it really mean for their future? He knows Pink won't conspire against them without really really really good reason. The bitch Blonde's working for on the other hand...but Freddy's got Eames and he can trust Eames. Shit Newendyke don't let this motherfucker take over your fucking life. He pops in a movie without even truly thinking about it. It just seems right when they're hanging out together in a plush apartment with booze and bud.

Spoilers: it's gay porn.

Freddy comes on back to the kitchen and just waits for his roll while pouring some more JD.]

[Larry hears it before he knows what it is. Is this one of those with a vague plot? Not yet seeing the setting he's not sure. 'Can I take a look at that?' with some low grade audio equipment with a 'mmm that's pretty fine.'

Now who has the impulse to laugh.

He just shakes his head, smiling a little. Here, he'll burn off the end and take the first pull then it's offered to the kid. For a moment he doesn't say anything, breathing in the full flavor and strength.

Far better than a cigarette. If Freddy had been hurt, hell, even threatened they'd be doing something. Running. Retaliating. Look at where the fuck they are.]

Have I seen this one?

[After he finally breathes out. The smoke rolls and coils in the air. Outta anybody's face even though it smells pretty good.]

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