[Freddy warns, absolutely certain Larry's trying to do the thing where he talks 'pleasantly' of clearly crooked cops. Sigh. Just leave it be, Dimmy, they're already home free. For now.]
[All he's got is a sidelong look from the driver's seat. Not guilty. Not completely mindful of his error. Right or wrong he knows those cops were trouble. The farther they are behind them, the better. Larry shifts in his seat.]
I know that rubbed you wrong. At least lemme say you handled it well. Now you can rest.
[He lets the car fall to silence. Eyes are peeled for another accomplice to raid them for more cash. So far it doesn't come. They're in no condition to both fight. And so far they haven't been burdened with the decision of whether or not to kill anyone to get by.
It will come.]
Before we hit the road today, I took a listen to the news. They think we're still in LA.
[Freddy knows, accepting the admission of guilt as well as the compliment. That combined with being able to recline in the passenger seat is a well-deserved reward for being so fucking super cool and naturalistic.]
I don't want to hear about the news.
[Because that means that's what his family will be hearing, what his family will believe. That they're in LA means he's alive. They'll think the worst of it though, after seeing what happened to the Nash kid.]
[Seeing him take a load off does cut the tension that's been hanging in the car. The whole trip has been one dancing on the edge. Now and then it gets so bad that Larry wants to go to pieces. It can't stay like this, he keeps telling himself. It isn't going to.]
I didn't catch much.
[As a relief. There's so much at stake for Freddy. His job. His family. The things going through his head right now. Larry hears his voice back days and miles ago. Not now.
A rough sigh before he adjusts the steering wheel and the seat. Now he'll be taking up another cigarette.]
[A little Newendyke sarcasm slips in but it's not so much that he's angry at the old man it's just his frustration. A head start is no head start when neither of them had any warning they'd be coming back home. 'Home' isn't even the right word for it anymore.]
We're over the border and we don't have the diamonds. We're getting devalued by the second.
[Which is only half true. Freddy Newendyke has no real say on how valuable he is to the City of Los Angeles. From a detective's perspective he'd have labeled his value as a witness, but with Joe Cabot and everyone else dead...well, that no longer means a thing.]
I don't think it means we're any less wanted. That is some kinda value. I mean, sure would be great if they'd stop lookin' but...
[Dead cops. Dead civilians. Stolen diamonds. A dead crime king pin. Someone has to go down.
Maybe he should have dropped it. Larry sees a lovely sprawling property up ahead. The sign reads House of Roses. By the name alone he's sure they're going to be staying the night in a whore house. It wouldn't be the first time. So much for relaxation though.
They won't get any women. He's about certain he'll spend a part of the night beating off in the shower.]
You sure you want to stay around here? You can sleep, I can keep on going.
[And maybe relieve the welling negativity by delaying it with more travel.]
[More mixed feelings on the looking. All Freddy really wants is for his family to have closure, whether that's letting them think he's dead or letting them think he's abandoned his old life permanently.]
We have to stop somewhere for fuel.
[He reminds the old man, almost annoyed by this lack of concern for other logistical things but he knows Larry's trying to put the ailing kid first.]
[Ailing bitter, sarcastic Freddy is first through and through.]
Fuel. Food. A rest.
[Sigh. They're still making tracks. That is also what counts. And so far they have been soaring under the radar. Right before that whore house is a small independent gas station. The car pulls in. Larry has to stub out his smoke too soon.]
Fuel first, you're right.
[There's a wad of bills in the breast pocket of his shirt that he reaches into for a few. He knows he's going to pump the gas and pay. Let the kid fucking rest and stew. Or just stew.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
no subject
[Freddy reassures him as he sinks back into the passenger seat.]
Let's get outta here, not to where our friends back there pointed out.
[He insists both because it's a good way to throw anyone off their trail and because he is not interested in the pussy.]
no subject
Didn't seem like a set up.
[As a comment, they're still rolling.]
They could have easily gone and took the cash themselves but they didn't...
no subject
[Freddy warns, absolutely certain Larry's trying to do the thing where he talks 'pleasantly' of clearly crooked cops. Sigh. Just leave it be, Dimmy, they're already home free. For now.]
no subject
I know that rubbed you wrong. At least lemme say you handled it well. Now you can rest.
[He lets the car fall to silence. Eyes are peeled for another accomplice to raid them for more cash. So far it doesn't come. They're in no condition to both fight. And so far they haven't been burdened with the decision of whether or not to kill anyone to get by.
It will come.]
Before we hit the road today, I took a listen to the news. They think we're still in LA.
no subject
[Freddy knows, accepting the admission of guilt as well as the compliment. That combined with being able to recline in the passenger seat is a well-deserved reward for being so fucking super cool and naturalistic.]
I don't want to hear about the news.
[Because that means that's what his family will be hearing, what his family will believe. That they're in LA means he's alive. They'll think the worst of it though, after seeing what happened to the Nash kid.]
no subject
I didn't catch much.
[As a relief. There's so much at stake for Freddy. His job. His family. The things going through his head right now. Larry hears his voice back days and miles ago. Not now.
A rough sigh before he adjusts the steering wheel and the seat. Now he'll be taking up another cigarette.]
To mean it means that we still have a head start.
no subject
[A little Newendyke sarcasm slips in but it's not so much that he's angry at the old man it's just his frustration. A head start is no head start when neither of them had any warning they'd be coming back home. 'Home' isn't even the right word for it anymore.]
We're over the border and we don't have the diamonds. We're getting devalued by the second.
[Which is only half true. Freddy Newendyke has no real say on how valuable he is to the City of Los Angeles. From a detective's perspective he'd have labeled his value as a witness, but with Joe Cabot and everyone else dead...well, that no longer means a thing.]
no subject
[Dead cops. Dead civilians. Stolen diamonds. A dead crime king pin. Someone has to go down.
Maybe he should have dropped it. Larry sees a lovely sprawling property up ahead. The sign reads House of Roses. By the name alone he's sure they're going to be staying the night in a whore house. It wouldn't be the first time. So much for relaxation though.
They won't get any women. He's about certain he'll spend a part of the night beating off in the shower.]
You sure you want to stay around here? You can sleep, I can keep on going.
[And maybe relieve the welling negativity by delaying it with more travel.]
no subject
[More mixed feelings on the looking. All Freddy really wants is for his family to have closure, whether that's letting them think he's dead or letting them think he's abandoned his old life permanently.]
We have to stop somewhere for fuel.
[He reminds the old man, almost annoyed by this lack of concern for other logistical things but he knows Larry's trying to put the ailing kid first.]
no subject
Fuel. Food. A rest.
[Sigh. They're still making tracks. That is also what counts. And so far they have been soaring under the radar. Right before that whore house is a small independent gas station. The car pulls in. Larry has to stub out his smoke too soon.]
Fuel first, you're right.
[There's a wad of bills in the breast pocket of his shirt that he reaches into for a few. He knows he's going to pump the gas and pay. Let the kid fucking rest and stew. Or just stew.]