logging iv

[orangetoughguy]

welcome home

Comments

[orangetoughguy]

Outside. To hell. Did you hear me?

[Isn't his bristling a warning enough? The kid is not one to be messed with, not one to be pick pocketed or conned. Freddy's unaware even a man of his stature and looks, testosterone-laded aggression can come across as exciting.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Chico clicks his tongue. Rather than being intimidating he is getting high off of the tough guy act. Whatever floats their boat.]

You sound like you wanna pound my ass, man. I dunno if hell or outside would be good for that.

[Brow eyes dip low to take a look and see at what he's packing in his jeans. Shameless. He even ends it with a lip smack.

Larry snorts.]

Look, pal. Fuck off.

[orangetoughguy]

Huh??

[Say what?? In his condition?? No way?? Er. Not that Freddy isn't flattered in some aspect, he just doesn't know how to express it. He's totally caught off guard by this man's behavior, the words, the glance, the lipsmacking. Doesn't he know they're two intimately involved men on the run from the law. Ain't nobody like them got time for trash. Freddy's so caught off guard and insulted that he instinctively reaches out to give the guy a shove to the shoulder. Nothing too rough (yet).]

Back off, dude.

[whitetwoguns]

[A shove? What's a shove? He turns to Larry, his back and rump to Freddy which he pretty shamelessly tilts toward him. By now it should be known that it isn't an accident. Just multitasking.]

I wasn't talking to you yet, I was talking to him.

[Even knowing that this might happen, the old man is pretty unhappy. Small, string bean of a think that this chico is with no threat to pose it rubs him the wrong way.]

I'm talking for him.

[Which their unwelcomed guest finds funny. He presses back into Freddy and looks over his shoulder. Even if he doesn't get laid, chico is enjoying the provocative. All that masculine aggression.]

[orangetoughguy]

Hey! I don't need you talking for me!

[Freddy yaps at Larry, growing more resentful by the second until he finally acknowledges the ass that's practically in his lap. His side is starting to hurt.]

I said fuck off!

[One hand goes for the guy's wrist to pull it tight and high behind chico's back. Then without warning Freddy gives him a tough push. At least he lets go before doing that.]

[whitetwoguns]

[A vital, unfortunate second slips away. The old man could have taken their company away physically before he is slammed into the bar. Apparently it is wrong for him to have tried to shoo away the pest.]

Hey! What the hell?

[Like it is out of the blue. The burst of action gets more attention around the bar. Larry feels eyes on em. Good thing he let go of his cop move before then.]

Both of you--quit it.

[Speaking as his own separate party now. The bartender is no longer part of the furniture. He says the two fag bashers gotta go. Meaning them. Chico's friends have come on close. Fuck it is like they're sharks.]

[orangetoughguy]

[With all those eyes on them Freddy still finds the time to glare at Larry with characteristic near boyish resentment: you don't tell me what to do. Oh but they're causing a scene now and...what??]

I'm not a fagbasher!! That cocksucker started it!

[A point at chico...who is quickly being surrounded by chico's friends. To Freddy they're more like piranhas than sharks. Yeah, better get out of here.]

[whitetwoguns]

Only cuz you was asking!

[The old man is on his feet. And not for action. He is digging for cash to leave up on the bar. Mouth is buttoned shut in a grimace. What the hell did he do wrong now? Turning he bumps elbows with another fella, not part of the aggressive twinks but the air is so static and hostile he gets a shove back.]

Fuck this.

[Fuck all of it.]

[orangetoughguy]

Let's go.

[Yeah after all that Freddy thinks he's totally leaving with Larry like that was the plan from the start which it is to him because chico's being an asshole and this whole bar's got his back so clearly it's the kid and the old man who are unwanted but whatever Freddy doesn't want to stay in a place like this anyway.....!!]

[whitetwoguns]

[Agreed. Silently at that. Larry rubs the side of his nose and turns. Jeez. Was there no other activity to pay attention to around here?]

Gonna move?

[To let them pass that is. Begrudging, in the way that folk do, there is a little room for a big Dimick to go through. Trusting that Freddy is right behind, he starts moving.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Freddy is right behind him, slinking along, but ready to lash out if necessary whether a fist comes flying at him or somebody's drink.]

[whitetwoguns]

[It's a drink. The ice rains on Larry while the contents splash over Freddy. The glass? Well. It doesn't shatter until it hits the floor at least. He whirls around and even though he has been trying to keep them cool, even though he knows it won't do a lick of good both fists come up. It's just what the bar crowd itching for action wants.]

[orangetoughguy]

[No need to put up your dukes, Lawrence Dimick. Freddy Newendyke is just a lightning step ahead. Out goes a freckled fist to deck the attacker. Nevermind that it's just a drink, only Freddy can throw a beverage on Larry or at least give permission to do so!!]

[whitetwoguns]

[Ooohhh--is the crowd getting what they want. And fight, fight is a chant that's universal. Larry's there and ready but mostly to get them out of there. It's bad. Real bad. Everyone could be the one to get them.]

Fuck off, all of you!

[The third fist to fly is Larry's. The other guy is working up retaliation a one two, right for Freddy. The old man tries to get between them.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Look, Dimmy, know that the kid loves you. He loves you a lot. You've been through a ton of shit together. You're going through a ton of shit now. And you've put yourself between them, voluntarily. Don't blame Freddy for taking the opening...and tucking himself just behind the old man enough to avoid the blow. He has a good reason to do this okay!! Right away he's grabbing at his clothes to start hauling ass for the exit!!]

[whitetwoguns]

[Love means being there for one another, through thick and thin. Love means saying you're sorry and admitting you're wrong. Love means that you make mistakes and still carry on loving.

Larry gets a mean slug in the jaw and has little time to recover right because he takes one to the chin. Luckily he's scrappy. Prison has done him worse. He gives right back even as he's backing on up.

Oh shit. Is that blood up his nose? Maybe.]

You're fucking lucky you piece of shit!

[Leaving! Leaving officially!]

[orangetoughguy]

Goddamn. [Freddy mutters.] Goddamn.

[He doesn't let up until they're far away enough to consider themselves safe. Those guys won't call the policia, the policia are just as likely to break up their sausage party too. This isn't the city and it's definitely still just the 90s.]

That was fucking retarded.

[Freddy huffs as he offers a shirt sleeve to dab at Larry's nose.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Puff, puff, puff. Worked up and smarting he is trying to play it all off like he could go again for longer. He could. And take em all out with his fists and bullets. Cool it, Dimmy. You can't. That's jail time, Mexican jail time because there's no way they have enough cash to bribe for a joint shoot up. And they're already running.

The dabbing brings him back. Sniff. Snuff.]

I'm okay.

[He wiggles his nose.]

Is it bleeding?

[orangetoughguy]

[More dabbing and a flick of his own wrist to accommodate the snout wiggling. Gotta get all the blood up. At least it doesn't look like it's broken, no downpour of blood here. Then again he is a scrappy bear, he's endured worse in prison. Maybe Larry's nose is just used to it.]

A little. [Freddy admits anyway.] It don't look too bad...

[whitetwoguns]

It's kind of hard to tell.

[Nice hit and all. His nose is still sort of throbbing making it difficult to place the trickle of blood.]

Long as it looks okay. We don't wanna look like trouble.

[Except that's what they are clearly.]

That fella was asking for something one way or the other.

[Kind of like how he said so.]

[orangetoughguy]

Yeah I figured that out.

[Freddy admits in the sort of tone that implies he knows Larry is throwing at him an undercurrent of 'I told you so.' Dab dab dab. The blood's already starting to lose its flow.]

You're gonna be okay.

[He nods, not at all saying it as a pun but the parallels are there. His own side is doing okay, it's his pride that feels sore.]

[whitetwoguns]

Tail is easy to get here.

[As long as that is an accepted fact then they can move on from there. He stays crouched down a little so that Freddy can reach and so that any altitude can spare his head a spin for now.]

Thanks, Doc.

[Now he slowly pulls up to his full height again and gives the back of his neck a rub as he looks around them.]

Nobody followed?

[Since looking behind has come so natural. Signs point to nope.]

[orangetoughguy]

No. Don't seem like. [Freddy reports after another look over (around) Larry's broad shoulder.] More trouble than it's worth I guess.

[Finally he removes the fabric from the old man's snout.]

We should get you some ice to bring it down, or water, to wash it off.

[There's a little bit of blood on Larry's collar from the wound, nothing alarming but you never know.]

[whitetwoguns]

Guess so.

[Which is a relief. He is a little disappointed he is missing out on an opportunity to bash some faces it. Sure would help him feel a better over all. That one solid clock he got in did something. Oh and getting his own clobbering.]

Shit. It's swelling?

[Larry sniffs again and lightly brights the tips of his fingers to tap the bridge then bulb of his nose.]

Damn.

[Now it's starting to feel more like he was punched in the face. He'll take back the feeling better on that. Sigh. Looking more at himself, he sees the blood. Only a little. No fucking dying, he is going to be okay.

Freddy here can take more on average. Was it his wound that made him say no? The old man thinks not. A lean between them got him annoyed. There's that. Ain't that something, Dimmy?]

We're due for a check in anyway, don't you think?

[orangetoughguy]

Not a lot.

[Just enough to make no mistake this man has been in a fight. Wait what? A check-in? The kid's brow furrows.]

You wanna see a doctor?

[Freddy himself is sore but who is he to judge how badly he ought to see a doctor now? Compared to bleeding all over the warehouse floor this scuffle is nothing. It's changed his perspective.]