orangetoughguy | logging iv

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.....!!]

[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.]

[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.]

[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.]

[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!!]

[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.]

[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!!]

[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!]

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.]

[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?

[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...

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.]

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.]

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.]

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.]

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?

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.]

I feel fine.

[And now is burdened with playing boss man.]

I'm asking for you too. Since we're on the subject.

[Sniff, sniffing. He lightly thumbs a nostril. No blood. Freddy did a good job.]

You know as well as I do I coulda gone for more.

I think I'm okay. Nothing much. [Nothing doing.] Do I look okay?

[He steps back with freckled hands up so the old man can look over him himself. That healing wound on his belly isn't bleeding through his shirt profusely but there is something slightly damp there. More like the scab's gone and cracked open to weep the clear stuff that builds up during the healing process. As far as Freddy's concerned, a little antiseptic and it's good to go.]

[Head tilt to really look on at him. Of course he zeros into his wound.]

Looks like something's going on there.

[And boy does he wish, wish he had some sort of wound training to pull from.]

Does it usually do that?

[Lightly touching on the wet spot before pulling it slowly up a degree or two. They're standing off of the road with a building as a shield from one direction so it doesn't look like anything special if they play it cool. Plenty of scabbing there.]

It's a wound, it does a lot of things.

[He doesn't stop Larry from looking at it. That would be foolish after what Freddy more or less caused in the bar. The wound itself still looks intact, healing well, no infection. But this little crack in the scabbing could lead to infection without proper dressing. When was the last time Freddy laundered this t-shirt?]

They do.

[His mouth is a flat line as he feels over the skin just around the wound. Hell of a wound. The healing process is like a time piece ticking away how long they've been out of the City and on the road. Being no doctor and having no intention of spinning it as nothing, he doesn't want to take any chances.]

It's been a few days now, kid. Let's just go. If anything we'll get more meds.

[Which have been helping quite a bit as far as Larry is concerned. He's a believer in medicating. Just like drugs only helpful. He slowly sets Freddy's shirt down.]

Huh? Go where?

[To the doctor, he knows. He just can't help expressing surprise anyway but he certainly doesn't fight Larry's decision. After all the old man will have to do the driving.]

Now? At this hour? We don't have money for the ER.

[More surprise. It's not like he's forgotten Larry has certain...ways around things here in Mexico.]

We have a little.

[How much of a little he won't say just yet.]

If we find a small place I think we'll be able to work something out. No fucking way I'm gonna say fuck it on account of money. We'll get more.

[Just not as quick and easy in the way that would be convenient. Once rainbow colored money poured like rain. That wasn't why it was a happier time at all, now. No.]

Are you sure?

[Another dumb question of course he's sure the old man wants him to see a fucking doctor.]

How are we gonna find one? You know a guy?

[From aggressive to submissive in less than a half hour. Freddy can't help feeling a little sheepish after that foolish display in the bar.]

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