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[orangetoughguy]

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[orangetoughguy]

[Caramel green eyes sort of roll because he's totally sure Larry didn't forget something Larry's just showing off how much dough he's got yeah that's totally it fff.]

Wait.

[Reaching into pocket Freddy pulls out a crumpled...dollar. Yep. A single crumpled but very American US dollar. Here you go, Dimmy, he throws it on the pile. Heh.]

[whitetwoguns]

[His brow lifts. This outta be interesting. What didn't go to expenses for Freddy? Well. One bill. American or not. It is theirs. He takes it gratefully and flattens it.]

That's it then. I don't think there's any in the car.

[Now for a real count with it all together.]

How much do you wanna go in with the fights?

[The money crinkles and whispers as it falls together through Larry's fingertips.]

[orangetoughguy]

Uh...

[He knows he can't say none because they don't really have any other means of gaining some cash in a semi-legitimate way. Fuck.]

You're the expert, I trust you.

[Freddy waves a hand, putting it all on Larry. Ahem.]

[whitetwoguns]

Well. You know me. I'm an all in sorta guy. We can't go on like that.

[Clinky a clink of coins.]

We can't go on without a change though either. So we should play it safe and go half.

[He looks up from all the money to the kid.]

It'd be a loss if we choose wrong, but nothing we can't handle.

[orangetoughguy]

[A freckled finger draws random designs on the table as he leans in, head tilted to one side, like his ear facing Larry is going to help clarify things at all.]

You say 'we' like I'm going to be at the table.

[Please tell him that's not the plan, Dimmy. When he held up that poker game it wasn't the way his cover made it out to be.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Caught! Just like the rat you are deep down old man.]

We're in this together. Your money, my money, our money. Any where it is going, you are represented.

[In money mostly. That answers one question.]

Sounds like you don't wanna sit in at the game. How come? You're pretty good when we play.

[orangetoughguy]

I don't know how to play high stakes.

[Freddy insists with much larger foxy eyes now, ears up, everything erect--er...alert. As if there's a difference in the way you play a game depending on the stakes. Actually there is and that's why the kid thinks this is a job for the old man.]

[whitetwoguns]

Same game. Just gotta adjust the approach. ...I'll show you how to do it sometime.

[He is putting all the money together now so it doesn't look like he's a banker or anything.]

So I'm thinking, a forth of the funds for the bull. A half is for the poker game. We'll have something left just in case.

[There's a growing pit in his stomach that he's trying to ignore. This is all they have, after all.]

[orangetoughguy]

Good idea.

[And a freckled hand sticks out, palm up, expectant. Yes, Dimmy, he's expecting to be in charge of the 'something left'....no offense or comment on your self control or anything. It just seems like a smart idea, right??]

[whitetwoguns]

[For a glimmer of a moment he remembers money passing hands. Promises of being the one to watch it, of nagging doubt that ended up to be for good reason. Except not now. Actually the opposite. He wants to pocket it all. No, you old shit. You can trust Freddy.

That vital 'something left' goes to freckled hands.]

Bull fight first.

[The old man puts it into his breast pocket. There are plenty of thieves out and about that are not bears.]

[orangetoughguy]

I got the plan, my man.

[Freddy yaps in his super cool slick manner, money pocketed with ease and a wink. Heh, that's a good bear.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Deep breath in.]

The easy part will be picking the prize winner. Then all we gotta do is relax and collect the winnings.

[That's it. Heh. Larry stands up and rolls his shoulders. They're sore.]

C'mon, pal. Listen up for the stats.

[He won't bother to extend his direction to say 'avoid picking one because the name is cool.']

[orangetoughguy]

Too bad none of 'em's Red Tornado.

[A reference surely lost on Larry Dimick but yes he's listening. And no, Freddy's not going to pick an animal solely by how cool it sounds. In fact his idea is to pick the animal Larry thinks is going to win.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Hours really fly by when you're indoors. By the time the old man emerges, the whole tourney and gaming time is over. Men emerge from the room. The business men in their three piece suits with their assistants continue business as usual. Cagey, wealthy types who want to go right back to the sports car and the condo not that far behind. Oh and Lawrence Dimick who is still sipping a cocktail. He's smiling, strolling on out and looking for his kid.

There's a gleam of a new wrist watch on his wrist. The other has a gold bracelet. Does this look like a loser, Newendyke?]

[orangetoughguy]

[Freddy's managed to cover all the grounds of the resort in the time it took for Larry to get that dough with the perk of a watch and a bracelet, damn. During the last fifteen minutes of the game though he chose to stick by pretty closely, just in case. Look at him almost napping on a plush couch with staff so eager to do away with him if it wasn't for the chip in his pocket proving he's a patron. Hah. Better wake him up, Dimmy.

The joke's on him though, the kid's not really asleep. He's just in eyes-shut-patrol-car-powernap mode.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Rather convincing act, at least until he stand over him. Larry nudges his knee against Freddy's side.]

Hey. Rise and shine.

[The high he is riding right now makes him more foolhardy. The old man dips his fingertips into his glass to flick the droplets onto that freckled mug if he needs more incentive to 'wake'.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Nudge or no nudge, Freddy's about to call victory on his half-sleepy act but the droplets of liquor throw him off. Thhbhthtb. Wait. He gets a taste of it on his lip. Okay not so bad. Caramel green eyes remain half-lidded.]

You look perky. [Yeah. Perky. He said it. What of it, Dimmy?] How fast do we have to get out of here before someone wants to take a swing at you?

[whitetwoguns]

[Have a taste of victory, Freddy. It tastes like coconut.]

Uh.

[Glance behind him. Glance in front of him.]

Pretty soon to be safe. I wanna finish my drink first.

[Perky he says. Larry endures. Sip, sip before he crouches beside the other man. He leans in and the alcohol on his breath is no doubt more prominent as he whispers.]

We're good now, baby.

[orangetoughguy]

You must be feeling pretty confident to finish that off in front of all these people you just cleaned out.

[That's what happened isn't it? Sounds like it. Looks like it. Must be it. Again with the licking of his lips but it's only to polish off the coconut and rum.]

[whitetwoguns]

I do. I am.

[Eyes are fixed on him. He's not encouraging them to dash right away. Is he?]

Have some. It's well made.

[If only to watch him enjoy it, help the drink drain faster. Half full and all full of optimism.]

[orangetoughguy]

[How long has it been since his gut wound? How long has it been since they've been on the run? It feels like weeks. Is it two? Three? One? Either way the kid's belly has been healing well. Maybe he managed to take a trace of city magic back with him. All that considered he looks at the drink, looks at Lawrence Dimick, back at the drink, then back at Dimmy as he takes the glass for a sip. Caramel green eyes stay focused on those warm brown ones framed by crows feet.]

[whitetwoguns]

[He wants to say it's been three. Maybe closer to two. The days are feeling more separate then they used to be. And even though there hasn't been one past he hasn't checked over their shoulder, there is a great distance between those nights he'd wake to check on the man in the same room.

What's a sip? He hands the glass over and watches just as intently. The way he holds it. The way his lips touch the glass and where.]

Not too much now. Might to right straight to your head.

[The way it did to him. But this is his third on a not very full stomach. Leaner living from a more slim wallet has its results. Tonight they're gonna eat like kings.]

[orangetoughguy]

My head's not what I'm worried about.

[Freddy remarks after giving his lips another lick. Heh. Sorry Dimmy, you're not getting your glass back.]

So what now?

[He asks, waiting for Larry's orders. He won the pot, he calls the shots. For tonight anyway.]

[whitetwoguns]

No?

[Worried about them then? Dimmy smiles and rubs is fingertips up against his face. They still smell like cigars. Every poker gathering has a cigar smoker. Here it is that real fine Cuban sort. No exporting fees when it's closer. He crosses his arms.]

Now you and me we get to another location. Celebrate and live a little.

[He puts his hand out, believing there'll be a drink back in it.]

You up for that? A good fucking meal. A softer bed to sleep on.

[Is he speaking your language yet, kid? Brown eyes try not to hyper focus on the details of how Freddy swallows after each tilt of the glass to his lips.]

[orangetoughguy]

[That big nose takes a sniff, inhaling the aroma on Larry's thick fingers. Smells good. Then when that paw's outstretched Freddy puts his hand in it to get back up on his feet. Sip of the drink. It's fruity sissy shit but damn does it taste so good.]

I am totally up for that. I'm hungry.

[And for all the super cool dude he exudes the kid really could do with not roughing it on a shitty motel mattress or the backseat of the car for a night. Another compliment:]

You did good, my man.