Mr. Orange (Freddy Newendyke) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-05 05:20 am
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-05 05:20 am
Entry tags:
log post II
third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III
third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III
[Two guns to his name, and they're in need of some TLC. Not that he'd ever say much but they're put to work like he is. Not a big body count. In fact, every time he takes them out he keeps in mind what's at stake.
Larry is laying out the proper materials to clean them, careful and in an orderly fashion. On the same counter as the bucket of chicken no less. It's sanitary. Besides, all that Kentucky fried bird is inside the paper bucket, so in the event that this wasn't particularly cleanly, it's in the right directly.
And Ella is on the stereo. He was feeling kinda bluesy.]
Larry is laying out the proper materials to clean them, careful and in an orderly fashion. On the same counter as the bucket of chicken no less. It's sanitary. Besides, all that Kentucky fried bird is inside the paper bucket, so in the event that this wasn't particularly cleanly, it's in the right directly.
And Ella is on the stereo. He was feeling kinda bluesy.]
[Click click. That's the sound of one kid coming through the door of their fine warm apartment. Freddy can hear Ella crooning and that alone almost sets a mood for tranquility. Yeah, she's bluesy, but she's a far cry from loud smashing noise and havoc, not that there's anything wrong with it. He has no problem heating the apartment with a torch song.]
Hey.
[Here's a greeting to the head of brown and mildly silvering hair he sees at the couch. Freddy moves on over after shutting the door and dropping his coat to see what the old man's up to. Chicken? Smelling good. Guns? This diverts his attention to the bear's paw for which he still feels some mild guilt. The kid leans over the back of the couch.]
Did you just get started?
Hey.
[Here's a greeting to the head of brown and mildly silvering hair he sees at the couch. Freddy moves on over after shutting the door and dropping his coat to see what the old man's up to. Chicken? Smelling good. Guns? This diverts his attention to the bear's paw for which he still feels some mild guilt. The kid leans over the back of the couch.]
Did you just get started?
How would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
synanthrope
2011-02-12 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Saya steps into the garage, bundled up, a little later than she usually is, bags and boxes in her hands. She looks like she just came from a shopping trip, and her cheeks are pinker than usual]
Hello? I know I'm late, are you here?
Hello? I know I'm late, are you here?
How would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
orangetoughguy
2011-02-12 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Fsssssttttsssssss. That's the sound of someone using some kind of machine to take the bolts off a wheel so he can remove the tire. He catches Saya's voice at the tail end of the process. Up goes a floppy haired head before Freddy gets to his feet.]
I'm here.
[Where the hell that scrawny kid is Freddy doesn't know.]
Need help? [Regardless of the answer he's already wiping his hands off in case she needs them.]
I'm here.
[Where the hell that scrawny kid is Freddy doesn't know.]
Need help? [Regardless of the answer he's already wiping his hands off in case she needs them.]
How would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
synanthrope
- 2011-02-12 00:16 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
orangetoughguy
- 2011-02-12 00:18 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
synanthrope
- 2011-02-12 00:20 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
orangetoughguy
- 2011-02-12 00:22 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
synanthrope
- 2011-02-12 00:24 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
orangetoughguy
- 2011-02-12 00:28 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
synanthrope
- 2011-02-12 00:29 (UTC) - ExpandHow would I know, why should I care, please don't bother tryin' to find her;
orangetoughguy
- 2011-02-12 00:33 (UTC) - Expand[Fuck work. The money is good, and all in all there's not too many negative sides to it but fuck. Larry again looks out the window to see the streets overrun with blue. The boss is okay with it. Otherwise he was coming up with a story about a mean case of swimmer's ear. Yeah. That'd do it.
Sure would be a decent day to see what's in the water. The sportsman in him is already weight out the options of going for a swim or fishing. Decisions decisions.
He could take a boat ride to see what the kid is up to. Hopefully it wasn't that bad to get to work for him. Would that dark eyed, curved bodied boss lady of his be working him like a dog in this? The old man begins typing up a message when he swears there are footsteps in the hallway.]
Sure would be a decent day to see what's in the water. The sportsman in him is already weight out the options of going for a swim or fishing. Decisions decisions.
He could take a boat ride to see what the kid is up to. Hopefully it wasn't that bad to get to work for him. Would that dark eyed, curved bodied boss lady of his be working him like a dog in this? The old man begins typing up a message when he swears there are footsteps in the hallway.]
[Oh she worked him like a dog and when we say like a dog we really mean a scrappy retriever of sorts paddling her out of the flood. Those steps in the hallway are wet ones because Freddy's clothes are partially soaked. Only his upper torso is dry thanks to some quick thinking.
Squish squish.
Those are his shoes. At least the kid sort of got a chance to shower. The door knob's turning followed by a floppy haired head poking through.]
...Did you even go anywhere?
[Yeah. That's how he's saying hi to you old man.]
Squish squish.
Those are his shoes. At least the kid sort of got a chance to shower. The door knob's turning followed by a floppy haired head poking through.]
...Did you even go anywhere?
[Yeah. That's how he's saying hi to you old man.]
[She's not early - in fact she's pretty late, because she didn't know if she wanted to come at all, but here she is, and she stops in front of the hospital and considers not going in at all.
It's the pause that makes her spot Mr. Nameless.]
I thought yeh liked blood on the outside.
It's the pause that makes her spot Mr. Nameless.]
I thought yeh liked blood on the outside.
Hah hah. Real funny.
[Freddy streams smoke from his nose.]
What're you doin' here?
[Freddy streams smoke from his nose.]
What're you doin' here?
[Today's work day involved cleaning up water damage, a great way to make a kid sore but also keep his mind active. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. A visit to the hospital seemed to prove the latter over the former. Either way Freddy comes in rubbing the bridge of his nose. With the lights on it can only mean Larry's in. A wonderful thing to come home to and frightening all the same.]
Hey.
[Got anything cooking? He's craving a snack.]
Hey.
[Got anything cooking? He's craving a snack.]
[Lights are on, the TV is on. He's watching Sanford and Son. Oh, there we go. Larry turns around.]
Hey.
[There's a bag of potato chips in his paw. Crunch, crunch.]
Hey.
[There's a bag of potato chips in his paw. Crunch, crunch.]
[A day passed. Two, then three. By then it was clear. The old man hadn't said anything about it but, since Freddy Newendyke sees him everyday he knows there's something to it.
Larry kept his winter coat out in the hallway. The same with his skates. Drinking coffee he shook his head, looking at the collection.]
I guess it's just not going to happen.
[All that time. All that waiting.]
Larry kept his winter coat out in the hallway. The same with his skates. Drinking coffee he shook his head, looking at the collection.]
I guess it's just not going to happen.
[All that time. All that waiting.]
[If Larry listens carefully maybe he can hear the crunch crunch crunch of cereal in the background. Freddy's made his way over to the old man's side, hand in a box of Lucky Charms. He looks at Larry, the collection, Larry, the collection. Crunch.]
...What. What is it.
...What. What is it.
[The good news is that they're living in a monkey toy free environment. There's more good news. Larry's thinking it over as he's waiting for the other man to come on in. They have the diamonds. One more positive outcome from the heist, that doesn't even involve lies or truth.
Freddy deserves to know. And if the old man keeps the diamonds to himself, he'd be no better than Pink.
So. The waiting. It's the hardest part.]
Freddy deserves to know. And if the old man keeps the diamonds to himself, he'd be no better than Pink.
So. The waiting. It's the hardest part.]
[Freddy finally wanders in looking a little tired complete with marks on his nose from a monkey thumping and non-monkey related hazards, but the monkey one is the most visible.]
Jose Cuervo, please.
Jose Cuervo, please.
[Looking over your shoulder never should go out of practice. Once again, Larry is compelled to assess their life, their security and look for holes in the cracks before something, someone crawls in.
Talk about a harsh refresher though. Not that Larry can ever forget what he saw as Mr. White, those easy living days with the mind bending curses make it all seem so removed.
Blonde. That fuck. He has to keep popping up. The old man's nerves are raw. And he didn't get to see the full extent of the man's cruelty. Freddy did.
The plastic bag he's got rustles as he moves it to the coffee table.]
Talk about a harsh refresher though. Not that Larry can ever forget what he saw as Mr. White, those easy living days with the mind bending curses make it all seem so removed.
Blonde. That fuck. He has to keep popping up. The old man's nerves are raw. And he didn't get to see the full extent of the man's cruelty. Freddy did.
The plastic bag he's got rustles as he moves it to the coffee table.]
[The door knob's making sounds. Then it turns slowly. With only a day gone by who knows if that creep is still hanging around. Hell how do they know he's been here and only sparingly made an appearance to have them lull themselves into a false sense of security? Paranoia like that makes Freddy Newendyke not such a fun loving kid. Reminders like this bring out the seriousness in him; don't take shit for granted Newendyke. Fortunately for Lawrence Dimick the shadow that looms in this doorway is just the kid's. He shuts the door behind him with the briefest parting glance over his shoulder.
Good. No one followed him home. Looks like someone's here too. Okay just relax now.]
Hi.
Good. No one followed him home. Looks like someone's here too. Okay just relax now.]
Hi.
[Get out of the coach.
Her gun goes off, then so does his. Just once because one bullet is all it takes for Orange to react in self-defense. She shot him first, who knows if she might've been planning to do it again. They're lucky the horse hasn't trampled them both in fear. But as a lawman in disguise Orange can't help feeling what he just did, pulling the trigger, was the wrong thing to do. He lays there in shock, mouth forming something between a grimace and a frown. The woman in bloodied blouse and layered skirts slumps over to hang out the other side of the coach.]
Her gun goes off, then so does his. Just once because one bullet is all it takes for Orange to react in self-defense. She shot him first, who knows if she might've been planning to do it again. They're lucky the horse hasn't trampled them both in fear. But as a lawman in disguise Orange can't help feeling what he just did, pulling the trigger, was the wrong thing to do. He lays there in shock, mouth forming something between a grimace and a frown. The woman in bloodied blouse and layered skirts slumps over to hang out the other side of the coach.]
[White can't be two places at once. He takes to lifting up his partner from the dirt and tall grass. The woman got what was coming to her, riding out alone is dangerous. They got outlaws. Case in point. Keep a move on, he tells himself. Lifting Orange to sit in the coach is no easy feat. The height forces him to literally shove the wounded man before climbing in.]
Okay, partner, okay. [All that blood already. Why is he even saying that? Larry positions the kid on the seat before stepping to the front. As for the woman, well, he pushes her out to sleep forever on the prairie. Reins in hand they have to get out of here. Good horse takes to the gunfire in stride. At least one thing is going right.]
Okay, partner, okay. [All that blood already. Why is he even saying that? Larry positions the kid on the seat before stepping to the front. As for the woman, well, he pushes her out to sleep forever on the prairie. Reins in hand they have to get out of here. Good horse takes to the gunfire in stride. At least one thing is going right.]
[The walk home's been uneventful so far because Freddy here has been quiet thanks to their ordeal. While it was a cursed one it was a none too pleasant reminder of that sordid experience. Worse yet, he's left the curse in a cold sweat, stinking of the prairie, feeling sore from all that writhing, and fucking exhausted.]
[Silence is perfectly agreeable to the old man. Larry is working on is second cigarette. There's no blood on him, though he feels dirty. All the ground covered from where they've been, that fucking day came back somehow. Just as fresh.
He side glances at the kid, not yet saying anything.]
He side glances at the kid, not yet saying anything.]
[Hey you, other guy who lives here. This guy has something to say to you:]
The only bullshit that stinks here is the bullshit you keep telling yourself.
[Freddy shouts from downstairs to upstairs.]
The only bullshit that stinks here is the bullshit you keep telling yourself.
[Freddy shouts from downstairs to upstairs.]
[Other guy, your roommate isn't gonna take that. A few too loud of footsteps and a loud reply is boomed down stairs.]
The only reason why you like the Dodgers is because they're closer and frankly the best of the worst of the region.
[And he'll stay perched near the top of the stairs. He can't see down there, but he knows that Dodger loving son of a bitch is there.]
The only reason why you like the Dodgers is because they're closer and frankly the best of the worst of the region.
[And he'll stay perched near the top of the stairs. He can't see down there, but he knows that Dodger loving son of a bitch is there.]
[It's a lazy weekend afternoon that's got the kid sprawled out on his bed, trying to put another toy together. Looks a bit like an Iron man diorama sort of thing. Who knows. It's just another addition to Freddy's room that really makes it look like His Place. Kind of like the small modest looking decoration above the doorway to his room. It's plain, two wooden twists bound together at the center by what appears to be leather. Nothing special, right?]
I was thinkin' of ribs.
[For dinner. Something. The old man isn't one to put together dioramas of any sort but he's got a paper underneath his arm as he lingers in the doorway. He steps in some to look over what's being worked on. Don't want to interrupt nothin' he turns to leave....when that nothing special appears.]
You put that up?
[For dinner. Something. The old man isn't one to put together dioramas of any sort but he's got a paper underneath his arm as he lingers in the doorway. He steps in some to look over what's being worked on. Don't want to interrupt nothin' he turns to leave....when that nothing special appears.]
You put that up?
[As he turns the page past the crossword in the paper the old man tries to think about what the last conversation--the one without any sniping or arguing--was about. Coffee feels like more company right now.]
[Enter one Freddy Newendyke dressed in some kind of long hooded jacket--great for going out or staying home--and his red, white, and blue skivvies bearing a shield and star. As if on cue, not only does Freddy enter the downstairs area, loud Motley Crue does too. He switches the music on, full blast, like it was already prepared for his entrance. Freddy doesn't really acknowledge Larry as he goes for a box of cereal.]
I'm lookin' over a four leaf clover that I over loved be threeee.
[It isn't exactly singing, more like rhythmically reciting lyrics as he comes into the apartment. He's attempting to be quiet. Except for how he can't control his dexterity. His shoes clatter as they come off on the hardwood floor.]
[It isn't exactly singing, more like rhythmically reciting lyrics as he comes into the apartment. He's attempting to be quiet. Except for how he can't control his dexterity. His shoes clatter as they come off on the hardwood floor.]
[What? Are those even the right lyrics? Jesus. Freddy who's been home (alone) for some time (since work) hasn't participated in any drinking festivities (sadly) so he's 100% sober when the old man comes in. Tries to. Whichever. He looks up from the couch, green eyes narrowing.]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
[Okay man. You've made it this far. Do it. Larry lifts a hand to knock at Freddy's bedroom door and falters for the second time. What the fuck do you say? Hello, I have tits. But... I wanted to let you know before you see a poorly dressed woman in these parts so you won't get mad even more has zero weight.
Waking up was difficult. This had to have been a dream even when he processed this was the City but for God's sake he's not a he right now. Lawrence Dimick is a fucking woman. His Superman shirt is the only thing that fits good enough on top of a pair of briefs that have to be safety pinned just so.
Do this. He has to. Be a man...even though he doesn't have a choice otherwise. Larry knocks. His fist looks smaller, more feminine. There are only small differences that make him recognize himself. The skin tone, the scars on his stomach, the tattoo of the clawing wildcat, those cannot be replicated. Should all else fail, that can be his proof.]
Hey. You in there?
Waking up was difficult. This had to have been a dream even when he processed this was the City but for God's sake he's not a he right now. Lawrence Dimick is a fucking woman. His Superman shirt is the only thing that fits good enough on top of a pair of briefs that have to be safety pinned just so.
Do this. He has to. Be a man...even though he doesn't have a choice otherwise. Larry knocks. His fist looks smaller, more feminine. There are only small differences that make him recognize himself. The skin tone, the scars on his stomach, the tattoo of the clawing wildcat, those cannot be replicated. Should all else fail, that can be his proof.]
Hey. You in there?
Go away.
[Says a voice that doesn't sound like Freddy Newendyke and yet the tone and the way it 's spoken says it all.]
[Says a voice that doesn't sound like Freddy Newendyke and yet the tone and the way it 's spoken says it all.]
[The old man comes on in, carrying a few groceries. He's whistling some song he can't name, it's stuck in his head. Some trash of the kid's. One with lyrics that you can follow at least. Rustle, rustle of plastic bags that he sets on the counter. He also bought a few cans of chili to go with the chips. Oh yeah, home cookin'.
Anybody home? Either way, he's busying himself putting away the goods.]
Anybody home? Either way, he's busying himself putting away the goods.]
[Trash? Trash?? Memorable trash at least.
Freddy's in and just hopping out of the shower because he finally went back to work, so there's a dirty blondeish dripping thing at the top of the stairs.]
What'd you bring?
[Cause he heard the rustling in the kitchen and stuff.]
Freddy's in and just hopping out of the shower because he finally went back to work, so there's a dirty blondeish dripping thing at the top of the stairs.]
What'd you bring?
[Cause he heard the rustling in the kitchen and stuff.]
[Who knows what time it is. Right now all that matters is the urgent-sounding name-calling of one Freddy Newendyke.]
Larry! Larry!
Larry! Larry!
[THUMP! THUD! No he did not fall out of bed or anything. Now have a whole lotta footsteps. Gang way! Lawrence Dimick coming through.]
What? What is it?
What? What is it?
[Vroom vroom. There's a figure in denim and leather sitting on top of a fully finished purring motorcycle of sporting on and off road proportions. His identity's hidden under a no longer glossy helmet. Explanations later, first he's got to snatch Larry up. Freddy's waiting on the usual corner.]
[The old man strolls out. First cigarette of the walk home. It's not as dark as it could be. Really though it's nothing. Stay near the streetlights. Don't talk to strangers. Both are things he's been doing for a long, long time when he wanted to play it safe. Looks like everyone has the idea to get on out of the night air. Larry will too, in due time. His ears perk at the sound of an engine, he's got to look in that direction.]
[THUMP. Wake up, Lawrence Dimick.
The other guy he lives with knows he doesn't have to go in early today so here Freddy is in the late morning, standing in his doorway and tossing a helmet onto his stomach.]
The other guy he lives with knows he doesn't have to go in early today so here Freddy is in the late morning, standing in his doorway and tossing a helmet onto his stomach.]
Oof!
[Jolt! He's awake! He's fuckin' awake now. Blinking he realizes what's been plopped on him.]
Hey.
[Rubbing his eyes he sits up.]
Goin' anywhere?
[Jolt! He's awake! He's fuckin' awake now. Blinking he realizes what's been plopped on him.]
Hey.
[Rubbing his eyes he sits up.]
Goin' anywhere?
[Nothing beats the cool sheets, Larry settles on his side and shuts his eyes. The bed feels mighty comfortable tonight. The mattress is more firm. He must be that tired. As his eyes are drifting shut a weight shifts in the bed, oh shit and those are hands.]
Fuck-! Hey!
[He fumbles a little too far to the edge of the bed and nearly falls off.]
Who are you? What's goin' on?
[Oh man, not again.]
Fuck-! Hey!
[He fumbles a little too far to the edge of the bed and nearly falls off.]
Who are you? What's goin' on?
[Oh man, not again.]
You feel funny.
[Freddy remarks as he curls an arm around Larry only to have the other man pull away. Well it sounds like Larry but something's not right. Shit the kid dreads they might have tits again so on the lights go. For the record they're in Larry's room tonight, in Larry's bed, naked in Freddy's case. That is Lawrence Dimick on the other side but...but...]
What the fuck, Larry??
[Freddy remarks as he curls an arm around Larry only to have the other man pull away. Well it sounds like Larry but something's not right. Shit the kid dreads they might have tits again so on the lights go. For the record they're in Larry's room tonight, in Larry's bed, naked in Freddy's case. That is Lawrence Dimick on the other side but...but...]
What the fuck, Larry??
[The bear in his true and lumbering form steps into the apartment. Back to normal...City normal. The world looks different from where he stands now. It should now that he has those twenty five years back. He rubs a paw over his face, not because of the long day at work but because of the dangling detail that needs to be solved.]
Anybody home?
Anybody home?
Over here.
[Freddy says with a raised hand that the bear can probably see peeking over the back of the couch. That's what he's been doing since coming back from the garage, just laying on the (cleaned) couch. Listening to music, the TV on though he's not watching it. He has a comic book in his hands...one he's already read before though. It's just busy work to take his mind off what Freddy knows is some kind of static between Larry and himself.]
[Freddy says with a raised hand that the bear can probably see peeking over the back of the couch. That's what he's been doing since coming back from the garage, just laying on the (cleaned) couch. Listening to music, the TV on though he's not watching it. He has a comic book in his hands...one he's already read before though. It's just busy work to take his mind off what Freddy knows is some kind of static between Larry and himself.]
[Someone's home, Freddy can tell that much. Shit. Door open he's got no way of pretending as if no one's there at all. Quick Newendyke, think fast. Yeah...throw your jacket over the long cardboard tote in your hand. That'll fool him. Look it's just to ease Larry into accepting their new guest. Tok tok goes the thing in the box.]
[The old man is doing chores, domestic dog that he is. There's a few hampers of laundry that's being separated and a few things out to go to the cleaners.]
Freddy, that you?
[He's not in an apron, fuck no. A t-shirt and some worn out jeans are this maids attire.]
Freddy, that you?
[He's not in an apron, fuck no. A t-shirt and some worn out jeans are this maids attire.]
[A Larry, that's right, a Larry is waiting down the street from the garage. He has a wide, carefree grin on his face. Even though the son is out he's not wearing any sunglasses so it's plain to see that he's looking Freddy's way. Do you see this man Freddy? Now that he knows the kid is looking at him, this Larry is waving. It's an easy wagging of his hand and arm, not too fast.]
Hello.
[In fact, he's waving right until Freddy is within reach.]
Hello.
[In fact, he's waving right until Freddy is within reach.]
[Larry's in a good mood...very unusual. Well, not so much unusual that he's in a good mood but unusual that he'd go out in public so...happily. Freddy crosses over to Larry's end of the street.] Hi. You're happy.
[He's not gonna ask if the old man smoked a bit of weed without him.]
[He's not gonna ask if the old man smoked a bit of weed without him.]
[PING! That'd be Mr. Orange's phone. He has one message. All it says is lobby and five minutes from then.
Down below, he's keeping the 1953 Chevy Bel Air Coupe in a beautiful emerald green is waiting with the old man at the wheel waiting. Yeah. He's on the clock. So what. Who is really gonna know besides them and the coupe. And coupes don't tell.]
Down below, he's keeping the 1953 Chevy Bel Air Coupe in a beautiful emerald green is waiting with the old man at the wheel waiting. Yeah. He's on the clock. So what. Who is really gonna know besides them and the coupe. And coupes don't tell.]
[It's a City Coupe, one never knows. Freddy does come down though in just his jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie, because no one specified the mode of dress. Fortunately for Larry this does make the kid inconspicuous in appearance. Stepping into the lobby he looks around for the old man. Looking, looking. What the fuck is that through the glass doors? Freddy makes a visor with his hand like it's gonna help him see better at night. Then he's moving closer and closer, out the lobby doors and right on towards a classic.
People with no car sense might think it an old piece of metal, but men with taste know better.]
People with no car sense might think it an old piece of metal, but men with taste know better.]
[The sweet coupe's on her way through the first leg of this bathing experience. For the price Larry's about to pay she oughta get every nook and cranny cleaned complete with wax and polish. Might take a while but it'll be worth it, right? It's not even their car and Freddy still feels some mild sense of responsibility in treating her right. Must be a dude and car thing.
Inside the shop feels like a transportation back home...souvenirs, maps, junk food, hell even a couple games--hey what's that? Right away the kid gravitates towards a particular arcade machine. Spider-Man: The Video Game.]
I know this one. [Go figure, it feels so much like home inside there's a game from home too.] I'll be Spidey and you can be Black Cat.
[This should be the first clue, Lawrence Dimick. Black Cat's the woman.]
Inside the shop feels like a transportation back home...souvenirs, maps, junk food, hell even a couple games--hey what's that? Right away the kid gravitates towards a particular arcade machine. Spider-Man: The Video Game.]
I know this one. [Go figure, it feels so much like home inside there's a game from home too.] I'll be Spidey and you can be Black Cat.
[This should be the first clue, Lawrence Dimick. Black Cat's the woman.]
[For what he's paid the old man figures that it's expected. Nevermind that he fucked Freddy Newendyke in that sweet coupe. She deserves it being their third.
The old man is looking through the car nick knacks. Seatbelt cushions to sit at your shoulder, car Network device chargers--what'll they think of next?--and of course air fresheners.]
Huh? What's that?
[Oh. A game. Man, he should have seen that coming.]
Me? I dunno how to play. [Which is a bigger issue than playing a woman. Woah what a woman from the looks of her even on that blocky computer image on the screen.]
The old man is looking through the car nick knacks. Seatbelt cushions to sit at your shoulder, car Network device chargers--what'll they think of next?--and of course air fresheners.]
Huh? What's that?
[Oh. A game. Man, he should have seen that coming.]
Me? I dunno how to play. [Which is a bigger issue than playing a woman. Woah what a woman from the looks of her even on that blocky computer image on the screen.]
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