log post II

[orangetoughguy]

third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III

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[whitetwoguns]

[What the fuck man. This means war. Larry crouches then goes to his knees to reach behind the entertainment center and pulls the first plug he finds which...also turns off the TV. Oh fucking well. He's too pissed for the moment to care.]

[orangetoughguy]

[What the fuck. What. The. Fuck. Was that really necessary? Well fuck you too, old man. But instead of get furious and incensed, the kid does what he just knows is gonna grind the tough guy's nerves even more. He feels the silence of the room with the crunching of his cereal. Because the TV's off he's just gonna read the cereal box here.]

[whitetwoguns]

[The silence buzzes in his ears a few moments. Can he do a fucking thing right? Jesus fucking Christ. Larry stands up, slowly at that and just...stares...]

How long is this gonna go?

[Not that he's showing any sign of slowing up on his end. As long as it takes. At least that's what he tells himself. How many days has it been? Fuck they don't even touch let alone speak. And that's fucking fine. The old man is pretty pissed too. Whatever harm he did cannot possibly be worth this, even when he beat up that vampire it wasn't as big of a deal as this.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Ugh. Why does he have to ask questions? Seriously why? The kid pauses for a moment like he might actually answer...only to pull his hand out of the box and eat my cereal. This is different from that vampire shit because that was still pretty clear cut and dry. This, not so much. It just gives them both a reason to feel in the right while harboring a sliver of doubt they might be wrong.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Yes, yes he does have to ask questions. Even though they got him in trouble. Trouble could be all he's got right now. It don't make no sense at all in Larry's head. They've got a deep connection, deeper than arguing over shit like questions phrased like this or that. Deeper than a few religious hairs to split...or so he hopes.]

So. You're gonna ignore me.

[Mr. White can't stand it.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Make that two who can't stand it because when has Freddy ever gone for longer without saying something? He's no Mr. Brown but around a guy like White, Orange here can't help but run his mouth. Something about the way he smiles...or in this case blusters.]

Motherfucker, what the fuck do you want me to do? [He asks, looking offended. Yeah, offended.]

[whitetwoguns]

What the fuck do I want you to do? I want you to fucking speak to me when you step into the fucking room. Haven't seen you all fucking day.

[He could have keeled over for all Larry knew. Maybe not have even been home. Except he knew that for a fact without looking in, his shoes were by the door. Uh huh. He notices those things. Also someone else was drinking the coffee. It's all evidence without hide nor hair of one Freddy Newendyke.

The short answer beneath the blustering is that he's not asking for an apology or nothing, just...contact. They haven't shared words, nothing]

[orangetoughguy]

[What? Seriously? The kid, exasperated and feeling a little burned by some guilt, raises his hands in a kind of brief acceptance. Fine. Now you see him, Lawrence Dimick.]

Here I am. Turn the fucking music back on.

[whitetwoguns]

Can you please keep it down?

[Yeah his use of please is a tad spiteful. Looks like anything he wants to try right now is useless. He's not stooping to plug in the electricity yet.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Talk about incredulous. Freddy stares at Larry.]

No.

[whitetwoguns]

[He should have expected as much. Larry licks his lips and takes a step back.]

Okay.

[Then he can plug it in his own damn self. The old man feels done with his attempt at contact. Even that feels like it was too much. Fat lot of good it did anyway. He is heading to the stairs.]

[orangetoughguy]

[He figured that part as much before the old man even asked. Cereal box pushed aside Freddy does get up to plug all that shit in. He's on his hands and knees now which may or may not obscure the green scowl he gives Larry's back as the man makes his way over to the stairs.]

Asshole.

[That's a half growl-half hiss as he plugs all the shit back in. The shot of electricity restarts the shuffle that stereo's doing so the music starting up is Steven Tyler screaming about getting back in the saddle again.]

[whitetwoguns]

[The old man only looks back when he is pretty sure the kid's not looking anymore.]

Dick.

[Not hissed, and maybe not even audible above the stereo. At least someone else is in the saddle right now. A day off going to waste right before Larry's eyes. He keeps on going upstairs.]