orangetoughguy | log post II

I wouldn't dream of letting you suffer some kinda embarrassment over me.

[The kid snorts but it's a pleasant endearing kind of snort. Yes a jacket and some hair slicking will do, but Freddy would be lying if he said he wasn't also keeping a close eye on Dimick, to see if he acts out in any way detrimental to their happiness. Could be a curse. The night they shot up a liquor store started out this way. Shit Newendyke have you no conscience? This man cuts off fingers or kills to steal if necessary.

Nope, guess he doesn't have a conscience either. Or rather he shares the same murky gray kind.]

Yeah, let's keep goin'.

Same here, big guy.

[The words usually would go with a healthy ruffling of his hair. That moment has passed. Strolling on the street now, smoking as they go like real fucking cool guys.]

Now, we're not gonna circle the block. We're gonna go in about this hour [he checks the time] there may be a post lunch lull so we can take our time. You can play eyes. Make note of the bathroom, the exits, what kind of a door they have to behind the counter.

I can do that. [Freddy nods.] You ever wonder why this place has a bank? Island's barely big enough to hold an economy but none of that shit's federally insured, so.

[Freddy throws this tidbit out there just to make casual conversation, not to suggest hitting one of the city's banks is a good idea. Actually it's probably a terrible idea compared to knocking a bank off in the Palisades or something. The people here could have magical security measures or fucking lasers in their fingertips.]

Some people don't believe in socks underneath their mattresses.

[Hey. come on. That's what the old man grew up with.]

Money has to move. That's what it does.

[Wait a second come to think of it...]

There's the underground too. Who can say how big this place really is in the end.

[And to the door they go. The old man holds it open for the kid.]

I ain't been down there too much.

[He shakes his head but carefully watches Larry's reaction to see if he has, for work or for other reasons. There was that one time he found the old man in a seedy dive, the other time he took them some place to fuck. But overall, Freddy hasn't been too far down there. It wouldn't surprise him if Larry had, at least for some reconnaissance or inactive work.

Walking in with his cigarette still burning, green eyes behind black shades look around without turning his head.]

Not scenic that's for sure. Nows not the time to be down there. Some kinda trouble goin' on.

[What exactly he has no fucking clue. Look at him give away how much involvement he has had in the underground. Oops. Ah well.

Here they are. The bank. The old man steps aside to grab a pen and a bank slip. Fake writing for the fake checks. He pretends to wonder the date too and scratches his head which...happens to be the side where he notes a camera.]

Yeah I got that feeling.

[Freddy says with a shake of his head. He has no clue either and he doesn't really care to find out as long as their own good thing going on doesn't take a hit from it. Only then would Freddy do anything about it....and maybe if one of his friends were in danger too. Out the corner of his eye he spots a woman giving him a dirty look. What, what is it? Oh.]

When did the world turn over on smokin'?

[The kid mutters for old man ears only. He's acting like he didn't see the shrew--er, lady.]

Figures if there's no hellfire everyone's fine.

[Been there done that. Though for now their lives are wonderful and pretty free of mortal terror. No Blonde. That one's always good. He's being very careful with his handwriting momentarily distracted. What's the kid goin' on about?

Oh. He looks back down and chuckles.]

I dunno. It's pretty fuckin' strange. Doesn't everyone smoke?

[Here though, he'll stub out his smoke. Well, kid? Larry looks down his nose. Monkey see.]

[What? Oh. Freddy sort of just rolls a shoulder back to stall in actually pulling that cigarette as far down as he can before rubbing it out. Fff. Why have ash trays inside if you don't plan to have customers who smoke? Honestly.]

Guess not. Two of the four night owls are fake.

[He remarks not necessarily to help with casing the joint but to maybe just maybe show (off) Larry how much he actually knows. The kid can tell a working security cam from a false one. Even banks need to scrimp on money it seems, yet the tellers have bullet-resistant glass separating them from the customers.]

Good man.

[See? Smart shit like this is one of the many reasons why Lawrence Dimick is wild about the man standing close to him. Paperwork ready he holds it up. Here we go.]

Watch. Smile. Don't say too much.

[Into the line they go. Two people ahead of them. Two tellers. One man and one woman. Mr. White puts on a passive grinning face.]

[Does a veiled request count for anything? Out of anyone else's hearing distance, he tells the old man.]

I wanna hear you put on an accent.

[Something that would fit floating on the blackwater under a Mississippi moon. If Freddy has to be involved he may as well get something out of it. And up go the glasses to wear his shades like a headband holding back hair in need of a trim. Freddy never wears his hair or his glasses like this, ever, so...it's a good move right?]

[The old man takes a look back at him. Well. Why the hell not. This is for educational purposes.]

Y'got it, pardner.

[Oh and they're up. Larry puts on his best smile for the teller. Her hair is in something close to a beehive. In fact she looks something like Mrs. Brady.]

Good afternoon ma'am. Ah'd laik open an' account with y'all.

[Not too loud and boisterous. Real easy like.]

[The accent coming out of Larry's mouth is too fucking smooth and too fucking easy on the ears. It strikes a chord in the kid who has to keep his hands busy by twirling a pen, that potentially annoying thing where the ballpoint just flips and flips between his knuckles. Better than doing a knuckle shuffle in public, honestly. Oh yeah have some manners Newendyke, that way they don't recognize you out of costume.]

Hi.

[Wow, pure Shakespeare. It doesn't matter anyway, Mrs. Brady who wears her title on her ring finger is giving Lawrence Dimick the eye. It's a pleased to meet you, sir kind of eye.]

Now, I gotta check here. That good for a start?

[Oh yes. He's very attentive, very polite. Mrs. Brady happily gives him the paperwork to sign here and here.]

Here I was thinkin' it'd be hard. [He chuckles good natured. Sheer confidence that the checks are going to go through. From where they stand, they pass the test with Mrs. Brady she's only looking at the numbers, the date. The machines they'll take it to will be another question. By that time Mr. Hex and Mr. Pecos will be long gone.]

You'll be sendin' my card by post?

[The woman is twisting her ring here and there. She's tempted. It almost incenses the kid while simultaneously inducing an erection. Shit keep it cool Newendyke. You've seen Lawrence Dimick work his magic before, why's this any different? Oh right, because they're fucking each other exclusively now so he's entitled to be possessive. If only on the inside because it's still their secret.]

Thanks, m'am.

[Freddy says...in his best Tarpey Village voice. They're just two business associates as far as she ought to be concerned. Man why's it easier to get in with a bunch of crooks than it is for him to pretend being Jonah Pecos to Mrs. Brady? Oh right, because Larry's distracting him.]

[Tells like the ring twisting, the way she's touching her neck even a little tells him that he's doing an excellent job. It's nothing big and overt. Just smiles, eye contact and being polite.]

That all it takes? Sure is easier than I thought.

[He touches the top of Mrs. Brady's hand as she slips his copy of the paperwork through the opening in the glass.]

Been a real pleasure, Ma'am. Greatly appreciate it. We'll be a-comin' back here. Won't we?

[That one is fir you, Jonah. Your partner's a-talkin' to you.]

What? Oh yeah.

[Freddy nods, regaining his wits again. Shit Larry why you gotta make this difficult with that amount of smoothness? It's like he's practically slippery. No Newendyke, don't start thinking along those lines, it's bad for your health when you can't whip it out. Somehow the kid manages to keep his composure though, unlike Mrs. Brady he's not revealing any tells. The shades plop down.]

Have a nice day, m'am. [He adds with a closed-lipped smile.]

[Bill pats Jonah on the back and they make for the door. Cool, calm and slow. No rush here. Down home folks like them aren't very quick to move as it is.]

Y'all right?

[There's a smile for you kid. Larry gets the door so the kid can pass on through. Is it his imagination or is the kid looking a little shaken?]

I'm--[What do down home folks say instead of cool?]--peachy keen.

[Maybe not that, Newendyke. Hey at least he's taking his time to step out of there with Lawrence Dimick. Whew. Coast is clear. Wait what? Shades drop down just enough for green eyes to peer out over the top rim. Why would he ask that? No really why? The kid's denying knowing exactly why. Goddamn blackwater.]

I'm fine.

Look like you seena ghost.

[Or somethin'. Larry decides to keep the accent rolling. Why? Because he can. Freddy asked for it.]

Y'know Ah'm feelin' rather parched. Hows about we ahead on over t'some waterin' hole fer a spell.

......... [Green eyes narrow as he pushes those shades back up to cover his freckled face.] White as a fuckin' sheet huh?

[He replies, dropping his own accent because he really doesn't have it in him to keep up the act. One thing about Mr. Orange was that deep down the guy was just an extension of himself. Freddy has no extension of Tarpey Village in him. He tucks his hands in his pockets.]

Sure, if you're payin'. [He tilts a smug look that-a-way at Bill Hex.]

Maybe snow.

[Shrug. Well, since he's already in the accent, why roll out of it so soon. Besides, it's because he's a cowboy fan. There shouldn't be any surprise.]

Sure, fella. Ya gotta answer one thing for me. What didja learn t'day?

[Oh it doesn't surprise him at all. It's the effectiveness that comes as a surprise, but really Freddy should've seen it coming. As for this question, again green eyes have to narrow behind those Clubmasters. Part of him thinks it's a legit inquiry, another part that it's a trick, and another part that feels it's a legit inquiry that happens to have tricky perks.]

I learned... [He keeps his volume low enough just for the two of them.] That if I jumped your dick in the middle of a bank, we'd get only two angles for the money shot.

Only two. Right y'are.

[A chuckle starts. Stops. Then bubbles up again as he shakes his head.]

That kinda thirsty huh? I can't go an' wet your whistle here. I reckon we can find some place that'll work.

[Though in the bank? That's a thought worth revisiting again and again. Bill Hex keeps a move on.]

Tell me what else y'learn t'day?

[The laughing doesn't faze him one bit nor does it make Freddy break 'character' so to speak.]

What happened to really good eatin'? Thought you'd treat me to some real swank. Am I too dirty to deserve it?

[He's still playing a part, he asks with a faked tone of seriousness...unless Larry really would consider Freddy too uncouth and downright crass for a nice establishment. That'd be both an insult and a compliment, go figure.]

I learned you didn't just get lucky. [For once that is not a euphemism. Lawrence Dimick is a fucking professional.] Not that I needed today to figure that out. I always knew.

log post II

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