orangetoughguy | log post II

Bad enough for you to use something for it.

[Nostrils flare in anger something like a bull. He's gotta keep his cool. It's not gonna make Freddy feel better. The anger is apparent on his face. He takes a look at the pills in his hand. Sure enough looks pretty standard shit. Pharmacy imprints and all. This isn't any homemade street shit.]

So how bad is it? Huh?

[Let him keep his damn pills.]

I'm not usin'.

[Freddy fires back with more frustration than anger. He didn't take it and he's not gonna, not right now, and maybe not ever. He pockets the bottle though because he's not gonna do something dramatic like flush it all down the toilet either. When it's legit it's legit. Why he hasn't gone to the hospital for it isn't just because he might not qualify, what with other people experiencing the same phantom pains, it's also because that guy works there. Best to avoid the whole place whenever possible.]

Don't blow a fuckin' fuse on me.

[Is that the sound of a wounded Newendyke? Maybe. But he's still able to keep standing on his own two feet. He won't lean on a stall wall now, especially with Larry looking at him like that. Freddy'll go for a cigarette now.] It got real bad this morning, it's a pain to eat.

[Fine then. The old bear backs up. That wasn't what he meant. And if it's any good to the kid might be worth taking. Another reason to be angry, this time at himself. He takes few steps in one direction than the other, not entirely pacing. No response to that request or that outburst. A few moments of quiet. Calm the fuck down.]

Why didn't you tell me? Bad or not why didn't you tell me?

[There's no way for this to look like a magical happening like a diamond shitting toucan.]

It wasn't a big deal. [In other words, not something he wanted the old man to worry about.] It coulda been anything.

[Then Angela told him about her pains and he started paying closer attention. The biggest curiosity to him is why Larry doesn't have any of it and they both had been shot together too. Then again, the pain's radiating from only his gut wound, not his shoulder one.]

I don't know what the fuck it means.

[Already he's sounding apologetic. How hard it is to say I didn't wanna mess up a nice time (after a diamond shitting toucan fiasco) with a stupid ache.]

It's not a big deal when you feel it. It's not a big deal when you go seek out pills to take for it. When is it a big deal then?

[Asking out of exasperation. Larry isn't resourceful or in medicine okay that he gets. He would have done something. Been more supportive. For fuck's sake he wouldn't have had them go out to eat or take the long way to get food.

Who did he tell? Where did he turn to? Freddy doesn't have many people he confides and certainly no one closer than himself. That he knows. The list of who could have given him the pills is short. Around the top is That Dick.]

That's why you couldn't fucking eat. What's the point of us goin' out?

[So that the old man could have his fucking fish. That's not fair. Why does he have to keep doing that?]

[Too many questions and too many subtle (or not so subtle) verbal gestures of his own shortcomings. Yes, the kid knows he messed up but now he's feeling like the old man's getting harsh on him. Freddy slaps his hand against the wall like doing so gives him an anchoring point when he leans into Larry's face. He just wanted an excuse to smack the wall.]

I tried okay? I really fuckin' tried to keep on doin' everything like it was normal. Not just for you but for me too because I'm supposed to be stronger than this. I fucking nearly bled to death and I sure as hell wouldn't wanna fuckin' do it again but I did it. This?

[He gestures over where his belly is.] Should be a goddamn cakewalk, Larry. [Caramel greens are more sour apple than caramel now because it bothers him most that he doesn't know why it hurts. Though, obviously it doesn't hurt him enough not to have an argument about it.]

I wasn't tryin' to keep anything from you, I just wanted to have a plain old good time.

[Noise sure carries in bathrooms like these. Maybe it's the high ceiling. It could be intimidating to some types. Not Mr. White types tough. He'll come face to face.]

The only reason why you had to put up with it for so long is because you had to. Here, there's no damn reason good enough to compromise your physical well being.

[Right? Right? Larry combs his fingers through his hair. For his own good, he reaches for the latch on the door.]

I'm glad you're okay. I think we should get you to a professional just in case.

[The kid didn't eat diamonds that much is true.]

I just wanna finish dinner...

[That's spoken with no petulance and everything something kind of like defeated. Not defeated by Larry either but defeated by whatever the city's decided to throw at them.]

It fuckin' tastes good...

[And whine whine whine. Maybe Freddy's feeling bad too for being such a fuck up but he doesn't know how to say it.]

We can take it home.

[Door unlatched, he walks to into the rest of the men's room. No one is around. Freddy can come out if he wants.]

They got doggie bags.

[Since he's out there he takes out his comb and wet it under the faucet.]

How are you feeling right now?

Edited 2011-05-17 07:37 (UTC)

Yeah, okay.

[Freddy gives a couple nods before stepping out of the stall too. Thank fucking Christ no one's around. His posture is tense but not rigid, it's hard to carry a stiff back when you're slouching from pain, and Orange wasn't one to walk straight up and tall to begin with.]

Still fuckin' hurts but you didn't take the wind outta me?

[He's joking. Maybe it's an ill timed joke.]

[Funny, but no laughs here. Tough, tough crowd. He is momentarily preoccupied with his reflection as an excuse to turn away and recover. Freddy's the one in fucking pain. That's it's own mode of suffering as it is. Don't need to add to it by being a horse's ass.]

You sayin' you don't want to go to a doctor though, is that right?

[Just to get things clear. First he's looking into the mirror to see the man standing behind him, then turning.]

[The kid shakes his head.] I didn't say that, I ain't gone cause...

[Cause it wasn't this bad before. Freddy runs his fingers through floppy hair then down to rub the nape of his neck.] I'll go to a doctor.

[That's a concession just for Lawrence Dimick.]

[Turning back around Lawrence Dimick takes a good look at this kid. His intentions are good. From the toucan, to this. Does he really need to be this rough with him?]

Y'can't blame me for worrying about you.

[He hopes. Or maybe that's the trouble. The old man's not made of nerves though.]

I'll take your word for it if you say that it ain't bad enough to want to get it looked at.

[Except it doesn't escape him that he sought out pills.]

I don't blame you, Larry.

[The kid shakes his head. No of course he doesn't blame the old man, but he does blame himself for not handling the situation better. Just like he failed with the toucan, now he's endangering himself. Except it wasn't that fuckin' bad man, he just keeps coming back to that.]

I don't know, I don't wanna go to the hospital.

[That's just a tiny bit different from not wanting to go to a doctor. He drapes an arm over his stomach. No growling so it definitely isn't indigestion.]

Frankly speaking I don't think anybody wants to be at a hospital. They're there because they need to be.

[Although he had seen him truly needing and wanting to see a doctor. Fuck man, the more memories like that pop into Larry's head the more they make him feel helpless and angry that was how the chips fell. But it's done and finished. No way to change it. Besides, who knows what changing one element of then right now wouldn't be the same. He saw Back to the Future.]

Do you think you can eat?

[Let's try the long way around. If Freddy can be persuaded to see a doctor then...]

Believe me, Larry, I wanna eat. Real slow like maybe. [There's a brief pause, then:] I'm sorry.

[His mouth pulls into a slight frown to one side, but it's brief.] Know anyone from work could give me a lookover?

[That wasn't the question. In fact, it makes the old man feel worse that they're at a goddamn restaurant with food all around and the kid isn't able to enjoy it. Real fucking smooth.]

S'okay.

[A paw grabs and squeezes one shoulder. It doesn't have the same pressure. Sorry kid. He's now going into the land of overly considerate.]

I do.

[She's a short warthog of an old woman with enough hair on her lip to call a mustache. There isn't enough sweetness in her personality to save her. The handful of times Larry's seen her, she's been in a foul mood.]

...that what you want?

[He is so relieved to have that paw on his shoulder, touching and squeezing just like he needs it. Freddy reaches up to put his own palm over Larry's.]

Yeah, just a real quick look. If I gotta go to the hospital from there I'll go. [Another pause.] Can we try finishin' dinner?

[Another squeeze. Freddy's suffering enough. They'll talk about it later....maybe.]

Okay, tough guy. [Baby.] Fair warning she's more Nurse Ratched than anything else. [Could he just go to the hospital now? Better care that way? Kid's choice really.]

Well sure. [He steps aside, hand on his shoulder but this time from the side.]

After you.

Thanks, cowboy. [Baby.] I don't mind.

[The Nurse Ratched deal, better than going to the hospital to possibly deal with any of those fucks. If he could book a time with Cameron...but he won't until he has to. After riding in the backseat of a car bleeding to death then bleeding out further on a ramp, Freddy thinks he has a solid idea of what level crosses into necessity.]

Don't get worked up if I gotta take it slow okay?

[He asks more out of better humor than a real request. He knows the old man can be one overprotective and overly concerned bear. With good reason though.]

[Just don't go using that kind of talk right now. It's because he's not on the verge of death that it should be treated right now. A fella shouldn't wait until he's clinging to strangers.]

Take your time. We'll go when you're ready to go.

[Mr. Orange calls the shots.]

log post II

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