orangetoughguy | log post II

[Brown eyes are looking right on back. Sure the kid isn't in a suit of his own with all the trimmings but it's what's underneath that counts. And in their meetings he's caught glimpses of what this man is about. Even though he's letting all the bullshit and filth harden his heart there's still pieces that just cannot be replaced.]

It's a standing offer.

[Though a no is a no. Would he be willing to offer again if refused? Sure. He can take his hits.]

[Again he's watching, then the kid downs the rest of his beer at warp speed. So the bill's only four beers? Kind of like pocket change considering his offer, but Orange has another idea in mind.]

Let's go for a walk. You do walks right?

[That's another quip, a little joke at the high roller's expense seeing as how he's in such a fine suit, who would mistaken him for rabble?]

[Four beers it is and a tip for the girl working the bar. White raises an eyebrow and looks Orange from the tops of his shoes to the tips of his hair.]

I got legs don't I?

[And so he stands.]

Wearing the nicest shoes doesn't mean keeping them on the ground.

[Orange remarks with a casual shrug. Yeah it's a pun, but a pun directed at who? He won't say if he's never asked. Up on his feet the dirty blonde sort slips out of the bar with only a slight nod to the girl. Outside he lights another cigarette.]

Lead the way. [To where? Don't know. Anywhere. He wants to see what this man does.]

I gotta keep em somewhere.

[Casual maybe but not entirely carefree. That's the way a guy should be. Out into the night are that seems about as smoky as the bar.]

Aw, come on now, tough guy. [Once again, White leans in.] You got me anyway you want me and you don't say where. It's enough to drive somebody crazy.

[All the same, he steps away. Leading as he was asked.]

[Whoa there, close proximity right out here in the street? Orange doesn't lean back away from him but it is a cause for raising eyebrows. It's the words White uses that bring a warm flush color to his cheeks. Definitely not the beer.]

Maybe I'm lookin' for the place where you want to be put.

[He counters over a puff of smoke. He never promised he'd put the old man there, that's the catch.]

[White doesn't turn around completely but throws a smile over his shoulder.]

You gonna keep talking or follow along?

[Because the old man's going up the street toward that strip of motels with the neon light signs are the only bright things in the night besides the man's face.]

[Is he asking if he can walk the walk after talking the talk? Of course he can. Orange is following not quite on White's heels but close enough that anyone can tell they're walking together. He puffs once, twice, then looks up towards those lights. The closer they get the more noticeable the cast of redness it gives them. On Orange it makes his freckles blend in while the blue lights make those light brown dots stand out. He looks over to White when they're on the same sidewalk lining the front of the motels.]

I doubt you come here often.

[He upnods to the low level buildings. They seem far too seedy for White and while the kid's sure White does seedy things the old man also carries himself in a way that suggests he has standards. No rutting every night with a different trick each night. Maybe that's just the fantasy Orange wants to believe.]

Only when I don't want to be found.

[Chances are that is Orange all over. He shouldn't be fond with a man like White. Even when he is looking his best he is still not the same level.]

I got other places.

[Would that be giving a way too much though? How committal is Orange to this? It's like the two of them are playing chicken.]

I got time, show me what you want.

[Would that be giving way too much though? Orange thinks about it, the double meaning is obvious, which part White takes to mean though is out of his control. He streams smoke from his nose. It's chicken without cars, cocks are still involved.]

Keep movin'.

[In the same direction except this time past the visible hotels. The neighborhood is no hoity toity neighborhood that's for sure. White moves to a building. Compared to the others it sure has seen better days. No doorman.]

In here.

[Stepping in he feels a wave of nostalgia. He should because this is a hideout. That alone is incentive to keep going. Some part of him is trusting this kid.]

[Puff puff. He's moving along, watching the shadows. What is White thinking? Does he feel Orange is too easy? Too questioning? He questions the old man's intentions but at the same time he has an idea exactly what they are if they're playing the same game. What Orange ought to question is his own sanity for going along with it. Has he wanted this so badly he'll do anything White says and White's only letting him feel in control? That would be a twist.]

What's the history here?

[Caramel greens look over the building, the door without a doorman. It doesn't look welcoming, just the sort of place where people make do, do what they will because they don't got much else. Just a place for people like Larry during the lower points. He follows the other man in feeling like stepping over the threshold just pulled him into deeper waters.]

One of the many places I go.

[When he needs to lay low. That's not out of the ordinary is it? An elevator would restrict the man if he changed his mind. White hopes and prays that he doesn't. He'd been waiting, watching. They're not quite strangers. It's a given there'll be a big, big pay off.

To the stairs then. White takes off his hat and holds it in one hand.]

Don't worry, big guy.

[This ain't a trap. And he can walk out though why do that when there's so much more to offer. The room isn't far at all. White has a key and opens it up. Something like an oyster, the real riches are inside. Could be White's furnishing because he's here. The man's put down a fur rug.]

I'll bet you've gone far and wide. [No judgment here though, as a matter of fact it intrigues Orange, the way this White conducts his affairs. He thinks he's got the old man's type all figured out but he keeps reeling the kid in using some kind of black magic.] Am I givin' you the idea I'm worried?

[He asks cool as a cucumber to mask his hand again. When they're at the door a dozen images run through his head. Spartan but tasteful? Cluttered but comfortable? Grimy and desperate? What kind of place does White have hidden away, what does his secret look like? Not that Orange thinks the man is ready to give all his secrets away, just the ones he feels secure in giving to a kid. Well holy shit...it's a dead animal.]

You hunt? [It's a joke, he doubts a man like White would skin a beast himself. Could be another one of those double meanings though.]

I'm a traveling man.

[Black magic? Hey now. Could be the kid doing that. He's got a look to his eyes that can't be ignored. Something worth coming back to again and again.]

No. Just hoping to put you at ease.

[The rest of it is littered with souvenirs. Simple, smaller things. Tidy yet lived in. White shuts the door after they've entered. Click of a lock.]

No. Not really. [Brown eyes are on Orange as he says it.] Now. You were saying something? [Hat down. Now he is taking off his coat.]

[He's actually making sure he doesn't get ash on the fur rug.]

I was? If you were listening I guess you can tell me what I was saying.

[Tit for tat, except Orange has already forgotten what that was. White magic, then.]

Me doing [white loosens his tie] anything [he removes his cuffs] for you.

[That was the core of it. They have had their walk. If Orange wants fine cognac or whatever else the old man is stashing, then so be it.]

Edited 2011-05-28 07:06 (UTC)

[That's really open ended but chances are White knows it. The kid watches him remove this first, that second. It's a slow almost unbearable process because fuck just look at that broad shouldered beast of a man. Well, two can play at that game. He tucks his cigarette back into his mouth to shrug off his jacket. Whoops looks like that's no t-shirt at all, it's a wifebeater. Puff.]

You've gotta have somethin' good to drink around here.

[Orange nods around the place, a diamond in the rough. Oh shit Newendyke what's going through that head of yours?]

[Sure ain't no shirt. Those arms, that chest...with his coat on if White didn't know any better he'd think that Orange is a rough trade hustler.]

Right you are.

[White finishes rolling up his sleeves as he pulls out a bottle and two glasses.]

It's cozy.

How long have you had this place?

[Again he's just looking around, noting the souvenirs. There's something temporary about it--it doesn't look quite like home--yet with all the stuff in it he gets the impression White likes to carry memories and mementos. If White could have a place called home, he would. But it's all in the kid's imagination, he doesn't know for sure.]

This place here? Less than a year.

[Big paws twist open the cap of the brandy he found. In it goes into one glass and then a second.]

The city though? I can hardly remember.

I know the feeling.

[About not remembering when you got here. Orange doesn't, it feels like years even though he can't think as far back. The kid rests an elbow on a counter, a couch, whichever piece of furnishing is more convenient if there is any. He also puts his cigarette out in the nearest tray. From there, he watches White.]

[White comes closer and hands over a glass to the kid.]

Just to see someplace else seems like a good enough reason to pack your bags for good.

[The old man's own glass is lifted up in something like a silent toast.]

Would you ever leave if you had all the money you needed? I could help.

[There is a couch for Orange to use. White leans on the wall the light sending his shadow across the rest of it..]

[He'd take a seat on that couch if White didn't look so damn good leaning against the way the light falls. Fuck stop thinking that way. It's probably what he wants, it's even worse if it's not what he wants. People get killed for sending the wrong message (don't kid yourself, you know what he's thinking). Orange raises his glass in kind then takes a sip.]

I could but I'd come back. You don't abandon a place just cause it can kill you. Who wants to live on the run from everything on the fuckin' planet? [Another sip. Green eyes trace a line along White's silhouette. This place has him, whatever he entails. He intrigues Orange.]

[White takes a long drink and even has his tongue dart out to catch any lingering taste. He's listening, no mistake about it.]

Fight and flight keep a man alive.

[Even though he shrugs he finds himself a little disappointed that the kid, however jaded, won't take up the offer. At least not at once.]

You are right though. You gotta pick your battles.

[White sets his drink down and shrugs off one suspender strap and then the other.]

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