orangetoughguy | log post II

Huh? Yeah I'm fine.

[Freddy replies in a way that asks 'Why do I look not fine?' His plate's been pecked at so he's been eating, just slowly, steadily, not quite fully. That alone is uncharacteristic of one Freddy Newendyke. To prove his own point though the kid takes a stab at some popcorn shrimp. Small bites first, the pain in his side can handle that...mostly.]

You sure?

[The fork is not a shovel that it usually is. Or at least what Freddy makes of it.]

Something on your mind?

[Which is usually a standard appetite suppressant. Kind of.

Cheap Trick is playing.]

No, nothin's on my mind.

[The kid shakes his head unaware of how easily that could be mistaken for a dumb blonde comment, like "empty space --> here" or something. He pops that popcorn shrimp, one piece at a time.]

Anything on yours?

[Larry's brown furrows.]

You've been quiet.

[Everytime someone says too quiet it means something bigger than it should be.]

Sam doin' good still?

[He goes for his beer and compares his with Freddy's.]

[His beer is almost halfway through, almost. Again the kid shakes his head.]

Naw, Sam's fine. [He doesn't say a word about being quiet but Freddy does start talking some more, aware that he's been less talkative and that's a sign of his discomfort. Freddy tries to put on a more relaxed demeanor.] Anything new with Barbie?

Good, good.

[Slurp, slurp before setting it down. The old man is pleased to see that he's at least willing to talk about something. Though that could just as well be a distraction.]

Naw. Though she comes on in now and then to go to lunch with her man. I'm guessing she's smart enough to keep her lady clear of the joint. I'd expect as much. She better play it safe. As long as I don't gotta keep an eye out.

[Chewing on his steak now a few times before a swallow.]

Your stuff taste okay?

[Maybe that's why he's not digging in.]

If it's no good, send it back.

Would it be a bigger scandal if she was bartending there?

[Freddy asks in a joking manner while popping another piece of shrimp. Oh it tastes pretty good to this kid and that's another reason why the pain in his side is so excruciating. He can't even partake in this delicious meal with his delicious company in relative piece. Nevertheless Freddy washes it down casually with another swig of beer.]

It's fine, tastes pretty good. Here.

[Scoop scoop scoop, Freddy cuts a small portion from his own plate to scrape onto Larry's. Clever, yes?]

[This joker here.]

You ask like you didn't know!

[Larry shakes his head. This feels easier now. Maybe he was lost in his thoughts. It happens. After all, Freddy's got all those super heroes on the mind. Nothin' doin'.]

I thought a few times of warnin' her but that's putting myself at risk. She's gotta know herself.

[Call it his tendency to be a white knight. The kid should know that it's got nothing to do with attraction.]

I didn't even tell Lucky. Better not put him in any line of fire either.

[Oh hay. Shrimp. Larry takes a bite.]

Edited 2011-05-17 02:30 (UTC)

The less you know the less you gotta hassle.

[And hustle if shit hits the fan. Understandable. And he sure as hell does know the old man has a tendency to white knight. It's just the way Lawrence Dimick is. One wonders if someone already knew it when they passed out names or if it was just a coincidence. Freddy smiles, the conversation helps take his mind off the pain, enough that he decides to go in for a piece of crab. Crack crack, that's the sound of shell snapping.]

I got a new guy at work. You know'im.

Bingo.

[The old man points with his fork before piercing another bit of meat.]

Oh yeah? I thought it was you an' Miss Saya.

[Chew chew.]

It is. She picked up a new guy, the same one in your train crash taxi cab shoot out.

[Not that he stalks your network activity or anything, Larry.]

That guy? He doesn't strike me as the type who'd know his way around car parts.

[Then again. The old man shrugs to sip again at his beer.]

What do you make of him?

[Because he honestly wants to know. That was some fancy shooting.]

He's hidin' somethin'. [This he figures is even more telling to Larry than it is to Freddy because Larry's got the career in crime.] He doesn't know his way around car parts but he picks it up pretty fast.

[In other words Freddy's given him a lesson or two in mechanical feats beyond basic maintenance. Learning just how quickly Eames himself learns is another eye opener. It just as well means the guy can put a gun together and dismantle it before the feds even realize that junk littered around the floor used to be a rail gun.]

I caught that much. That was a pretty fucking heavy duty shoot out.

[Since they're at an establishment and they can't throw around that much aggression or questioning, the old man leans forward.]

You don't get any funny feelings about him, do you?

[The last thing they need is outside static.]

Cuz you know. [That the old man would pounce. That goes without saying.] Doesn't seem like a brute though. [Then again Blonde didn't put off no alarms. Look at him.]

[Freddy shakes his head.]

Naw, I'm not gettin' that from'im. [But well, Blonde. How could one man become such a game changer? On the other hand the same could be said of Lawrence Dimick and Freddy Newendyke for each other. Ugh, that pain in his side hits a little sharper than expected.] Hey I gotta--[Think fast, Newendyke.]--piss. I'll be back.

[He doesn't give the old man any signal to follow either. How about that.]

Your eagle eyes'll be on him so he better behave himself.

[Not as a cop. This isn't even about the law in Larry's eyes, it's survival.]

Okay.

[No following signal? Grown man needs his privacy. Okay. Larry can deal with a little disappointment. Besides, a piss is a piss. Won't take long.

Or maybe he forgot.]

[Freddy's got the right mind to tell Larry one time Eames touched him in a bad place and somehow that led to a messy rough romp in the bathroom but the pain in his side cuts through his sense of humor. In the mens room he picks the farthest stall at the end to reassess his pain level. It feels like his scar wants to open up and start bleeding all over again but when he looks under his shirt everything is right as freckled rain. He'd heard about this going on from others, he didn't take it seriously until it started happening to him.]

Fuck...

[Yeah, that's to himself. Freddy digs through his pockets for the small amount of painkillers he managed to procure. Don't ask how, he just managed. He was a cop after all, an undercover one too.]

[Talk like that wold get the old man's juices flowing in a big way. Thems are fighting words. Larry finishes off his beer. Ah, what the hell. May as well see how the kid is doing. He's up off of the table, grabbing the waiter for a refill on the way to show that they're still enjoying the eats. Into the mens room he goes. What the? Not even using the urinal.]

[Freddy's unaware that the old bear's come sniffin' around. He's too busy still trying to decide if he'll pop a pill or not. Too bad for him when he decides to do it he drops the pill right into the bowl.]

Shit man! [The kid hisses, irritated. At least he didn't lose the other four. Yeah he's got only five. Look he doesn't want to get hooked okay?]

[There we go. That voice he'd recognize anywhere. Larry goes straight to the stall and knocks.]

What's the trouble?

[Larry's voice and the knock make him jump out of his fucking skin. Calm down, Newendyke, just calm down. He pockets the rest of the pills before he can even take one.]

I'm okay.

[No you're not. Don't lie. Don't lie so shortly after his birthday. Don't lie to your friend. A friend who's kind of more than that.]

I don't feel good. [So not good Freddy hasn't thought to unlock the door yet.]

[The stall clatters as he attempts to open the door.]

Open the door.

Leaning in such a way he can peek into the stall. It doesn't look like he's sitting on the pot.]

Was it something you ate?

[Oh yeah. He slides the latch to open the thing, preferring to bring Larry in than to step out himself. Doesn't sound like anyone else is there right?]

No. I got some kinda pain here, where I got shot. Feels like a fuckin' sidestitch.

[Freddy gestures for the old man to the spot even though he knows Larry knows exactly where the bullet scar is. The pill still sits at the bottom of the bowl.]

[As far as the old man knows. They're on their own. In he goes and for good measure he locks the door. The minute he says something about the old wound Larry is lifting up his shirt to see the area for himself.]

Looks normal.

[Rough fingertips move over the scar very lightly. Since they're near the toilet all it takes is a glance down.]

That don't make no sense.

[It's a closed wound. It's gonna be a year in the summer...along with everyone else.]

What the fuck is that?

[Though he knows a pill when he sees it.]

[Freddy doesn't protest this shirt-lifting even when it's not being done in a way that's become kind of familiar to him. No arousal in sight.]

I know, but it--it fuckin' hurts.

[Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit he sees it.] I figured takin' a painkiller'd do it in.

[Could you sound anymore pathetic, Newendyke?]

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