orangetoughguy: (grease is the word)
Mr. Orange (Freddy Newendyke) ([personal profile] orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-05 05:20 am
Entry tags:

log post II


third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III
whitetwoguns: (Dream Weaver)

[personal profile] whitetwoguns 2011-05-20 06:58 am (UTC)(link)
[No? What? Maybe now wasn't the right time for this kind of a conversation. That can be respected. All the stress. The pain that Freddy's enduring. What does that kind of talk matter, really. There is no Alabama or Bobby here. No Joe. No Eddie. No kidnapped cop.

The old man feels something like that feather head snuggling close striving for attention from those hands.]


Baby, I love you.

[What else can he say? Now those hands want to hold him, touch him, appreciate that both of them are alive.]
whitetwoguns: (Brother's keeper)

[personal profile] whitetwoguns 2011-05-20 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
[That damn bird. Is Sam able to feel meaningful looks in the same way that he deals them out? He's got one right now however short. Since he can't hold him or go into his arms Larry lifts his hands to his mouth to kiss before leaning forward.]

One Freddy.

[All this man needs. And Freddy needs one Dimick. The other two...not so hot.]

One Larry. Good enough from there.
whitetwoguns: (Cool Side of the Table)

[personal profile] whitetwoguns 2011-05-20 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
[That's what he thought. Get a move on little bird. This bear is being pulled. Larry lays however he can with the kid, half on the couch not putting anymore weight than he has to on Freddy.]

You won't.

[Not in his book. The city is never going to ask what he thinks. Until that day he can only offer up his word.]

I'm right here, cowboy. I'm right fucking here.

[Lips touch his forehead. His paws touch against his stomach.]

Are you still hurting?
whitetwoguns: (Mr. Fucking Compassion)

[personal profile] whitetwoguns 2011-05-21 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
[This close Larry can breath in Marlboro, chocolate and booze flavoring Freddy's breath. His own eyes shut a few moments to appreciate the warmth of his skin. Not much bloodshed for putting a body to rest, no matter what he looks like. It don't matter. This here is worth fighting for, worth all the bullshit from all directions.]

You better. Don't make me go and get you. You wouldn't like it.

[He's mildy impressed with his own delivery, like it was possible. A long exhale and he opens his eyes again.]