orangetoughguy | phone post

[A look around the place before he leans in, voice low, as if tripling the privacy of this conversation is anymore helpful.]

What do you want me to tell you? You work with cops don't you?

[He says so in a tone that implies yes, he has something to hide and it's something he would report to work right away, if he were in LA.]

Not here. And I work with one cop. Who isn't here. My job is to find the identity of murder victims, not arrest people. What did you do?

[Angela is asking, but she doesn't want to know. But maybe she should know. Her morals have never been black or white and this shade of gray is unpredictable. She can guess, though, that somebody got hurt a lot worse than Freddy did and he's at fault. If she hasn't run from the diner yet, she probably won't at all.]

[He's giving her a look that says he wants to tell somebody. Someone who ain't in the business so to speak, someone who's not stuck in that kind of 'world' simply because he associates with those who'd put a bullet between his eyes if they knew what he really was. The doctor that left not too long ago put it pretty well; he's dangerous and kinda dumb for keeping it that way. Better than getting anyone's ear cut off followed by being burned alive.]

I want you to keep it to yourself.

[Freddy's reaching over for her hand, to give it a firm squeeze if he can. He doesn't tell her she has to keep it to herself, that's the risk he's gonna take for telling her.]

[She nods, slowly, leaning in so he doesn't have to speak any louder than he is now. What is it that he's going to tell her? He's a serial rapist? He collects dead bodies of kids? He shot a man in Reno just to watch him die? All these potential confessions running through Angela's mind and coming out in the smallest of trembles that he could probably feel through her hand.]

[...After all that he'll probably disappoint her with his confession.]

I was on a job lookin' up dealers. [Freddy refrains from revealing dealers of what.] These guys come and shoot the place up, don't ask me why cause I don't know. Wrong time, wrong place. I don't make a habit of taggin' guys and I sure as fuck don't make a habit of taggin' and runnin' okay?

[If he feels her trembling she might feel his hand grow a little clammier from anxiety.]

[Angela isn't stupid. She may come from a privileged background, but Angela knows more about the streets and the life on it than any of the Squints back at the lab with the exception of probably Booth. She knows what dealers are and do. She's probably dated a few too, but that's neither here nor there. Shootouts at dealing spots are a common event and one that doesn't actually shock her as much as Orange telling her that he 'tagged' somebody.]

Self-defense.

[She's asking more than stating a fact. Things like this are easier to swallow when there's a self-defense clause attached to them.]

[He makes a face at the sound of that. Self-defense. Sure that's what it is, people do it all the time. Shit they train cops to deal with it, to know when to use it. When Freddy defaulted to self-defense he shot a woman in the chest. He's not sure if self-defense is the right term for this incident either even if at the time it was us or them. This isn't the face of a cold hard criminal or a stone cold cop.]

Yeah. Self-defense. Almost got me in the head.

[Freddy lets go of Angela's hand to point at his ridiculous looking bandaid. Just because death doesn't seem to keep people down in this world doesn't mean he'd be okay with that headwound being just the half-inch deeper to make all the difference.]

And the guys? Are they...?

[She doesn't want to say the word, but it's obviously 'dead'. Angela can't see him as a murderer. She can't stamp him on the forehead with that title even though that's exactly what he is, full stop. But when the day ends, he's still her friend and that's all that matters to her.

But she still needs to satisfy her curiosity on that last bit.]

They're not comin' back.

[Because he can't say the d-word in a public place like this. Hell he probably couldn't say it so comfortably in private either. He's itching for a smoke but this looks like a non-smoking diner. Shit.]

[Well, that says everything Angela needs to know and her response to is it to bite at her lower lip as she sits back into her seat. If she can forgive Zack and Justin, she can forgive Orange. She'll say nothing; if she's stubborn enough, she might even forget it.

No. That's not happening, but grey morals, remember? Angela colors outside the lines of this one. They'll both be breaking a law. Him, murder. She, witholding information on a crime. If he doesn't tell, she won't.]

He's a sponge.

[They've seen each other without their clothes before, has she ever asked where those scars--the one on his belly and another near his shoulder--came from? Because he wouldn't have told her, especially about the one on his belly. Maybe now Angela's got a better idea.]

What?

[That catches him off guard. Plus...sponges. He has no clue what she means.]

[Angela has wondered and imagined where those scars came from, but like his true name, she knew he would never tell her the dirty details. He told her a long time ago somebody tried to kill him; she just chalked up the injuries to that and let it go. It wasn't worth arguing over when his identity was more important to her.]

Spongebob Squarepants. [She points up at his head for what's probably the millionth time today.] He's a sea sponge that lives in a pineapple under the sea.

You're shitting me.

[He really truly honestly thinks she's making it up as she goes along to be funny. Angela's creative enough for it.]

I am not.

[Luckily--for who, no one knows--Angela has an actual collection of Spongebob videos on her phone. Blame having a kid in the house with the maturity of a second grader and as much patience as one. That's her excuse and she's sticking to it.

Anyway, she pulls her cell out of her purse and cues up a short clip of the opening of the cartoon and hands the phone over to Freddy, opening him up to a brand new world of clothed sea animals that talk.]

Hey hey hey we're in public.

[Immediately he's expecting some more of her porn but it's all said in jest because if he wasn't prepared he wouldn't be accepting her phone. The song starts up and right away, bright shit. Caramel green eyes kind of glaze over; Freddy shakes his head.]

That's some Liquid Television shit there.

Nickelodeon, not MTV.

[Just wait until he sees the Krabby Patties.]

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