orangetoughguy | phone post

[Angela's seriously thinking, but whether it's her memory, the people who were happy being gone now, or the alcohol, she can't pull up any. Somebody should take a poll.]

In the beginning, I was. I pretended it was a free vacation away from dealing with corpses and dead kids.

Well you know happiness don't last forever, it comes and goes. How long you been here?

A year and a half. [Far too long, thank you very much.] Are you happy here?

A little tiny fraction of your entire life and it started out alright? Ain't bad odds.

[He's not going to ask Angela her age but really one year, it's safe to assume it's a tiny fraction. As for her question Freddy's got to think about it. His face was busted by the very same force who helped keep him alive. Some good some bad in that, he nods.]

Sometimes yeah. [He doesn't want to jinx it by saying he's had sadder moments at home.]

For me, a year is a longer than just a fraction.

[A year is the longest time she's ever spent in one place not D.C. A year is the longest time she's ever had her choices taken away from her. A year for Angela is like a lifetime to other people.]

I hope it stays like that for you. [And a piece of rare pessimistic advice...] Don't get attached or committed.

Well I hope it gets on the up and up for you.

[If she can't hope for herself Freddy's here to do it for her, whether or not it just comes off as obnoxious on his part. If he didn't care he wouldn't be sitting here nursing beers and bourbon with her.]

I ain't old enough to shoot people off my lawn yet.

[She needs time, as much as Angela hates waiting. The alcohol, the crying, they're all temporary distractions from the matter at hand. They can't last forever. Even Angela knows that much. But she's on her way to throwing up that wall that she used to have, the one that stopped her from committing or attaching herself to anybody or anything.]

In a couple years, you will be.

[There's a joke for you there, Freddy, even if Angela's hiding it behind her sips of alcohol.]

[Oh hell naw. He snorts though it's in good humor, just playing along.]

What makes you say that?

You're the older one. Don't deny it.

[He takes a generous gulp of beer.]

Older ain't the same as old.

That's what old people say to feel young.

[There might be a hint of a mischievous smile on her face. She's not cured, but at least she's set aside her bourbon for a glass of water at the moment. This might be a good sign.]

You probably won't be able to keep up with everybody else soon.

Bullshit. [To both remarks fff.] I played short stop in school and for your information I'm still pretty good at it.

I'll be believe it when I see it. When it warms up, you and me on the softball field.

[If he's still here, hopefully. Or if she is, as well. She's scared to hold out hope.]

[Freddy has to give her a scrutinizing look. Softball? Really? It's not a mean look of course, just...come on, softball?]

Make it a baseball diamond and you got a deal.

[For Freddy if it happens then it happens, it feels a lot better hoping for the best than thinking of the worst. Of course, he would have a different opinion on that philosophy if bleeding in the backseat of a car. Different circumstances okay?]

No, softball. [She doesn't care if he looks down on it. It's what she played and what she kicked ass with.] If you're so badass, you'd be able to flip flop between the two.

[What? What? He makes a face.]

Oh come on...fine.

[He relents as only a good sport can. Fff.]

[She just smiles, grateful enough to push her alcohol to the side. Her liver is grateful itself for the break in all the abuse she put it through this weekend.]

Thank you. Not for the softball. For coming out.

[If she neglects it long enough Freddy might just pour the rest of her beer into his own glass. Waste not want not.]

Nothin' doin', Angela.

[He gives her a genuine smile under all that bruising.]

[For a minute or two, she's quietly cracking the ice from her water between her teeth. He can have the beer and the bourbon too.]

Want to spend the night?

[It's not her attempting to thank this still nameless man with sex. She just doesn't want to be alone in that apartment with everybody else's belongings still hanging around. Maybe she can even get him to tell her who did that to his face. But if push comes to shove, she'll stop by for the animals and camp out a hotel to save her sanity.]

[Freddy looks at her straight on, as if trying to glean what her motive could be from sight alone. Just as well he thinks that's what it is, she doesn't want to be alone. He feels bad already for having to say so because much of what did follow Freddy from youth was a willingness to please.]

I can't...I gotta...

[He gestures to his own face with his hand, it's hard to convince someone everything's okay when the issue that caused his ugly mug in the first place is a work in progress.]

But I said I'd walk ya.

No, no, I understand. I totally get it.

[A lie. She doesn't understand or get it, not his sign language, whatever reason he's trying to suggest to her, or his tendency to play his cards so close to his chest. He's a mystery all together and Angela doesn't have the energy to try and decipher hints.]

You don't have to. I thought I would be drunk, but I'm barely buzzed. I probably won't go straight home anyway. [There's a casual attempt to wave off a question she shouldn't have asked.] Besides, you look like shit. No offense.

[He doesn't think she does but that ain't her fault and for what might be the hundredth time he thanks fucking God Mr. Blonde didn't stick around to make matters worse. Speaking of him, Freddy can't help but smile when she tells him that. Now is not the time to be thinking of Marvin Nash and his fucked up ear. He didn't know what to tell the guy back then, you look like shit would have been a good one.]

None taken. It's up to you.

[There's a small inconsequential choice for her to control, but it's a choice nonetheless.]

[Granted, it would be doubtful if Mr. Blonde would have even had a chance to tell her anything. Larry--to her, Frank--told her not to talk to him because he was a dangerous man. Still no clear reasons on why, but what was crystal clear was that Blonde was bad business.]

I'll be fine. I'll just stick around here for a while, maybe get some food in me. And then head home.

[Suddenly that bourbon looks tempting again, if only it'll be a great time diversion. For now, as long as Freddy is sitting across from her, Angela sticks to the water and a smile.]

[He's aware Angela's spoken with "Frank" before, all the more reason not to tell her who did this to him. That's a mess he can't handle without first handling the business between Larry and himself.]

Okay okay.

[Freddy shrugs, taking another gulp of that beer and not going anywhere just yet. He's pretty good at holding his liquor, what he can do is finish it all up and pay for his keep.]

[Watching him take a drink, but not actually finish the bottle, Angela wonders what happened to the thing he had to do or whatever he was pantomiming about. She shakes her head as she grips her glass tighter.]

You don't have to stay, you know. [Admittedly, she wants him to, but if he doesn't, she can't force him.] I don't know who deals dope around here, so no worries. I'll tell them Mr. Orange told me to say no to drugs.

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