In the wake of the Cabots' passing, a power vacuum opens up in New York, wide enough that squares and streetwalkers alike can spot it. Freddy first starts to notice by the selection of girls available outside his local cinema, dwindling down to the last couple brave enough to face whatever action might be scheduled to rain down on them from some good for nothing pimp coming over from the other side of town.
Pimps, made guys, second in commands who are willing to take the plunge and carve up a little piece of territory for themselves. "The only girls still working are the ones up on ninety second street." Candice tells him. She's young, but still older than Freddy, and tall in her high heels. She has an Adam's apple and her voice is kinda weird for a lady but she seems nice enough "Iris will walk these streets come rain or shine."
"You know Iris?" Freddy asks, leaning up against the wall, just outside the penumbra of light coming down from the street light she's using to make this corner her stage.
Iris snorts, rolls her eyes. "Everybody knows Iris. Prettiest little filly in Sport's whole stable."
Freddy winces at the mention of Sport and Candice notices. She eyes him up, carefully. "I mean, you're kinda gross right now, no offence. But I can see why he would have tried to headhunt you."
"I'm not gonna work for that guy." Freddy mumbles.
"I hope you're right." Candice's voice softens ever so slightly and he hates it. "Really. You deserve a spot of good luck."
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The Palantine campaign headquarters are down town and to the left a bit. Freddy knows this because it's the one place in the city where the posters are unchanging, blown up large to span the length of the building. He knows the guy's face inside out despite never having seen him, or giving an honest shit about his face. But here he is.
People are always coming and going round here, so at first Freddy doesn't think much of the parking spot across the street, semi permanently occupied by a cab. He assumes it's a popular spot, always held on standby, but then he clocks that the same company always takes it, and then he clocks that the same guy is always driving.
And then, fuck him sideways why dontcha? He clocks that the guy in the driver's seat is Travis.
He looks gaunt and ghostly compared to when they last saw each other. The dark circles under his eyes pick put the lines of his skull with eerie clarity. The shag of his hair and the clean lines of his shoulders leave him looking handsome in a way he never had when he and Freddy worked together but there's something missing behind his eyes, moreso than usual. He doesn't look entirely human.
Freddy keeps coming by, just to see if he'll be recognised. Travis only has eyes for something inside the building though. He doesn't notice the skinny little down and out wrapped up in an anorak twice the size of himself, huddled on the corner. Forever cold.
Re: Sport/Orange - shady skeevey stuff - 15/?
Pimps, made guys, second in commands who are willing to take the plunge and carve up a little piece of territory for themselves. "The only girls still working are the ones up on ninety second street." Candice tells him. She's young, but still older than Freddy, and tall in her high heels. She has an Adam's apple and her voice is kinda weird for a lady but she seems nice enough "Iris will walk these streets come rain or shine."
"You know Iris?" Freddy asks, leaning up against the wall, just outside the penumbra of light coming down from the street light she's using to make this corner her stage.
Iris snorts, rolls her eyes. "Everybody knows Iris. Prettiest little filly in Sport's whole stable."
Freddy winces at the mention of Sport and Candice notices. She eyes him up, carefully. "I mean, you're kinda gross right now, no offence. But I can see why he would have tried to headhunt you."
"I'm not gonna work for that guy." Freddy mumbles.
"I hope you're right." Candice's voice softens ever so slightly and he hates it. "Really. You deserve a spot of good luck."
-----------------------
The Palantine campaign headquarters are down town and to the left a bit. Freddy knows this because it's the one place in the city where the posters are unchanging, blown up large to span the length of the building. He knows the guy's face inside out despite never having seen him, or giving an honest shit about his face. But here he is.
People are always coming and going round here, so at first Freddy doesn't think much of the parking spot across the street, semi permanently occupied by a cab. He assumes it's a popular spot, always held on standby, but then he clocks that the same company always takes it, and then he clocks that the same guy is always driving.
And then, fuck him sideways why dontcha? He clocks that the guy in the driver's seat is Travis.
He looks gaunt and ghostly compared to when they last saw each other. The dark circles under his eyes pick put the lines of his skull with eerie clarity. The shag of his hair and the clean lines of his shoulders leave him looking handsome in a way he never had when he and Freddy worked together but there's something missing behind his eyes, moreso than usual. He doesn't look entirely human.
Freddy keeps coming by, just to see if he'll be recognised. Travis only has eyes for something inside the building though. He doesn't notice the skinny little down and out wrapped up in an anorak twice the size of himself, huddled on the corner. Forever cold.