It turns out that the wad of bills in his bag will buy Freddy more than enough coffee to keep the waitresses happy with him. And pancakes, and bacon. It's not like he's never been able to do this under Sport, but generally speaking he didn't. They were always trying not to push their luck, not to piss him off. Saving up goodwill for some mystery future act of rebellion that never seemed to come.
On second thoughts, maybe Iris was right.
The door of the diner clicks open not a minute after ten and Larry comes through, dressed in a white tshirt with his cigarettes rolled up into his sleeves, his hair slicked back tight enough that he might have used an extra half can of grease that morning.
Freddy smiles and waves him over, laughing to himself when Larry fails to wipe the look of grim determination off his face as he strides across the floor.
He doesn't laugh for long. More guys pile in after Larry, trailing after him like a string of ducklings. Which is weird enough in and of itself without Freddy recognising every last one of them.
"What the shit?" Freddy feels more than a little outnumbered, looking up at the assembled ranks of Larry, Brown, Pink, Blue and Vic Vega. Aside from Larry, they're all dressed up in black suits like they're on their way to a funeral.
"Freddy." Larry says with a clinical calmness that doesn't match the murder writ large in his eyes. "You mind stepping outside for a minute?"
Freddy doesn't want to go anywhere with him looking like that.
"Jeez, White. You're scaring the kid." Pink frowns at Larry. "Listen, Freddy, your benefactor here has an idea that he might be able to help you out of a sticky situation, and we gotta talk to you about it some place where we don't have the attention of the entire room cramping our style. Capice?"
Sure enough, when Freddy looks up and around the room, pretty much everyone is eyeing the group of overdressed ex-cons warily or straight up gawping.
It's Larry, he figures. And Brown and Pink and Blue and what the fuck is going on there? The only one of these guys who he's got any worries about is Vic Vega and the guys less of an issue when he's not the only threat staring you down.
Freddy nods, pays up, and follows them out to the corner, where Larry whips out his pack of cigarettes and insists they all take one. Make it look real casual, just a bunch of guys having a smoke and shooting the shit.
Or not. "What the fuck happened to you guys?" Freddy asks, far too loudly, just as soon as he's got Brown, Blue and Pink in his sights.
Blue shrugs. "What do you think? The cops took down this one's," He elbows Brown roughly in the side. "Shady operation and they scooped us up with him. You were lucky not to get caught up in that."
"Yeah, we'll see about that." Larry mutters.
"They barely had shit on me anyway." Brown snaps, defensive. "See, Orange, you might not have known this but I was on the hook for some shit with the Cabots. Cooking the books and all that shit. But the dumb fucks of the NYPD let the evidence burn along with all my stock, and I gotta say I'm still sore about losing all that, still trying to pick myself back up. Anyway they couldn't get me on anything because all their evidence against me was word of mouth circumstantial bullshit."
"And we were just pulled along for the ride." Pink explains. "They let me and Blue out within twenty four hours. Brown was back on the streets in a week. Been wondering what happened to you."
The words make a sick sort of sense but Freddy can't feel them settling into place inside his stupid thick skull. It was all fine. All fucking fine. He could have met up with them all within a week if he had any inclination to go check out their old haunts. The bars, the cinemas, fucking sixty fourth street. And what did he go and get himself into?
The news that Brown, Blue and Pink is evidently supposed to be exciting to him, but it's hard to be excited when he's staked most every decision he's made since he turned away from Wacko Comics on the premise that they were all locked up and lost. He smiles, weakly. "So, what are you all doing here?"
Everyone turns to Larry, who pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his back pocket and makes a show of sliding them on one handed. "You know why we're here, Freddy."
"Yeah, well what if you gotta spell it out for me?"
Silence while Larry fiddles with his very much lit cigarette, the cogs in his brain whirring visibly as he tries to articulate what he intends to do whilst still allowing the rest of them a measure of plausible deniability. He's wearing high topped boots, which look at odds with the rather drab attire he's otherwise wearing, though nowhere near as ostentatious as the cowboy boots Vic has on. Freddy's seen Sport shake down guys who come by wearing boots. You gotta watch out for them, for the shit they try to smuggle into the rooms. You can hide a weapon real easy in a big enough boot.
Vic is the one who bails Larry out. "My friend, Mr White here, says that you've been having trouble with a guy who I'm not much fond of. So he asked if I would help him get you away from him. These guys owed someone a favour."
"I owe White about half a dozen favours." Blue drawls, flashing Larry a smile like this is an inconvenience he's more than willing to play nice about.
Of course that's why they're fucking here. Freddy lets out a bark of laughter that's tense and drained and has to shove his hand into his mouth to stop himself from running away with it. He's thinking about blood and pink curtains, about the delineating line of a mohawk.
"The fuck were you doing at that party the other week if you hate the guy so much?" Freddy asks, looking at Vic because it's easier.
Vic shrugs. "Him and his people have been rising, figured I'd at least make use of their facilities if they were rolling out the welcome wagon for me. I never signed no contract." He spits, landing just close enough to Pink's shoe to earn him a filthy look in return.
"Wait, hold up. What party?" Brown asks, eyeing up the two of them like they've been keeping secrets. "Orange doesn't party."
Vic levels a cool stare at him. "You don't got a fucking clue what Orange does or does not do."
Freddy winces at the implication, subtle, but not so much that Pink and Blue don't have a pretty good idea what he's angling at if the alarmed looks they flash him are anything to go by. Brown remains hopelessly oblivious.
"Listen, guys- Listen!" Freddy barks, before Brown can get too carried away. "I appreciate you coming out today, and you calling in all those favours, Larry. But you're wasting your time."
"Like fuck I am." Larry growls. He steps forward, close enough to grab Freddy by the scruff of the neck and it feels like his eyes are plastered to Freddy's lips. "We're getting you out of here, today. No ifs ands or buts and we're taking care of your little problem so you don't gotta worry about what him or his people might do to me or you for the trouble. And enough with the Christian names, kid. Call me White till this is all over."
"Yeah, ok, White, that's great and all." Freddy carefully extracts himself from the guy's grip. "But you really don't gotta do this shit."
"I'm telling you-"
"He's dead, Larry."
Silence. Confusion. "You fucking what?"
"Last night, guy came by and shot up the place. He caught a bullet in the gut."
Larry's eyebrows fly towards his hairline as Vic starts to laugh. "You ain't shitting us, right Orange?"
"I still got the guy's blood between my toes if you need some proof." Freddy tells him, and this time his smile feels real. Real and firm and fucking weird.
The suits seem really fucking dumb in the wake of this news, made real by Freddy's tongue finding the power to wrap around the words and give them life. He's dead. Dead and gone.
And Iris is gone too. Freddy looks to Brown, Blue and Pink, lined up on the sidewalk like a group of kids who can't wait to get out of their uniforms. He owes it to her, he supposes, to at least try to find her. Even if all he finds is that she's been sent beyond the system to where she can't be touched by him or any man.
She probably deserves it, though he doubts she'd see things that way.
Larry's hand finds it's way back to Freddy's shoulder, slow and careful, trying to parse out new information. He's not needed here. The best thing he can do is take Freddy home and tell him to get a proper job.
"Well." Blue sighs, raising his eyes towards the heavens. "That's one less thing we gotta deal with."
"Yeah." Freddy grins at him. "You can say that again."
Re: Sport/Orange - shady skeevey stuff - 34/?
On second thoughts, maybe Iris was right.
The door of the diner clicks open not a minute after ten and Larry comes through, dressed in a white tshirt with his cigarettes rolled up into his sleeves, his hair slicked back tight enough that he might have used an extra half can of grease that morning.
Freddy smiles and waves him over, laughing to himself when Larry fails to wipe the look of grim determination off his face as he strides across the floor.
He doesn't laugh for long. More guys pile in after Larry, trailing after him like a string of ducklings. Which is weird enough in and of itself without Freddy recognising every last one of them.
"What the shit?" Freddy feels more than a little outnumbered, looking up at the assembled ranks of Larry, Brown, Pink, Blue and Vic Vega. Aside from Larry, they're all dressed up in black suits like they're on their way to a funeral.
"Freddy." Larry says with a clinical calmness that doesn't match the murder writ large in his eyes. "You mind stepping outside for a minute?"
Freddy doesn't want to go anywhere with him looking like that.
"Jeez, White. You're scaring the kid." Pink frowns at Larry. "Listen, Freddy, your benefactor here has an idea that he might be able to help you out of a sticky situation, and we gotta talk to you about it some place where we don't have the attention of the entire room cramping our style. Capice?"
Sure enough, when Freddy looks up and around the room, pretty much everyone is eyeing the group of overdressed ex-cons warily or straight up gawping.
It's Larry, he figures. And Brown and Pink and Blue and what the fuck is going on there? The only one of these guys who he's got any worries about is Vic Vega and the guys less of an issue when he's not the only threat staring you down.
Freddy nods, pays up, and follows them out to the corner, where Larry whips out his pack of cigarettes and insists they all take one. Make it look real casual, just a bunch of guys having a smoke and shooting the shit.
Or not. "What the fuck happened to you guys?" Freddy asks, far too loudly, just as soon as he's got Brown, Blue and Pink in his sights.
Blue shrugs. "What do you think? The cops took down this one's," He elbows Brown roughly in the side. "Shady operation and they scooped us up with him. You were lucky not to get caught up in that."
"Yeah, we'll see about that." Larry mutters.
"They barely had shit on me anyway." Brown snaps, defensive. "See, Orange, you might not have known this but I was on the hook for some shit with the Cabots. Cooking the books and all that shit. But the dumb fucks of the NYPD let the evidence burn along with all my stock, and I gotta say I'm still sore about losing all that, still trying to pick myself back up. Anyway they couldn't get me on anything because all their evidence against me was word of mouth circumstantial bullshit."
"And we were just pulled along for the ride." Pink explains. "They let me and Blue out within twenty four hours. Brown was back on the streets in a week. Been wondering what happened to you."
The words make a sick sort of sense but Freddy can't feel them settling into place inside his stupid thick skull. It was all fine. All fucking fine. He could have met up with them all within a week if he had any inclination to go check out their old haunts. The bars, the cinemas, fucking sixty fourth street. And what did he go and get himself into?
The news that Brown, Blue and Pink is evidently supposed to be exciting to him, but it's hard to be excited when he's staked most every decision he's made since he turned away from Wacko Comics on the premise that they were all locked up and lost. He smiles, weakly. "So, what are you all doing here?"
Everyone turns to Larry, who pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his back pocket and makes a show of sliding them on one handed. "You know why we're here, Freddy."
"Yeah, well what if you gotta spell it out for me?"
Silence while Larry fiddles with his very much lit cigarette, the cogs in his brain whirring visibly as he tries to articulate what he intends to do whilst still allowing the rest of them a measure of plausible deniability. He's wearing high topped boots, which look at odds with the rather drab attire he's otherwise wearing, though nowhere near as ostentatious as the cowboy boots Vic has on. Freddy's seen Sport shake down guys who come by wearing boots. You gotta watch out for them, for the shit they try to smuggle into the rooms. You can hide a weapon real easy in a big enough boot.
Vic is the one who bails Larry out. "My friend, Mr White here, says that you've been having trouble with a guy who I'm not much fond of. So he asked if I would help him get you away from him. These guys owed someone a favour."
"I owe White about half a dozen favours." Blue drawls, flashing Larry a smile like this is an inconvenience he's more than willing to play nice about.
Of course that's why they're fucking here. Freddy lets out a bark of laughter that's tense and drained and has to shove his hand into his mouth to stop himself from running away with it. He's thinking about blood and pink curtains, about the delineating line of a mohawk.
"The fuck were you doing at that party the other week if you hate the guy so much?" Freddy asks, looking at Vic because it's easier.
Vic shrugs. "Him and his people have been rising, figured I'd at least make use of their facilities if they were rolling out the welcome wagon for me. I never signed no contract." He spits, landing just close enough to Pink's shoe to earn him a filthy look in return.
"Wait, hold up. What party?" Brown asks, eyeing up the two of them like they've been keeping secrets. "Orange doesn't party."
Vic levels a cool stare at him. "You don't got a fucking clue what Orange does or does not do."
Freddy winces at the implication, subtle, but not so much that Pink and Blue don't have a pretty good idea what he's angling at if the alarmed looks they flash him are anything to go by. Brown remains hopelessly oblivious.
"Listen, guys- Listen!" Freddy barks, before Brown can get too carried away. "I appreciate you coming out today, and you calling in all those favours, Larry. But you're wasting your time."
"Like fuck I am." Larry growls. He steps forward, close enough to grab Freddy by the scruff of the neck and it feels like his eyes are plastered to Freddy's lips. "We're getting you out of here, today. No ifs ands or buts and we're taking care of your little problem so you don't gotta worry about what him or his people might do to me or you for the trouble. And enough with the Christian names, kid. Call me White till this is all over."
"Yeah, ok, White, that's great and all." Freddy carefully extracts himself from the guy's grip. "But you really don't gotta do this shit."
"I'm telling you-"
"He's dead, Larry."
Silence. Confusion. "You fucking what?"
"Last night, guy came by and shot up the place. He caught a bullet in the gut."
Larry's eyebrows fly towards his hairline as Vic starts to laugh. "You ain't shitting us, right Orange?"
"I still got the guy's blood between my toes if you need some proof." Freddy tells him, and this time his smile feels real. Real and firm and fucking weird.
The suits seem really fucking dumb in the wake of this news, made real by Freddy's tongue finding the power to wrap around the words and give them life. He's dead. Dead and gone.
And Iris is gone too. Freddy looks to Brown, Blue and Pink, lined up on the sidewalk like a group of kids who can't wait to get out of their uniforms. He owes it to her, he supposes, to at least try to find her. Even if all he finds is that she's been sent beyond the system to where she can't be touched by him or any man.
She probably deserves it, though he doubts she'd see things that way.
Larry's hand finds it's way back to Freddy's shoulder, slow and careful, trying to parse out new information. He's not needed here. The best thing he can do is take Freddy home and tell him to get a proper job.
"Well." Blue sighs, raising his eyes towards the heavens. "That's one less thing we gotta deal with."
"Yeah." Freddy grins at him. "You can say that again."