GFFFF, going back under anon so the meme doesn't start marking extraneous comments as spam. Edit!fail attempt is fail. Putting this up in mah journal, so if you want the shiny polished version it'll be there (eventually, haha). CRIPES but this fill is getting long. D:

(Just watched 'Border' with Jack Nicholson and Harvey Keitel and OMFG WHY IS KEITEL SUCH A BABE ALL OF THE TIME. There's a line where his character is trying to persuade Jack's character and he's all "I'll fight ya, I'll fuck ya, just tell me what to do so we can be friends" and EVERY CELL IN MY BODY GAVE AN INTERESTED LURCH FORWARD.) /not even sorry

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Seven thou in take-away was cause for celebration. After the Cabot's cut, Orange had five grand to split between them; and he insisted, because how else was White going to pay his rent and eat? Cars were usually a lot harder to get away with in that either their alarms were set or their owners would notice the theft right away. They'd lucked out finding one left in a garage by happenstance of vacation, though White never doubted Orange having done his homework weeks beforehand.

Two and a half K to go into the evidence vault until the end of the trial, and then the city would absorb it and spread it out like rain. A penny to everyone.

That didn't stop White from celebrating with the rest of the boys, hardly denting the allowance the L.A. precinct had siphoned for 'illicit transactions'. The paperwork on undercover expenditures was a nightmare. Did hookers and blow go under utility and grocery? Was booze a miscellaneous or an extraneous? None of it was Larry's money.

If it were Larry's money, he'd forego the blow and buy Orange a nice Philly style steak, nothing like the dry anemic slabs ground up for chilli meat hereabouts. It was a heartbeat later that White realized wanting to take the guy out for steak was a little too... something. Stupid. Gay. A little too much like a waste of time. He had to work on the other suspects, maybe catch what info slipped out between the cursing and the cat-calling.

Nothing doing. These joeys were professional bullshitters and breeze-shooters, pool sharkers and sweet-talkers. The dive was crowded -- and it was a dive, windowless and half a floor underground, hot and damp and full to pressing from brick wall to brick wall. Men and women lost their shirts on the dance floor, a bare tit disappeared behind a large ringed hand, and by the time the knife-fight broke out Orange had already seized Eddie's elbow and steered him toward the back exit.

The rest of the boys followed piecemeal, Blonde enigmatic and unaffected at Eddie's side while Pink and Brown hassled Blue into letting his 'date' get back to serving the drinks so they could get the fuck out of there before the cops showed up. White lent a shoulder to keeping Pink away from the curb; he'd hit the juice pretty hard claiming it made him ace at pool, shooting in an altered state of consciousness with ninja-like precision. Or some shit.