"I wanna take you out on a date."

Orange swallows, nods. He plans to suck this guy's cock sometime during or after this 'date', even though he hardly knows him, doesn't even know his name.

"You like movies?" White laughs derisively. "Dumb question. Nerd like you, of course you like movies."


Orange wants to protest, since he was pretty sure he'd let out all the 'seedy drug dealer' and none of the 'hopeless sci-fi geek' when conversing with this man. Desperate to impress him. Oh, well, must have slipped up somewhere. It was easy to slip up, being so distracted.

White removes himself to the door. "C'mon, I'll take ya to a show."

Orange shakes his head. Right. He can't screw around like this, he's gotta make the report to Holdaway. "I can just blow you in your car, or somethin'. Or right here." He kicks a stall open, feeling badass and romantic.

White levels a stare that goes sad and fond for a moment, fists clenched in his pockets to keep his hands stubbornly to himself. His smile is tight and forced.

Orange is a little confused as to where he might have gone wrong, but shrugs it off. Probably a bad idea anyway, screwing around with a perp. Might spell trouble when this case got blown wide open and took to trial.

They leave the bar not long behind Papa Cabot and Nice Guy, but long enough for privacy. White's got his arm around Orange's waist, not even faking drunk. "Lemme take you out, just once."

"You already took me out, remember?" Orange shrugs away, clear-headed in the crisp desert night. "Took me clean the fuck out. Didn't even blink." The scrub and skeletal trees of the mountains stretch around them in all directions, patrons spilling from the bar in twos and threes. Orange heads for the Impala in the gravel parking lot.

Dazedly, White follows. "Kid," he slams Orange's door before he can get a shoulder in. "I don't know what you're talking about. We've only just met."

"Don't start that shit again." Orange snarls, and if it weren't such a heartbreak Larry would think Freddy was really attractive when he was mad. "There's nothing wrong with you. I'm the one with the scrambled brains over here, and you're just using that against me. All the time. It's sick, Larry, it's a sick fucking lie."

Here Lies Mr. Orange

All at once, White goes stormy. "You wanna talk about sick lies, tough guy? You really wanna go down that road with me tonight?"

"I was doing my job!"

"Yeah, that's right," Larry's voice is strained. "You were just doing the job. Our job. The heist. None of this was your fault."

Orange inhales sharp, exhales a smooth jet of smoke. There is no cigarette. "You're wrong, Larry. It's all my fault, all of it."

"It ain't." Larry's got him by the shoulders, rocking him against the car. "I said I'd look after you. No way in hell I'd ever break my word, baby, not to you, not ever." He holds Freddy's eyes for a long moment, long enough for the insects to start whining around their ears.

Orange huffs, defeated, knocking his forehead gently into White's. "We gotta meet up with Joe at the rendezvous. Guy named Mr. Black got brought in on the job soon as it went pear-shaped."

"Sure," White's hand massages firm and reassuring circles into Orange's shoulders. "Sure, we'll meet up with Joe. Tomorrow."