contact;

[pinkeffinprofessional]

If you don't know who the fuck you're trying to reach, then hang up the fucking phone. If not, leave a message. Try to make it snappy, will you?

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Comments

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[It is a truly sad fucking day when Mr. Pink is glad to see Mr. White. He releases an inhale of frozen breath]

Shit, hey, White.

[He doesn't radiate save me yet, but its close]

How you doing?

[newendyked.livejournal.com]

White.

[He greets in a cool fashion. Maybe Pink can feel a literal frost between them, not icy per se, maybe more like cold iron.]

[whitetwoguns]

What the fuck are you shits doing out here?

[Calm enough to fake a grin. Okay part of it is how he can see Pink straining over something. The kid...erm man got to him. Inhale of his Chesterfield. Don't look too long, Dimmy.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[He shrugs]

I was just going for a fucking drink.

[Son of a bitch. That's all he wanted, damn it.]

[newendyked.livejournal.com]

[Freddy hooks a thumb at Pink.] He acts like he can't do shit without you around.

[Another implication; he guesses Larry got to him first. Was that necessary, Dimick?]

[whitetwoguns]

You know, Pink. He's pulling your chain.

[Eyes on you, weasel. He's trying to save your ass. Fucking take a hint and roll with it, won't you?

Based on this interaction aftermath alone, yeah. He sure did need to get to him first.]

I dunno about you [that's to both of them] but I could go for a drink too.

[He moves on a few more steps.]

Coming?

[Maybe alcohol will be the great equalizer.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[Weasel takes a breath]

You sure you still don't want to go?

[Come on, Mr. Orange. Be fucking cool.]

[newendyked.livejournal.com]

[What the fuck is this. Are they in league with each other? He should have known. Mr. White can't leave him alone, can't live and let live, let him sort out his own strange divergent past. Caramel green eyes sharpen from one man to the other, then he turns on his heel to leave.]

Fuck it.

[whitetwoguns]

[Is this fucking real? Both large hands spread with the cigarette between his lips like an exhaust pipe.]

What the fuck happened here?

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Nothing! Nothing happened!

[Pink is fumbling for his own cigarette. Fuck. Fuck what the fuck.]

[newendyked.livejournal.com]

[You guys have fun trying to figure it out. He's not staying for the conversation. He doesn't want to hear what they have to say about him.]

[whitetwoguns]

[What is this? What the fuck is this even? The old man silently shakes his fists and tells Pink to fuck off. That's silent too, fist and arm the good old fashioned way. Don't worry, weasel. He'll gladly apologize. Right now things are so goddamn unstable he doesn't even know what to think.]

Orange, you going to turn down a drink?

[Because you know what? They're not gonna talk about bullshit.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[Pink grumbles and stamps his feet a little, shuffling to try to warm up, moving away a little, looking away.]

Fuck.

[newendyked.livejournal.com]

[This is probably the most young Freddy Newendyke Mr. Orange gesture he's done all day...instead of saying any more, he throws his middle finger over his shoulder.]