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

[whitetwoguns]

He said the alarm was it.

[The cigarette between his fingers trails a veil of smoke as he waves the whole thing off.]

We're not gonna even give possible reasons.

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Yeah, that's right. The alarm.

[There's a tone that says 'bullshit']

[whitetwoguns]

His story is his story.

[Don't make it true or believable. There we go. Would have been so fucking great if Pink had taken his side from the start. Woulda, coulda, shoulda...]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[Okay let's not talk about this anymore]

So what's the real deal, Mr. White?

[whitetwoguns]

How do you mean?

[pinkeffinprofessional]

I mean you gotta be pretty desperate if you're asking me to go drinking with you.

Not that I'm complaining.

[whitetwoguns]

No, I'm not. We don't go drinking enough it occurred to me.

[A long, long drink of his own drink.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Yeah?

[Cockroaches don't have tails but---no, no, he wouldn't be wagging. His eyebrows are halfway to his hairline though]

[whitetwoguns]

Yeah, Pink.

[They should stick together. Even if it ain't about the heist. Them against Blonde.]

You ain't never done wrong by me.

[And before he can give anything away on accident he admits begrudgingly for appearances...]

Even Orange.

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[He takes a drink.]

All right.