pinkeffinprofessional

[Freddy just makes a face again, dry sarcasm and a voiceless 'har dee fuckin' har' before he exhales. Shit he may as well have said "Yes. Mr. White did in fact break my face on his fist." Freddy coughs.]

Where's my ring.

Tell me what happened and I'll hand it over.

[What's this? Extortion? Well he is a criminal]

Hand it over and I'll tell you what happened.

[He echoes all the coolness.]

[This is his version of a Mexican Standoff - information, jewelry, and no fucking guns]

Guess I could call White.

[The wheels in his kid head are turning. If he calls White while he's there maybe he can figure out where Larry's gone off to. Look Freddy can play this game too.]

Do it.

[Of course even now Orange doesn't look too sure of himself. He averts his gaze to that fucking cat.]

[Cat looks unbothered. Pink picks up his cell phone and dials, but doesn't press the send button. See? He knows how cell phones work. He raises an eyebrow and sees the averted gaze]

Holy shit.

What, did you tell him you wanted to suck his fucking cock? I'm pretty sure he was in prison, that kind of shit shouldn't bother him.

[Is it possible to look red under bruises and cuts? Freddy just stares at Pink. Quick think fast kid.]

The hell is wrong with you, dude? [...Yep.]

I'm not the one who looks like their face met a wall about six times.

[This is one very long sip. Loooooooooong sip.]

What's it matter to you anyway.

Because White doesn't get fucking pissed for no reason. If he's willing to make you look like that, what the hell is he willing to do to me?

[This is about Pink, okay?]

[Here Freddy can't help but snort.]

I don't think you're gonna have a problem unless you're holding out, like you got the diamonds in your back pocket or whatever.

[Freddy's joking. Honest. He taps ash out on the nearest ash receptacle.]

[Note to self: never tell. Pink doesn't even blink.]

Do I look like a fucking moron?

[Freddy looks at the mangy fleabag then back at Pink. No words. Just a plume of smoke because making a smoke ring takes too much effort for his sore jaw.]

Whatever, asshole.

[He takes a swig of his beer]

So what were you holding out on?

[You think he didn't catch that?]

[Get the hell out, Mr. Pink. Freddy sips, what to do what to do what to say what to do what to say...]

I don't think he's gonna let me anywhere near his dick anytime soon.

[Wow you are so good at this Newendyke. Yep.]

[This is his apartment, Mr. Orange.]

Really?

That's it?

[He holds his tongue from asking "What's it?" because that would be a dead give away. Maybe if Freddy just rolls with this he won't have to say anything. The kid shrugs and looks away to nurse his beer.]

Okay, whatever. The ring's on the cat's collar.

[Although now it seems kind of cruel to make him get it, instead of funny]

[Really? He gives Pink another dry thoroughly unamused look. Well let Orange take his time finishing up the beer and cigarette first. He's not gonna go after the beast right away.]

[He takes a drink. Why didn't Orange just tell him that someone thought he was a vampire? At least that's an obvious lie. This one reeks of the truth enough to make it so that Pink is suspicious but unsure.]

Little hellbeast scratches like a bitch, too.

[Because there's a difference between telling lies to let someone know they aren't important or included and withholding information for deeply personal reasons, which he hopes Pink believes it's the latter. Freddy has self-preservation to consider.]

Sounds like it's definitely your cat.

That's why I like him.

[He rolls his eyes at that and with an empty beer on hand he has to push that away before sucking down the rest of his cigarette. Freddy looks at the cat, the battle begins.

Five minutes later he still hasn't gotten the ring.]

Will you just call the little bastard over? For fuck's sake. [Freddy's temper is flaring but not enough to hurt a stupid animal. It's all that pent up frustration coming to the forefront. He's not gonna say please he's not gonna say please he's not gonna let his eyes get greener from welling.]

[He watches this casually from his place on the couch]

He's not a fucking dog. He doesn't come when he's called.

[Freddy's dusting his knees off with his newly scratched hands before getting up on his feet.] You're an asshole. Keep the fuckin' ring, I'm outta here.

[He's got guns but he doesn't think to use them. That wouldn't be very sportsmanlike or very Freddy, ie. the inefficient way.]

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