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]

No.

[And no. We're not gonna have to keep going. This is it. That's how he's answering it.]

Not anymore.

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[COCKROACH IS A COCKROACH]

Shit.

[whitetwoguns]

Don't tell Blonde or I'll kill you.

[As casual as can be now he sets his drink on the table and gets another cigarette.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Hey, I don't talk about you or Orange with Blonde. My conversations with Blonde don't involve anything of substance. The asshole is crazy.

[whitetwoguns]

[Attaboy, Pink. Redeem yourself in the next few seconds. Flick of his lighter.]

We could have told you that if you'd have listened.

[Buuut he didn't so.]

He's sure not to be trusted.

[Let's keep talking about that. Not Orange.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

I haven't given him his diamonds.

[whitetwoguns]

Hole it up. Keep it away. For the best, I think.

[Shit what a mess. He hasn't thought about the diamonds yet. For a man that ran on back to get them in the desert, he really has fallen on his own sword there.

Freddy's got no big reason now to keep loyalties, does he? No, old man. He wouldn't do that. Not here. And not like that. More booze and nicotine plz.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Yeah, well. Hopefully he forgets that shit.

[He takes a drink. He hopes Blonde forgets because Blonde probably wouldn't hesitate to kill Pink's cat, who guards the diamonds, as they are currently sitting under the floorboard where the cat's bed is on top of.]

[whitetwoguns]

He don't have a reason to remember. For all we know the diamonds are at the warehouse.

[The cat alone would keep Larry away. If it weren't for the cat, if it weren't for the fact that was their first apartment together, maybe the old man would crash there. Lucky for you, Pink.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

He didn't have a reason to kill the guards, either, and he fucking did that.

[Luckily it's too loud for anyone to hear this scintillating conversation.]

[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.