Post by Baby Jenks on Apr 25, 2016 20:42:35 GMT -5
The scene is cozy enough, two heads tipped towards each other over a melamine table, the yellowed lights of the dinner shining out into the dark, rainy night. A brunette woman with a "fuck with me, I dare you" jawline exchanges confidences with the man across from her, the same sort of trembling energy one finds in neurotic small dogs twanging through his narrower frame. Hooded eyelids drooping over the bloodshot orbs beneath, he eyes his companion as she sets her mug down.
The chipped mugs matching the dull, scratched tabletop and cheap vinyl upholstering, the woman stares at the oily sheen swirling on the surface of the murky black coffee.
"One job down, one to go."
"The List, or PCW?"
"The List is done for today. You were with me, remember?"
He shudders, disgust crossing his face. "I remember. I'm gonna have nightmares. You didn't need to do that to his arm."
She regards him with a predatory calm mixed with total apathy. "He was on the List."
"Yeah yeah, your list. Fine. What're you yammering on about PCW?"
"I got another match, which is good. Regular paychecks are nice, and sis ain't exactly rollin' in the green these days. A lot of her side operations have fallen through. Too much bullshit with PCW goin' on."
"So who is it?"
She shrugs. "Some kid named Terrence 'The Real Thing' Brown. I don't get the call name though. Sure, he has a boring ass real name, but 'The Real Thing'? Are we supposed to believe someone wanted to be him so bad he has to clarify which fuckin' one he is?"
"People call you Baby Jenks. That's not any better."
"Fuck off, Rodric."
"I TOLD YOU MY NAME IS SKETCH, AND I'M TIRED OF -"
"OI!" The voice cracks across the diner, immediately silencing the building. Less hellfire and brimstone, more 40 years of Lucky Strikes and exactly no time for your shit. "There's no yellin' in here. Calm it down or take it outside. You two are on a date, shouldn't you be playing nice?"
The mousey haired man simpers, waving hesitantly. "Sorry, sorry. Just, you know. Trouble in Paradise."
"Yeah, well keep it outta my restaurant."
Jenks smirks into her mug. "I won the last one. Alexa and I just RUINED them, good stuff. I'll get this boy too. He's not as big and bad as all that, a few good hits and he'll go down like the rest. I could get mad at the booking since it's almost insulting, but fuck it."
He snickers. "Buttfuck it. You said buttfuck."
She glares across the table. "Get bent, weasel. Go have yourself a wank before you come talk to me, you're gross."
"You're only saying that because you like women."
"I don't like ANYONE. If I gotta get my rocks off I find a willing apparatus, do the thing, then go on my merry. I don't have time for that romance bullshit."
"You're charming."
"Better than some two bit addict trying to cling onto my fuckin' jacket."
He grumbles into his mug.
"What was that?"
"I said you're mean. You're always just so fucking mean to everyone."
"You gotta get 'em, Rodric. You gotta get 'em before they get you. It's the only way to survive down here."
"Down where?"
"The bottom of the fucking barrel, you know, the gritty place we exist? I'm gonna haul someone down to my level soon, too."
"Terrence?"
"Nah, that kid is just a match. But this other motherfucker... nah, this one holds the honor of being the first one from PCW I've had to put on my List."
"That guy?"
"Yeah. Rick Majors. He got in my way too many times, I have no doubt he'll do it again. I don't know when he's coming back, but when he does, his bitchass is mine."
"But first Terrence?"
"Yeah. First, Terrence 'The Real Thing' Brown."
The chipped mugs matching the dull, scratched tabletop and cheap vinyl upholstering, the woman stares at the oily sheen swirling on the surface of the murky black coffee.
"One job down, one to go."
"The List, or PCW?"
"The List is done for today. You were with me, remember?"
He shudders, disgust crossing his face. "I remember. I'm gonna have nightmares. You didn't need to do that to his arm."
She regards him with a predatory calm mixed with total apathy. "He was on the List."
"Yeah yeah, your list. Fine. What're you yammering on about PCW?"
"I got another match, which is good. Regular paychecks are nice, and sis ain't exactly rollin' in the green these days. A lot of her side operations have fallen through. Too much bullshit with PCW goin' on."
"So who is it?"
She shrugs. "Some kid named Terrence 'The Real Thing' Brown. I don't get the call name though. Sure, he has a boring ass real name, but 'The Real Thing'? Are we supposed to believe someone wanted to be him so bad he has to clarify which fuckin' one he is?"
"People call you Baby Jenks. That's not any better."
"Fuck off, Rodric."
"I TOLD YOU MY NAME IS SKETCH, AND I'M TIRED OF -"
"OI!" The voice cracks across the diner, immediately silencing the building. Less hellfire and brimstone, more 40 years of Lucky Strikes and exactly no time for your shit. "There's no yellin' in here. Calm it down or take it outside. You two are on a date, shouldn't you be playing nice?"
The mousey haired man simpers, waving hesitantly. "Sorry, sorry. Just, you know. Trouble in Paradise."
"Yeah, well keep it outta my restaurant."
Jenks smirks into her mug. "I won the last one. Alexa and I just RUINED them, good stuff. I'll get this boy too. He's not as big and bad as all that, a few good hits and he'll go down like the rest. I could get mad at the booking since it's almost insulting, but fuck it."
He snickers. "Buttfuck it. You said buttfuck."
She glares across the table. "Get bent, weasel. Go have yourself a wank before you come talk to me, you're gross."
"You're only saying that because you like women."
"I don't like ANYONE. If I gotta get my rocks off I find a willing apparatus, do the thing, then go on my merry. I don't have time for that romance bullshit."
"You're charming."
"Better than some two bit addict trying to cling onto my fuckin' jacket."
He grumbles into his mug.
"What was that?"
"I said you're mean. You're always just so fucking mean to everyone."
"You gotta get 'em, Rodric. You gotta get 'em before they get you. It's the only way to survive down here."
"Down where?"
"The bottom of the fucking barrel, you know, the gritty place we exist? I'm gonna haul someone down to my level soon, too."
"Terrence?"
"Nah, that kid is just a match. But this other motherfucker... nah, this one holds the honor of being the first one from PCW I've had to put on my List."
"That guy?"
"Yeah. Rick Majors. He got in my way too many times, I have no doubt he'll do it again. I don't know when he's coming back, but when he does, his bitchass is mine."
"But first Terrence?"
"Yeah. First, Terrence 'The Real Thing' Brown."
