Oh hello there!
Quite obviously new! And I do not come empty handed. Oh no, no, no! I come with a fic, even if it may not be my best piece.
I've been watching Reservoir Dogs for about a year now, so that's at least 3 times a week! At least...
Enjoy.
“So we were off down the road, over a fence and round the back of this old shop,” Brown says around a cigarette, gesturing madly with his free hand and jiggling his legs to his own rhythm. “No idea where, with the banks money nicely tucked into our bag. There’s sirens and shouting and this fucking old man by me -I forget his name now- anyway, he’s all in my ear ‘Oh god we’re screwed, we’re screwed’ and y’know that’s not exactly the best thing to hear in times of crisis,” he rants and ignores the snort from Pink, blowing smoke into his face as he continues. “So there we were, panting our fucking heads off, the old man in my ear, the sirens getting louder and just as I see a fucking cop poking his head around the corner.. I realise where we are!” A dramatic pause as Pink, White and Orange stare at him, all wearing smirks; but the silence drags on and Brown doesn’t even blink, eventually Pink sighs loudly and concedes.
“And that would be?”
“In the fucking car park! I turn around, grab the old man and there’s my car! Right there, where I left it that morning!” he shouts and laughs to himself, slapping his thigh as White gives a low chuckle. No one even noticing Orange; quiet and observing all in the corner of the booth, sharing his attention between the three criminals. The silence drags on as Brown’s laughs die down, the thigh slapping stops and Pink is still staring at him with shocking blue eyes.
“You pissing liar!” he shouts, pointing at Brown as he does so. Brown is laughing again and White joins in, giving Orange beside him a nudge with his shoulder and he smiles weakly.
He knows Whites watching beside him, laughing all the same but keeping his eye on him all the time.
“I am not!” Brown shouts but White doesn’t turn, and it’s starting to unnerve him. He resists the urge to look, only the older man keeps the contact by his side in the crowded booth.
“You fucking liar Brown.” Pink mutters over the top of his glass before taking a large swig.
“Gods honour that’s what happened.” he holds a hand up in a sort of oath, wide eyes as the corners of his mouth turn upwards.
“Bullshit.”
He knows White isn’t listening, he knows what White is doing and it’s scaring the shit out of him. Everyone is sharing stories of robberies and murder and here he is, in the middle with fuck all to say; and White knows.
White fucking knows.
“Hey kid,” the older man to his side mutters, waiting until he turns to face him. His mother always used to say he was a crap liar, that it was written all over his face; he hopes she was lying, that he’s grown out of it, that it’s something mothers say.
“Yeah?” he murmurs and considers how hard it is to make eye contact, to someone like White who sees right through him... who seems to read his soul with a glance.
“Y’right? You aint talked in ages,” he says gruffly and gives him another nudge, and he smiles because it makes things easier and stops White looking at him like he’s a puppy or something.
“I don’t do stories,” he mutters, keeping his eyes on Brown and Pink as they talk animatedly; throwing their arms around but White won’t take his eyes off him, and he sees his concentration on him still.
“Really,” he says and nods, he doesn’t sound convinced in the least and he’s leaning into him with a whispered voice even as Brown bellows louder. “Or you don’t do stories with people you don’t trust?”
“No, no nothing like that,” he says quickly, shaking his head and quickly adding. “It’s just, when I tell a story it comes out like a bunch of balls. I can’t tell stories, end of.” he says and can hear the stifled giggle beside him, and he’s still too close.
“Go on,” White teases and keeps close to him still, jumping back when Pink slams his hand on the table; both turn to face him and see Brown is wrinkling his sizable forehead.
“It was fucking 1974!” Pink shouts with a hint of exasperation in his voice, pleading almost for agreement.
“76, fuck sake!” he shouts back, the two send each other back into a mini argument as White turns back to him, not letting up still as he leans back in and waits.
“Like what?”
“Something funny; and you really wanna impress me, add some drugs in there.” White says leaning back out, giving him time to think.
He isn’t funny, he knows he isn’t; too much time on his own reading comics and watching chat shows, he doesn’t feel comfortable around such a group and he hasn’t been one for anecdotes (That is, the unscripted ones.) The one story he has is years old, back at college. The one person he really spoke to, Todd, or Rod or Rudolph for all it matters.
“Right,” he says after White’s stares are making him fidget and he can’t pretend to listen to Brown talk shit no longer. “Okay, fine. The first and only year I went to college, I was sharing this room with a hippy guy. And I mean total hippy; with the long hair, and the riots and calling everyone ‘Man.’ all the time.” he turns to White and the old man nods, a ghostly smile on his lips. “So I was stuck with him for a year; well, I find out he’s a complete stoner, always out of his tree,” he says with a smirk, White nods in understanding and lets the small smile grow faintly.
“Not so bad then.”
“Exactly my thinking, so we talk and as long as I say ‘Groovy’ or ‘Dude’ every couple of minutes he thinks I’m his best friend,” he says and can’t help the little shiver that runs up his spine as White laughs. “And best friends get joints y’know?” It’s quieter than before, to the table instead of White as he tries not to think too much on the tightening knot in his stomach. “So for the best part of the year I’m stoned out of my head, I don’t even remember the summer actually...”
“Go on,” he says in his ear in a low tone, and the shivers just keep coming and the story is slipping away with every moment he stops and thinks about the dip in his stomach.
“So, it must of been the end of the year actually as I got some big-ass essay to do in three days; so naturally I’m panicking, I mean y’would if you met my dad. So I rush into our dorm and trip right over my little green peace pal, he’s on the floor,” Muttered again as he tries to think of the next bit, something is distracting him and he feels the need to move away from the older man beside him; somewhere along the line they’ve moved together and White is right beside his ear. “He’s drooling and snoring like a bitch, so I get up and shout and he just lies there drooling himself a river,” A laugh as he pauses again and moves a little away. “Aint till later that I see this as a problem; he’s putting me off, and the fact that he’s got a big bag of pot on the floor by him isn’t helping either.”
“So you take it?”
“Obviously,” Another laugh and he starts to enjoy the story, the attention that lands solely on him and him alone. “So, all in all; I quite like my stoner friend, and his drugs,”
“He comes in handy.” They both laugh now and he feels himself relaxing a little too much into the booth as White’s shoulder overlaps his own. A quick look to Brown and Pink and they’re laughing, joking together and ignoring the two in the corner.
“Oh yes, so the essay is forgotten along with everything else even remotely related to college.” He shifts and gives a glance to White, seeing the older man grinning at him as the story gets good and the warmth drenches through his back plesantly. “I don’t see him again for a couple of days, but he wasn’t doing his usual protests or hugging any trees or shit. He was beating the fuck out of this guy, I mean like ape style; beating him to a bloody pulp,”
“Why?”
“’Cos he thinks this guy stole his pot! So obviously the next person he’s gonna get is me, and I’m telling you after what I just saw I aint gonna be seen! So I grab a little plastic bag from his room, like they’re everywhere anyways so I take one and grab a bunch of moss-” White laughs so hard he feels his chest moving under his back, making him smile and turn on the older man to see him.
“A bunch of moss?” he says between giggles, looking at him so trustingly that he feels a twinge of guilt. He’s hooked, he’s believing every word that spills out of his mouth! And it gives him a buzz, a quick adrenaline boost to know he did that, he conned the man before him; he’s just that good.
“A bunch of moss from our windowsill, right on the wall; grind it all up and throw it in the bag, and I mean I throw myself on my bed and wait.” he says and giggles to himself, turning again to see White grinning at him again with the same look on his face; and he wishes he had never started this stupid story.
“He comes up?” White says and he realises he’s been staring at the older man for too long, jerking his eyes away quickly.
“Naturally,” he says with a cough and plays with the beer mat before him. “You can be sure if there’s a chance for something to go wrong, it will do! So he comes in and before he can speak I go ‘Oh dude’, cos y’know when he’s around I act all spaced out. So I’m like ‘Dude, I found this.’ and pull the moss out,”he says and White laughs, leaning his nose into his hair; and it’s comfortable until the Freddy side of Mr. Orange comes out and sets off some alarm bells, causing him to lean a little forward with the excuse of grabbing his forgotten drink. “and he’s like ‘Oh dude, thanks man.’ and he takes it and I just go back to my book.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that, then he throws me a spliff and he’s all how I’m great and how I saved his afternoon. So there we are smoking moss, and I know were smoking moss and there I am pretending like I’m stoned.” he stops to laugh and set down his drink, he’s got White‘s attention and he knows he‘s buying every word. “But there he is going ‘This is good shit,’ and making out like he’s spacing out on the floor.”
“Yeah?” White asks and he nods, feeling the other laugh behind him until he calms slowly and leans into him more. “People will believe anything if you make it sound convincing enough!”
And he stops, everything stops and he thinks for a moment that White knows but White can’t know ‘cos White is all over him, he likes him and he would of blown his brains out by now if he even suspected he was a snitch. And he’s looking at the older man now and he knows he doesn’t know, but his heart is still going like a rabbit and he can see White frown and look at him like he’s ill.
“You alright?” White asks and he wants to say no, wants to tell him everything; he wants to warn him and shock him at the same time. But he can’t and he knows he won’t, so he just nods and smiles and leans a little into the bigger chest behind him.
“Oi! White, Orange! We’re leaving!” Pink shouts back and he automatically moves away; when did they leave?
He downs the rest of his drink in one as White puts a hand between his shoulder blades and makes to leave.