Carter calmly wandered down the steps, a hand lifted to tighten the black tie he'd found in the clothes bin. The selection of clothing had left much to be desired, but he'd hardly expected to find an Armani suit among the wreckage.
No, the plain, basic black slacks and white shirt would have to do. Carter adjusted his collar and then slid his hands into his pockets, blankly sizing the man up. "You know what they say. Idle hands are the devil's tools," he offered dryly as he took his sweet time lighting a 'borrowed' cigarette.
Jim raised a brow, smelling the faint scent of the cigarette. He looked up to see a suit type staring at him. Carter.
"I don't know what the fuck that means," he said, with a shrug. He eyed the cigarette for a moment. "Yo man, hit me up. I was fucking looking for a puff."
Carter took a deliberate drag, unwilling to offer up the quickly burning tobacco so lightly, and then turned the cigarette over between his fingers. The smoke expelled from his lungs took the shape of perfect rings as they rose.
"I'm sure you were, Jim. And I was looking for a pair of devil's tools to put to work," he replied with all the self-important patience of a man who always knows what you're looking for before you even do, and exactly where to find it. "I tell you what. You come help me move house and I'll make sure you get that puff, and then some."
"Bring some things to the caves for me," he replied matter-of-factly, taking another drag with no real intention of giving up this particular cigarette anytime soon.
But the implication that he'd get Jim his puff still remained. You didn't get to the top by making false promises. "I have a few tools in the storage room that I'll be needing in case a few of my clients don't pay up."
"Good," he gave a hint of sinister satisfaction and then clapped Jim paternally on the back.
"Follow me then," Carter replied before heading back into the compound and walking straight to the storage room. After opening the door, Carter propped it open and blew another steady stream of smoke before nodding inside. "There's a wheelbarrow," he said, and then pulled a neatly folded piece of paper form inside his pants pocket. "My shopping list, Jim," he replied, handing it over.
No, the plain, basic black slacks and white shirt would have to do. Carter adjusted his collar and then slid his hands into his pockets, blankly sizing the man up. "You know what they say. Idle hands are the devil's tools," he offered dryly as he took his sweet time lighting a 'borrowed' cigarette.
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"I don't know what the fuck that means," he said, with a shrug. He eyed the cigarette for a moment. "Yo man, hit me up. I was fucking looking for a puff."
Reply
"I'm sure you were, Jim. And I was looking for a pair of devil's tools to put to work," he replied with all the self-important patience of a man who always knows what you're looking for before you even do, and exactly where to find it. "I tell you what. You come help me move house and I'll make sure you get that puff, and then some."
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"What do you want me to do, then?" he asked.
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But the implication that he'd get Jim his puff still remained. You didn't get to the top by making false promises. "I have a few tools in the storage room that I'll be needing in case a few of my clients don't pay up."
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"Fuck, that all? Yeah, I'll do that for you," he agreed as he stood up. "Just show me the stuff you want me to move."
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"Follow me then," Carter replied before heading back into the compound and walking straight to the storage room. After opening the door, Carter propped it open and blew another steady stream of smoke before nodding inside. "There's a wheelbarrow," he said, and then pulled a neatly folded piece of paper form inside his pants pocket. "My shopping list, Jim," he replied, handing it over.
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"You're not fucking around with those clients, huh?" he asked, smirking as he grabbed the bungee cord.
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