(Untitled)

[bass_line_blues]

Preston's in the Wasteland, sitting on the stage and strumming his bass absently.

He's in a good mood. There are reasons for this.

. . . they don't have to do with the trial, which is taking its own sweet time about getting organized while the accused sit around in a basement and take up resources, but right now he's not thinking about that so

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[savethewolves]

Journey wanders in.

Journey wanders over to the stage.

Journey carefully and with great dignity lies on the stage and closes her eyes to listen to the music, smiling.

Pretty typical Journey.

[bass_line_blues]

". . . man, the ref for that game would be more dead than the guy in Bedknobs and Broomsticks."

(Preston knows a lot of kids' movies way too well. This happens, when you have lots of younger siblings.)

[savethewolves]

"Maybe Nicky could ref!"

Nicky's become something of a household name over the last three months, at least in the Pack HQ. You try to start a gang war, and this is what you get.

[bass_line_blues]

Preston snorts.

"Think that should be his sentence? It's kind of community service . . ."

[savethewolves]

"And no one'd mind if he ended up a little deader than when he started if he made a bad call, right?"

[bass_line_blues]

"Trouble is, no one'd ever trust the fucker to make any good calls, and without some kinda reliable authority we'd end up with the Great Chicago Gang War Version 2.0. I mean, you trust Chicago sports fans?"