OOM:
No, we're going to settle this the right way. The way two men would settle this sort of thing back in the old days of chivalry.All Matt wanted was a nice couple of rounds of racquetball to get that weird New Year's experience off his mind. He's got the grungy sweatshirt, the natty basketball shorts, the lucky shoes, even his own racquet. Even
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"Didn't I tell you?"
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And just to be on the safe side, he casts about for the girl who attached herself to him before. Nowhere in sight -- okay.
"You think we can play here, or are we just dressed up like a pair of guys from Hollywood?"
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"Do I think we can play in a bar? I think people might get upset when the ball flies into their drinks, but if you really want to try..."
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He ventures forward to see if he can find a window. Surely they're still kind of in California, right? It's probably--
"It's winter out there." It's true -- there's white stuff all over the ground. And frankly, Matt doesn't know whether to feel giddy or revolted.
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One way or another, there's one of Los Angeles's finest staring, staring-
Oh my god. LA People..
It's not the psychicness. After a while, when you live in LA as long as Matt has, you recognize your own kind.
He's shutting up and making himself not noticed. He might have driven past them at some point. Pulled them over (god forbid) or stood outside places.
He's hopefully lucky. Most People never notice cops. Even ones wearing shirts that say "LAPD" across the top.
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Matthew Albie, for one, is quite fond of law enforcement. He knows these guys have a thankless job, and that they're really quite helpful, if you just know how not to piss them off. Which isn't always easy when you drive a silver convertible, but Matt likes to think he's smooth every once in a while.
"Hang on a second," he says to Danny, and hurries to catch up with the man. "Excuse me, officer! I think we're a bit lost -- is there a court somewhere close by we could grab?"
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Are we at all close to Southcoast plaza?
Imma lookin' for ur-ur- The Hollywood Sign?
Matt is practiced at giving directions. In this case, an eyebrow goes up and he stares intently, "Um-"
Bar does not have courts.
"...I think-the bar doesn't have any." If they were buy the precinct he'd direct you to their gym. Alas they're not. Woes."
"You could try playing outside." If you've got a death wish..
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