It's not just a paycheck. It's earning enough time to live.
[The words snap out with more bitterness than he really means, but only because there's a chord in him that's been firmly struck. Sure, as a timekeeper, he's hated no matter what he does. That's the first thing any timekeeper learns their first year on the beat: their only real reward for doing their jobs right is little more than a pile of vitriol. But someone has to do it.]
Where I come from, the rules are different. If you're born in the wrong time zone, that's it, tough shit. You work and work and work just to live from one day to the next, and you do that until the day you die, whether it's because you weren't paying attention or your loans caught up to you or some thug on the street stole whatever minutes you had left. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it's always going to be.
[He stops himself then, realizes he's letting his grip on himself get a little too slack. He leans back a bit more, lets his shoulders relax, and sighs.]The only way for a kid
( ... )
His ego doesn't need more people pissin' themselves.
[Part of Orange is pretty sure Blonde doesn't have too much concern for his reputation or his ego but he also likes to believe the man would be a little burned (hah) if he knew the whole time the officer he was torturing was steadfastly concealing the rat in plain sight. Shit just thinking of Nash sobers Freddy up a little.]
That's good, because I'm not. [He can worry - it would be more dangerous not to, really - but Raymond isn't about to let himself be afraid of any man, least of all one like this.]
Not one on the books that I know of. Mr. Blonde's all I got.
[Orange shakes his head. There's no excuse for why he dug up what he could on White but not Blonde, not Pink, not the others beyond Joe and Eddie Cabot.]
The illegal kind, obviously. [Which he doesn't particularly care about as much as he should, maybe, but this is far from his jurisdiction, and Orange has rarely been anything but helpful to him besides.] Something less serious than homicide or arson, I would assume.
[He doesn't say a word and instead nods to confirm Raymond's conclusion. Orange can't go into how complicated without possibly getting into the fact that he fucking committed manslaughter.]
[Freddy shoves another spoonful into his mouth. The majority of his bowl is gone, lucky you, Raymond.]
Nope.
[He doesn't catch on to any hint that maybe Raymond isn't referring to White and Pink in general but to White and Pink in the immediate vicinity. Only one of them's there.]
Can I expect any problems with them knowing what I've done for my living? [Which he suspects at least one of them already does, depending on how well they keep in contact with each other.]
[The words snap out with more bitterness than he really means, but only because there's a chord in him that's been firmly struck. Sure, as a timekeeper, he's hated no matter what he does. That's the first thing any timekeeper learns their first year on the beat: their only real reward for doing their jobs right is little more than a pile of vitriol. But someone has to do it.]
Where I come from, the rules are different. If you're born in the wrong time zone, that's it, tough shit. You work and work and work just to live from one day to the next, and you do that until the day you die, whether it's because you weren't paying attention or your loans caught up to you or some thug on the street stole whatever minutes you had left. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it's always going to be.
[He stops himself then, realizes he's letting his grip on himself get a little too slack. He leans back a bit more, lets his shoulders relax, and sighs.]The only way for a kid ( ... )
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I'm not planning to let him take me down.
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[Part of Orange is pretty sure Blonde doesn't have too much concern for his reputation or his ego but he also likes to believe the man would be a little burned (hah) if he knew the whole time the officer he was torturing was steadfastly concealing the rat in plain sight. Shit just thinking of Nash sobers Freddy up a little.]
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[Orange asks around a few chunks of waffle cone crumbled into his dessert. Sorry Raymond he's only halfway through it.]
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Does he have a name?
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[Orange shakes his head. There's no excuse for why he dug up what he could on White but not Blonde, not Pink, not the others beyond Joe and Eddie Cabot.]
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Just what kind of job was this? [Which is a question he'd intended to ask anyway, just not quite like this.]
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What kind do you think, man?
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[Orange waves his spoon.]
Homicide and arson complicate the shit out of a lift. [A robbery. That's all it was supposed to be.]
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Mr. Blonde made it complicated.
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Is there anyone else from this job worth watching my back for?
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Nope.
[He doesn't catch on to any hint that maybe Raymond isn't referring to White and Pink in general but to White and Pink in the immediate vicinity. Only one of them's there.]
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