"... For the next 2 weeks I have to clean the Captain's cabin, so how's about you make it worth my while..."
Sprout grinned like an idiot. "Hell yeah, you know I'm good fer some while werthin'!" After a quick peck on the cheek, the eager lover suddenly pulled away from his girlfriend and sized her up. "Wait, aren't ya' feelin' sick? Ya' sure you don' wanna take it easy? You got purdy banged up in the fightin' too. I reckon we'll 'ave plenty 'a time later if ya' wanna rest, babe."
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"Still, thank you. It's nice to know I'm doing something right. I never really learned how to socialise."
"I guess I'm lucky that way," Edea laughed. "I learned how to socialize and fight. Few on the Rock could claim such fortune." There was a hint of bitterness in her words. "I think you need more booze, love." She said with a wink.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"No, I dinnae ken why you're having a go at me, I helped, you wouldn't have even gotten in the vault without me!"
"You're right," Bennie admitted, "you did your job, and you did it well. Breaking into the vault and helping the others make out with the cash? That was your duty. Using an untested, experimental weapon in the field without my consent? Allie... you should know better than that. It was Gale's job to keep you safe. You were under explicit orders to drop your bag and run if the score went south. You're not ready for combat. You're too young."
The big man sighed. "But shit happens, you haven't been trained for nothing. If you have to, you fight, but this contraption of yours? Jake got away with a lot of shit when Pixie was in-charge for two reasons: one, he's got decades of experience, and two, Pixie was calling the shots. I'm not Pixie. It's my policy to eliminate unknowns--to dissect a score thoroughly before I commit to it. Your weapon was an unknown. It could have gotten one of us killed! You understand where I'm coming from, don't you?"
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"Sorry about the uhhh, well you know," the dark haired woman said as she sauntered into the bathroom, pistol held lazily at her side. "Can't be too careful in this part of town. Hot chocolate?"
Ada glanced around the hovel anxiously before finding a seat on the ratty sofa nearby. "It wouldn't be the first time I've had a gun shoved in my face," she muttered. "And sure, that would be nice."
Hot chocolate?
After a few minutes of sitting alone awkwardly, her client returned to the living room with two steaming mugs in her hands. "Careful, it's hot," the woman warned as she handed Ada her drink.
"Thanks," the girl replied. "Um, so what's your name, anyway? I only got an address for this place."
The raven haired woman hesitated for a long while. "Theresa," she finally said. "And you?"
"Ada," the girl said with a smile. Theresa returned the gesture.
A short time later their drinks were cool enough to sip. "It's really good!"
"Thanks," Theresa replied with a sheepish grin. "My, uh, dad used to make them for me and my... nephew."
A calm silence hung in the air as the two women sat together, drinking. Although she was wearing long sleeves, Ada could clearly see that this woman was incredibly fit. She was built like a soldier--albeit a curvy one--but considering her accommodations, she was more likely a mercenary or a gang-banger. She had to be pretty damn tough to live in a place like this all by herself.
"Mind if I ask about--"
"It's nothing," Theresa said. "Someone hurt me a long time ago. They don't matter anymore." Ada broke eye contact and nodded nervously. "Don't worry about it."
Ada furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or--"
"You didn't," her client interrupted. "It's a huge-ass scar on my face. Kinda hard to miss. I've got a whole lot more where that came from."
She hadn't noticed them until Theresa mentioned it, but the woman wore at least a dozen scars on her hands and legs. Ada could only guess how many she had under her shirt. "So are you a soldier?" she asked, hesitantly.
"I'm Clint-fuckin'-Eastwood," Theresa chuckled, lighting a cigarette. After a quick drag, she exhaled and downed the rest of her hot chocolate. "I kill so many people I frequently lose count of how many rounds are left in the chamber."
Ada looked uncomfortable.
The older woman rolled her eyes. "Relax, it was a joke," she assured, her. Ada grinned, nervously. "Sort of."
After another prolonged silence, Ada cocked her head. "Who's Clint Eastwood?"
Theresa glanced over to the old TV nearby and smirked. "Why don't I show you?"
Sprout grinned like an idiot. "Hell yeah, you know I'm good fer some while werthin'!" After a quick peck on the cheek, the eager lover suddenly pulled away from his girlfriend and sized her up. "Wait, aren't ya' feelin' sick? Ya' sure you don' wanna take it easy? You got purdy banged up in the fightin' too. I reckon we'll 'ave plenty 'a time later if ya' wanna rest, babe."
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"Still, thank you. It's nice to know I'm doing something right. I never really learned how to socialise."
"I guess I'm lucky that way," Edea laughed. "I learned how to socialize and fight. Few on the Rock could claim such fortune." There was a hint of bitterness in her words. "I think you need more booze, love." She said with a wink.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"No, I dinnae ken why you're having a go at me, I helped, you wouldn't have even gotten in the vault without me!"
"You're right," Bennie admitted, "you did your job, and you did it well. Breaking into the vault and helping the others make out with the cash? That was your duty. Using an untested, experimental weapon in the field without my consent? Allie... you should know better than that. It was Gale's job to keep you safe. You were under explicit orders to drop your bag and run if the score went south. You're not ready for combat. You're too young."
The big man sighed. "But shit happens, you haven't been trained for nothing. If you have to, you fight, but this contraption of yours? Jake got away with a lot of shit when Pixie was in-charge for two reasons: one, he's got decades of experience, and two, Pixie was calling the shots. I'm not Pixie. It's my policy to eliminate unknowns--to dissect a score thoroughly before I commit to it. Your weapon was an unknown. It could have gotten one of us killed! You understand where I'm coming from, don't you?"
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
"Sorry about the uhhh, well you know," the dark haired woman said as she sauntered into the bathroom, pistol held lazily at her side. "Can't be too careful in this part of town. Hot chocolate?"
Ada glanced around the hovel anxiously before finding a seat on the ratty sofa nearby. "It wouldn't be the first time I've had a gun shoved in my face," she muttered. "And sure, that would be nice."
Hot chocolate?
After a few minutes of sitting alone awkwardly, her client returned to the living room with two steaming mugs in her hands. "Careful, it's hot," the woman warned as she handed Ada her drink.
"Thanks," the girl replied. "Um, so what's your name, anyway? I only got an address for this place."
The raven haired woman hesitated for a long while. "Theresa," she finally said. "And you?"
"Ada," the girl said with a smile. Theresa returned the gesture.
A short time later their drinks were cool enough to sip. "It's really good!"
"Thanks," Theresa replied with a sheepish grin. "My, uh, dad used to make them for me and my... nephew."
A calm silence hung in the air as the two women sat together, drinking. Although she was wearing long sleeves, Ada could clearly see that this woman was incredibly fit. She was built like a soldier--albeit a curvy one--but considering her accommodations, she was more likely a mercenary or a gang-banger. She had to be pretty damn tough to live in a place like this all by herself.
"Mind if I ask about--"
"It's nothing," Theresa said. "Someone hurt me a long time ago. They don't matter anymore." Ada broke eye contact and nodded nervously. "Don't worry about it."
Ada furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or--"
"You didn't," her client interrupted. "It's a huge-ass scar on my face. Kinda hard to miss. I've got a whole lot more where that came from."
She hadn't noticed them until Theresa mentioned it, but the woman wore at least a dozen scars on her hands and legs. Ada could only guess how many she had under her shirt. "So are you a soldier?" she asked, hesitantly.
"I'm Clint-fuckin'-Eastwood," Theresa chuckled, lighting a cigarette. After a quick drag, she exhaled and downed the rest of her hot chocolate. "I kill so many people I frequently lose count of how many rounds are left in the chamber."
Ada looked uncomfortable.
The older woman rolled her eyes. "Relax, it was a joke," she assured, her. Ada grinned, nervously. "Sort of."
After another prolonged silence, Ada cocked her head. "Who's Clint Eastwood?"
Theresa glanced over to the old TV nearby and smirked. "Why don't I show you?"