Date: 2017-09-03 07:21 pm (UTC)
super_cool: (11648631)
From: [personal profile] super_cool
He doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s not even sure how to talk about it. But he can’t not talk about it either. “He was taking care of me after I got shot,” he begins, after a long pause. “I still wasn’t going to say anything." Another pause.

"But then the fucking cops were late. So while they’re dicking around doing... whatever the fuck, fighting over the last jelly-filled donut for all I fucking know, my friend and I are bleeding all over each other.”

Yeah, he’s angry with the police for showing up late. But there are also some major gaps in his story, and focusing on being angry at them is just the easiest way to get through talking about any of it.

“By this point, the gangster’s dead. Pretty much everyone involved is dead. I’m about to die, and my friend’s still trying to comfort me-- so yeah... I told him... Of course I fucking told him.”

He’s gone still and pale and has that faraway shaken look that Adia has no doubt seen many times before on many victims of all manner of disasters-- a look that she has probably worn a few times herself. And then he quietly says what he’s been saying a lot of lately: “I’m sorry.”
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Freddy Newendyke || Mr. Orange

August 2017

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