H earns a living

[thelorax42.livejournal.com]

Fuck thought Markus as he saw that fucking David guy come stumbling into his makeshift office. This was all he needed to finish of an already bad fucking day, and was more than an honest, hard working criminal fence could be expected to put up with. Give him a minute or so and he'd be up the stairs and in the room with something new to sell.

Sure, the guy was a good thief. No doubt on that. He got stuff, and it was always undamaged and what you'd asked for. He took stupidly low wages, and came through as much as your next junkie.

Yeah, junkie. That had to be what the man was. I mean look at him, that crazy fucking tat all over his head, shit hanging off of his shirt as if it's natural as anything to put a dog toy on your clothes, and a fucking collection of sticks in his other hand. I mean, who does that? You've gotta be pretty far fucking gone, right?

Still, he'd been gone for a long time, and Marcus thought he was rid of the fucking lunatic. Shame, in some ways, cos he stole some good shit. Things you had to wonder how someone so far fucking gone got access to. Only reason he put up with him.

The final creak of the stairs told Marcus to be ready for Dave to come in. And a second later he half stumbled in. Big and bulky, in an ill fitting t shirt covered with small bits of rubbish, he stared around the room with that weird, creepy wide eyed look, running his free hand over the endlessly repeating geometric tattoo that covered his entire scalp.

… and Marcus' mouth went dry. The guy was there and it was all Marcus could look at, his hackles raising and an instinctive fear telling him that something monstrous was in the room with him. Where he had been a pathetic junky before, he now had that feral look in his eyes, and as his head flicked around suddenly, taking in the contents of the office, he resembled an animal more than a man.

A second later, Dave's gaze finally began to rest on Marcus, or, as Marcus was sure, on his fucking throat. This crazy fucking strung out loser was in his office staring right at his throat, and smiling that vague smile of his that seemed to be more about showing teeth than any sort of amusement. Christ. Marcus realised a second later. he's got blood on him, too. Is that a fucking knife in his pocket? For the first time he felt trapped rather than secure in this, the inner sanctum, the holiest of holies of his operation, with this … this thing staring at him.

“what? “ he barked, trying to get control of the situation again “what have you got, and what the fuck do you want?” fear turned to aggression easily, the lessons of a thousand encounters told him to not show weakness, but to put the other on the defensive.

“what shit have you brought me today, man? Get it dealt with, and get out”

Dave reached into his pocket, and Marcus tensed, instinctively, expecting a weapon. Knowing that the man in front of him wanted to hurt him, and was someone he should keep away. When he pulled out a small bag a second later, it took Marcus a second to work out he was not being threatened, and inspect the goods.

Gold. Loads of gold rings and necklaces. A small fortune, in fact, and all of it easy to melt down and reuse. It was as good a pull as he was gonna get today, and it was a shame this psycho had to be the one to bring it in.

“Who'd you kill to get these? How hot are they?” he said, assuming

David just shrugged. After an awkward pause he added “five hundred. For all of it. No more. No less.”

The haul was worth a few thousand in anyone's thinking, so it was a good offer. He still was leery though. The guy was wrong, the offer was wrong, and the situation was just wrong, top to bottom.

“done, now get out of my office” he said, counting out the notes quickly and putting them on the table so he did not have to touch the man's hand. Dave picked it up quickly and turned to go.

With one last turn, Dave smiled a joyless smile at Marcus, and honest-to-god growled. Somehow the sound bypassed every logical part of his mind and damn near made him fall off of his chair in fright. Just as he rose to shout, the madman left.

David harangued-by-spirits looked at the paltry amount of money. But it had been little work asking the door to open, and the case, and convincing the alarms not to ring. He only needed a little money, for fuel and other sundries, and he could go back to his Great Work. But the little spirit had paid him well enough, or as well as he needed and he had repaid it in turn. Smiling contentedly, he wandered off.

By the time an hour had passed, he had forgotten he had entered the real world that day entirely.

Comments

[frothy-bunny.livejournal.com]

I love this :D

[sl4irl.livejournal.com]

An "interactions with the mundane" theme for the day's writing? I like it!

Especially the line where it seems like H's massive amount of PU makes the man think he's about to get attacked (is that right?)

[thelorax42.livejournal.com]

yeah, basically.

H has gone up to PU 7, so is on a chance dice to non intimidation rolls.

Which I took to mean that people think, instinctively, that he's a crazy predator coming to get them, and so react badly.