Hit 004 ~ A job [Action/Dictated]

[midhitgrope]

[Rocco is currently wandering down town, checking in various shops, bars and restaurants. He's looking for work.]

So, does anyone here know where to get a job 'round here? Been hearin' stuff about bars and pie shops. I just need a bit of cash.

If anyone can give me a bit of advice, I'd appreciate it, man.

((OOC: Open in person or over the journal!))

Comments

Action!

[sixguns]

[Noah has decided he's had enough of his room. There's only so much you can take of walls and windows and very little fresh air. After pulling on his (black) clothing and a pair of jeans, and what seemed like half a roll of duct tape to hold himself together, he slips out into the streets of the city for the first time.

[And nearly runs into someone who seems preoccupied with everything but where he's going.]

Watch where yer goin', eejit.

[midhitgrope]

[Rocco's journal falls to the ground.]

Who th'fuck...

[He trails off, pales and just stares. His missing finger itches at the knuckle.]

Shit!!

[And there's Rocco diving for the nearest cover in an alleyway behind some trash cans. Why the fuck did he forget his gun.]

[sixguns]

[This is Noah watching Rocco with faint amusement. Someone he's run into before?

[Heh.

[He picks up Rocco's journal and follows him, stopping at the cans.]

Ye dropped this.

[midhitgrope]

[And there'll be a name on the journal: David Della Rocco. Sound familiar, Noah?

Nope, he's going to stay where he is.]

S-Stay back! I'm armed!

[He sounds terrified.]

[sixguns]

[It's not as if the boys didn't go on for days about their buddy Rocco. Even so.]

Ye can come out. Yer gonna smell like rotten shite.

[He's noticed Rocco is standing in something soft and not readily identifiable. Spare, escaped garbage.]

[midhitgrope]

Yeah? So ya can fuckin' shoot off another fuckin' finger?!

[He's on to you. :| ]

[sixguns]

'm not interested in yer fingers, or ye'd already have lost 'em.

[midhitgrope]

Yeah? So what ya fuckin' want this time, ya sick fuck?!

[sixguns]

Ye dropped this.

[Noah drops the journal on a garbage can lid.]

And fer the record, we were all tryin' t'kill each other.

[And with that, he takes out a cigar and lights it.]

[midhitgrope]

You started it. Don't think I don't know who the fuck you are!! If you think I'm tellin' you were Connor and Murphy are, then you might as well just kill me now, 'cause I ain't tellin' you fuck all!

[sixguns]

[Oh.]

[He really shouldn't... but maybe it runs in the family.]

I know where they are. Or were.

[midhitgrope]

No. You can't. They're still alive.

Y-You have to go through me to get to them, y'hear me?

[sixguns]

[Noah takes a thoughtful puff and nonchalantly draws his jacket back to reveal a simple vest with a single holster in it.

[One holding a matte silver Smith and Wesson.

[He lets it fall closed again.]

Would ye like a smoke?

[fredless]

I might have a job for you, if you'd like. I just have to run it by a few of my friends.

[midhitgrope]

Really? Hey, I'd appreciate whatever ya can do. Thanks!

[fredless]

How do you feel about bartending?

[midhitgrope]

It ain't what I'm used to, but I'm sure I can manage.

[fredless]

Well, there's plenty of other work at the bar. That shouldn't be a problem.

[midhitgrope]

Hey, I'll be grateful for whatever work I can get. Need to save up the cash.

[fredless]

To help with getting out of the Castle?

[midhitgrope]

I'm already out, but I'd kinda like my own place. Don't wanna impose on my friends much longer.

That... and I wanna open a business.

[fredless]

[Well that's downright ambitious]

What kind?

Unless I'm being rude? Am I being rude, asking?

[midhitgrope]

Nah, it's fine.

I wanna open a deli. Always wanted to.

[fredless]

Well, you're never gonna go wrong with food.

[According to Fred, at least]

[midhitgrope]

Yeah, that's what I thought. Figured I could maybe get a delivery service runnin' up eventually.