Who the hell have I been chasing?
For jae_w, not that she asked, but because she wrote the most amazing thing over here. Spoilers through the end of THE WIRE, s3.
Five times McNulty missed Stringer Bell.
1. He watches Avon skim the warrant, pass right over the mumbo jumbo he pays the fat man three hundred an hour to translate. And there it is -- his eyes stop, blink, water. "Something to think about between those two days," McNulty says, like it's his betrayal too, his fuck-you, like he and Stringer brought this house down together.
2. Standing in an old store on West 36th, McNulty fingers a squat blue book with flaking gold leaf letters on the binding: E SAYS IN PERS ASION, it says now. John Maynard Keynes. He looks up at the empty aisle. "It's like I didn't know him at all," he says.
3. Beadie fumbles with the battery, finally works it loose with a short nail between the pieces of plastic. "There's something wrong with it," she says, and he puts down the paper. She hands him the phone, the SIM card peeking out like gold in a prospector's pan.
4. He runs into Kima downtown, dropping off paperwork. "Bunch of fucking boys," she complains, ticking off the name of juvenile delinquents got promoted on account of Bell gone, Avon gone, Marlo an idiot. "Ain't one among them got half the wits as your guy."
5. Even beat cops go to court, and waiting on a slow asshole judge to push papers, McNulty balances his cap on his knee and stares at the long neck and lean torso of a man in a three thousand dollar suit. The man turns, caught in profile. He has a pockmarked bullet hole in one cheek, an ugly knife scar above the other eye. He looks back at the ADA and McNulty goes out for a cup of coffee.
Five times McNulty missed Stringer Bell.
1. He watches Avon skim the warrant, pass right over the mumbo jumbo he pays the fat man three hundred an hour to translate. And there it is -- his eyes stop, blink, water. "Something to think about between those two days," McNulty says, like it's his betrayal too, his fuck-you, like he and Stringer brought this house down together.
2. Standing in an old store on West 36th, McNulty fingers a squat blue book with flaking gold leaf letters on the binding: E SAYS IN PERS ASION, it says now. John Maynard Keynes. He looks up at the empty aisle. "It's like I didn't know him at all," he says.
3. Beadie fumbles with the battery, finally works it loose with a short nail between the pieces of plastic. "There's something wrong with it," she says, and he puts down the paper. She hands him the phone, the SIM card peeking out like gold in a prospector's pan.
4. He runs into Kima downtown, dropping off paperwork. "Bunch of fucking boys," she complains, ticking off the name of juvenile delinquents got promoted on account of Bell gone, Avon gone, Marlo an idiot. "Ain't one among them got half the wits as your guy."
5. Even beat cops go to court, and waiting on a slow asshole judge to push papers, McNulty balances his cap on his knee and stares at the long neck and lean torso of a man in a three thousand dollar suit. The man turns, caught in profile. He has a pockmarked bullet hole in one cheek, an ugly knife scar above the other eye. He looks back at the ADA and McNulty goes out for a cup of coffee.