There's potential for a good night out. Only if it is a clean joint. You know. They actually upkeep the place and treat the girls nice. Oh and good tunes. I hate that electronic shit.
[ Very possibly Arthur should not be at work to begin with, but the defense is a typical one - if not a good one; he felt reasonable at the beginning of his shift, which amounted a lot less to card turning and a lot more to random things needing to be done (a machine malfunctioning, or so it seemed - it wasn't.) Off and on he spots Mr. White though they never really make eye contact. Eames' words about Orange and White not being cut of the same cloth occur to him more than once but that too is just in passing. He's less at home in the casino working than he would be simply trying his "luck" or being outsourced, gaming mathematics something he honed for a job and, like riding a bicycle, it hasn't left him since
( ... )
[Another day, another dollar. Whoever is working the music has a sense of humor turning out the 80s hits. Love is a battlefield, the lady sings. It was never a big favorite of the old man but no one asks him. That's one of the many perks about the job is that there are few times when he is cornered for questions and none of them are about what he thinks. The last time he got up close and personal with an employer it didn't end well. Not at all.
Still, he comes to work armed. That's how it's done if you work security. Mr. White protects himself, the employees and the assets of the casino. Making his rounds by the tables.
Before he knows it, there's a clunk. Before anything can really go down he's shooing off the customers. Lucky is already flanking making sure everything stays there.
Please let there be no bodies on the property today, he hopes earnestly. Shit is just messy. Uh oh. This is Argyle, isn't it. The old man knees and grips Arthur's shoulder. Just a few touches because if he's been stabbed or if something's broken moving
( ... )
[ It's his default reply to say that he's fine but he opts initially for just splaying the hand farthest from White (that is White isn't it, he's going to assume yes unless White has a twin running around, which isn't impossible) on the floor, digging into the cheap excuse for carpet. He chalks up the clustered, swimming impression he has of everything to the fever as he props himself up on one elbow. His jaw hurts with how hard he's grimacing but strangely that brings him back to himself better for a second. ]
I'm fine, I'm fine. [ There's the default, Arthur wondering none too cheerfully if standing up would be a Bad Idea. Possibly. Contradicting his own words too. He rubs a hand down over his own face, to cover any wincing or whatever else; he's pretty sure he's never been hit with something as ridiculously pathetic as the flu in all his life. Not to his recollection. But this isn't the flu of course, not really
( ... )
[For fine he's acting like the opposite. The old man is giving him enough room to breath he hopes. Lucky the other thug about has his hands full making sure no one is going for the chips. There's only one Mr. White and he's working on gripping Arthur by the shoulders.]
Slowly now. Let's get you some place quiet to sit down.
[And to see if he's really all in one piece. Half lifting, half dragging him to his feet isn't easy. The old man has his fill of patience.]
[The attack is of course, something that Steve should be ready for, but honestly who expects a wolverine to attack like that, if that thing was a wolverine, it was huge. But now the three men are in the car zooming, in a blind panic, bottles of precious water sloshing. Steve got the backseat.
Steve is bleeding from cuts and scratches and a bite on the shoulder, and he wishes he had thought to get armor made up here. There's blood on his shield, too, but that can be cleaned easily. The clothes will have to go. Oh well.]
Are you guys all right?
[Because it's the first moment that Steve has to pause for breath, and he sounds worried, and he's yelling a little in his 'Cap' voice.]
[Wheeze. Huff. Puff. Well. What can be expected, c'mon. No big wounds to speak of but the old man fell at least once.
All of this for fucking water. It sounds like a joke. Maybe it'll be sooo funny he'll laugh about it later. For now Larry's trying to keep his eyes on the road. The kid's alright, right? He doesn't smell blood or hear anyone fucking dying. That would be the cherry on top.]
I'm okay. [Whoa did his voice crack?] Shit I don't have any fuckin' clue I put a fuckin' clip in that fuckin' thing and it still kept fuckin' coming!
[Yes, Steve. He has to swear. Also Freddy's been through a good tumble through the woods and he looks like it with a scrape up his arm from wrist to elbow. He's got a cut on his knee from those claws but he didn't get bit. He throws a look over his shoulder at Cap.]
How you holdin' up? [That said to Steve before he glances to Larry too, looking over the old man to make sure he ain't hiding evisceration or something.]
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WAIT.]
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One big paw feels over a mustache.
What. The. Fuck. Pink.]
Jesus fucking Christ.
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What the fuck are you doing in my be....
[And his gaze goes to their hands. The most evil of things is on his left wrist.
The handcuff.]
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And those are cuffs that make Larry's right arm pull to the weasel-like gentleman.]
You gotta be fucking kidding me.
[A nice, shiny pair of cuffs and beyond it a Mr. Pink who's not a rosy sight to see when waking up.]
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[Yep. That's his story. He's sticking to it.]
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[Have some attached pictures of male nudity with a pair of tits thrown in.]
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Still, he comes to work armed. That's how it's done if you work security. Mr. White protects himself, the employees and the assets of the casino. Making his rounds by the tables.
Before he knows it, there's a clunk. Before anything can really go down he's shooing off the customers. Lucky is already flanking making sure everything stays there.
Please let there be no bodies on the property today, he hopes earnestly. Shit is just messy. Uh oh. This is Argyle, isn't it. The old man knees and grips Arthur's shoulder. Just a few touches because if he's been stabbed or if something's broken moving ( ... )
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I'm fine, I'm fine. [ There's the default, Arthur wondering none too cheerfully if standing up would be a Bad Idea. Possibly. Contradicting his own words too. He rubs a hand down over his own face, to cover any wincing or whatever else; he's pretty sure he's never been hit with something as ridiculously pathetic as the flu in all his life. Not to his recollection. But this isn't the flu of course, not really ( ... )
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[For fine he's acting like the opposite. The old man is giving him enough room to breath he hopes. Lucky the other thug about has his hands full making sure no one is going for the chips. There's only one Mr. White and he's working on gripping Arthur by the shoulders.]
Slowly now. Let's get you some place quiet to sit down.
[And to see if he's really all in one piece. Half lifting, half dragging him to his feet isn't easy. The old man has his fill of patience.]
First get you up. Not gonna have you fall again.
[Yeah, Arthur. That's what you did.]
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Steve is bleeding from cuts and scratches and a bite on the shoulder, and he wishes he had thought to get armor made up here. There's blood on his shield, too, but that can be cleaned easily. The clothes will have to go. Oh well.]
Are you guys all right?
[Because it's the first moment that Steve has to pause for breath, and he sounds worried, and he's yelling a little in his 'Cap' voice.]
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[Wheeze. Huff. Puff. Well. What can be expected, c'mon. No big wounds to speak of but the old man fell at least once.
All of this for fucking water. It sounds like a joke. Maybe it'll be sooo funny he'll laugh about it later. For now Larry's trying to keep his eyes on the road. The kid's alright, right? He doesn't smell blood or hear anyone fucking dying. That would be the cherry on top.]
Fucking peachy. What the hell was that thing?
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[Yes, Steve. He has to swear. Also Freddy's been through a good tumble through the woods and he looks like it with a scrape up his arm from wrist to elbow. He's got a cut on his knee from those claws but he didn't get bit. He throws a look over his shoulder at Cap.]
How you holdin' up? [That said to Steve before he glances to Larry too, looking over the old man to make sure he ain't hiding evisceration or something.]
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Yeah, I'm all right. Just a few scratches.
[He huffs out a breath]
I think it was a wolverine or something.
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