[Er, hm. This is awkward. Mr. Wrench caught about zero of what you said, Bill. Bad at lip reading and all. But hey, you're dressed like a cop, so you're probably a cop. He scribbles.]
Deaf.
[So, you know, cater to that. Or don't. He doesn't care.]
[There's a whole lot someone can do with "sorry," okay? Apologies are important. Just give Bill a sec to realize what it is he's supposed to do now, and —
Okay.
Looking apologetic once more, he writes on the same page:] I think the people around here are a bit off. In the head I mean.
[Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bill can hear Molly going on about some deaf fella, but then he realizes that's — uh, politically incorrect, probably. Of course there's more than one deaf fella in the wold world. Jeez.
He turns to a new page, a little unnerved by the staring.]
[Should he tell him? This is a cop and Mr. Wrench has very little to say to the police. But at this point, it's not like he's got anything to lose. So he scribbles a succinct answer.]
No.
[Not that he wouldn't, you know, mind more in the way of guidance as to what he's supposed to do from this point on. But he's not about to ask anyone.]
[One perk of not having his usual translator is that Mr. Wrench can express himself honestly. This is also a huge disadvantage, as one might make the assumption he's polite.
Not so as he scribbles his next response.]
You're stupid and you shouldn't carry a badge. I also don't like your mustache.
[...that's definitely not what Bill asked. Not at all. He frowns, caught somewhere between looking offended and confused, and it's with the latter expression that he stares at Mr. Wrench without writing anything down.
[Yeah, no, Mr. Wrench doesn't buy that at all and regards Bill with his stare. Just...staring into your soul, Bill. You aren't convincing him of anything.
[He doesn't appreciate it? Does that seem like something that would concern Mr. Wrench?
He doesn't write anything in response, only watches Bill a moment before looking another direction and refusing to glance the police chief's way. Whatever. Conversation over.]
Not that he's gonna say that, because he has a feeling this guy is the type to punch people in the face whether or not they're wearing a policeman's uniform. And much as he'd like an excuse to arrest him, he also... doesn't want to be punched in the face...
So.
That's that, then.]
I'm...very late. But this journal is way too good to pass up.
[Well, shit. And hello. Mr. Wrench does a double take and immediately assumes something between a defensive and aggressive stance (mostly defensive). He did not see Malvo coming and doesn't trust him, despite being spared and granted his freedom. His pad of paper is forgotten in lieu of some very curt signs.]
[ He has some vague idea of what the signs might suggest. Either way, he's not particularly keen on catering to one deaf hitman at the moment; no, he's not even in the mood for writing. Anything they have to say to each other that really matters, besides jawing and bullshitting, well, there's no words needed for that.
Doesn't mean he can't tease the guy a while. ]
Might as well enjoy the ride. Hey, maybe that partner of yours will pop up-- you can sew him back up good as new.
[Mr. Wrench only understands some of the statement, but it's enough and it's the important bits. He lets out an angry sound and lumbers towards the smaller man. He's not handcuffed to the bed this time, Malvo, and he's not happy with your comments.]
[ He doesn't move, a tug at the corner of his lips still suggesting a smile. Let the guy come, better than wasting any of his own breath. There's just one small, quick movement that a well-trained pair of eyes would be able to catch, a quick draw from his pockets produces a blade that would run Wrench through if he thinks body slamming is an ample solution to this score. ]
[Wrench notes the blade and forces his anger in check. It had been his intention to grab Lorne by the collar and deliver a beating with his fists until he stopped breathing moving (and maybe then some). The knife changes things and he has to go about things less...emotionally. Which usually isn't a problem for the hit man, but certain subjects have been a bit touchy as of late.
It doesn't stop him from glaring at Malvo with his typical dark stare. He hates you so much, buddy. So very, very much.]
[ Some people crave affection, some justification of their existence...Lorne lives for the very look Wrench currently has on his face. That make him feel a little more generous. ]
Around here, some of the dead walk around like nothing ever happened to 'em. Same goes for killing, sometimes people stay down, sometimes you see 'em the very next week. It's all chance, or whatever they wanna write.
[ A shrug. He doesn't much understand it either. ]
Guess I'm part of your welcome wagon. Sorry I forgot the muffin basket.
See, if you HAD brought a muffin basket, he'd be friendlier. That's really what this is all about.
[Wrench doesn't completely catch what Malvo is getting at but he doesn't care. He doesn't like seeing him again, especially not when he'd learned through various sources that he's supposed to have been killed.
Speaking of that, he points a finger at the other man and signs before throwing his arms up in a questioning shrug. Why is someone like him back but his partner is nowhere to be seen?]
[Yeah, Wrench doesn't buy that. He signs furiously again, this time letting loose a long string of thoughts on the matter and quandaries as to the real reason people like Lorne and Lester seem to be roaming about but not the one person who should be.
Of course, unless Malvo has learned ASL, there's a good chance most of it is meaningless gesturing to him.]
[ No such luck. Lorne watches for a few seconds, not so much trying to deduce anything as appreciating the conviction of the gestures. The interest doesn't last, and he pockets his knife, changing it out for cigarettes and a lighter. ]
You oughta write a book with that mouthful.
A pity. Mr. Numbers always brings the best nachos.
[That earns Malvo another glare, followed by gesture pointedly directed at him.
It's a promise, though not right at this moment, it seems. Right now he'll just...glare some more. Really, has he become this? It's frustrating, but his instincts tell him not to engage Malvo. Not like this, anyhow.]
Excellent. I...wouldn't trust anything Lorne brings. Or ask where he got it from.
[Nope. Wrench doesn't move and maintains his glare even as Malvo offers the pack. Were Numbers here, he might make a snide quip, but Wrench has always done best being silent and threatening.
He's keeping a very close eye on the other hit man all the same.]
[ He can't say he expected the guy to bite, his discipline and loyalty to his partner is almost commendable-- if this were the boy scouts. Another shrug and he tucks them away into his pocket, standing aloof now and enjoying his cigarette. ]
[What, does Malvo expect him to answer that? The stare remains.
...in all honesty, he has no idea what's going to become of him. His mun doesn't seem to have anywhere definite in mind and has been throwing him into these limbo-existences since his creation. It's all very frustrating.]
[ Stare all you like, Wrench. As long as you're not crowding him, he's got no issues with you. There's a knowing smile just before he snuffs out the cigarette with disinterest, flicking the remnants in Wrench's direction. ]
See you around, hoss.
[ He gives a brief wave to accentuate his departure, curious if the other man will honor his promise. There's nothing more disappointing in this world than empty threats. ]
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Why do they do it?
LAUGHS AND SLIDES OVER HERE
Aw, yiss.
Deaf.
[So, you know, cater to that. Or don't. He doesn't care.]
i was just wishing for this the other day :')
Oh. Ah — sorry. [More slowly, as if that'll help:] Sor-ry.
[Oh, wait. Hang on a sec. After fishing out his notepad from a rear pocket, Bill writes:] Sorry. My mistake.
[There!]
Welp, I'm sorry it's not Molly or Lester, but we'll make do! :D
nooo i mean this specifically! a wrench or a numbers. i'm so glad.
Okay.
Looking apologetic once more, he writes on the same page:] I think the people around here are a bit off. In the head I mean.
Well then! I'm happy to oblige! :D
[Wrench continues with the whole staring thing.]
♥!
He turns to a new page, a little unnerved by the staring.]
Does yours have plans for you?
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No.
[Not that he wouldn't, you know, mind more in the way of guidance as to what he's supposed to do from this point on. But he's not about to ask anyone.]
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[He'll just leave it at that, actually. The "but" is probably obvious.
Being a cop is one thing, but...]
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People really are screwy here. Sorry, Bill, but you just get another "what the hell" sort of stare in response.]
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[It's at this point that Bill looks at the other man with the same look on his face. He doesn't get it, either.]
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[It's meant as a sarcastic response, though given this guy so far, Mr. Wrench doubts it'll be taken at anything other than face value.]
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Mine says she's sent people there before. You got kids you want to bring with?
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So instead he settles for harassing Bill some more.]
Yes. So many kids.
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How many?
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Not so as he scribbles his next response.]
You're stupid and you shouldn't carry a badge. I also don't like your mustache.
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???]
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You do not impress him, "Chief" Oswalt (if your name tag is to be believed). Not in the least.]
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With a scowl, he writes:] That's awfully rude and uncalled for.
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The previous one was murdered.
[That probably won't help his case, but maybe it'll make the guy re-think his complete lack of tact!!!]
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[He cocks his head slightly and regards Bill.]
You would shoot yourself with your own gun.
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[The fact that he has to turn onto a new page probably loses some of the angry effect, but his handwriting sure looks a little shaky.
And this whole thing suddenly seems absurd, but — whatever.]
discharged my weapon and hit anything other than what I was trying to hit!
[
that's probably a load of crap though let's be real]no subject
Nice try.]
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Wouldja stop starin' at me like that?!
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Bill should probably just leave, right?
But before he goes:] I don't know where you come from that people talk like that to others, but it's darn rude and I don't appreciate it.
[THAT'LL SHOW HIM.]
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He doesn't write anything in response, only watches Bill a moment before looking another direction and refusing to glance the police chief's way. Whatever. Conversation over.]
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At least Bill's not the one with the ugly jacket.
Not that he's gonna say that, because he has a feeling this guy is the type to punch people in the face whether or not they're wearing a policeman's uniform. And much as he'd like an excuse to arrest him, he also... doesn't want to be punched in the face...
So.
That's that, then.]
I'm...very late. But this journal is way too good to pass up.
[ Now there's a face he didn't expect to see. ]
Yaaaaaay!
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Doesn't mean he can't tease the guy a while. ]
Might as well enjoy the ride. Hey, maybe that partner of yours will pop up-- you can sew him back up good as new.
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breathingmoving (and maybe then some). The knife changes things and he has to go about things less...emotionally. Which usually isn't a problem for the hit man, but certain subjects have been a bit touchy as of late.It doesn't stop him from glaring at Malvo with his typical dark stare. He hates you so much, buddy. So very, very much.]
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Around here, some of the dead walk around like nothing ever happened to 'em. Same goes for killing, sometimes people stay down, sometimes you see 'em the very next week. It's all chance, or whatever they wanna write.
[ A shrug. He doesn't much understand it either. ]
Guess I'm part of your welcome wagon. Sorry I forgot the muffin basket.
See, if you HAD brought a muffin basket, he'd be friendlier. That's really what this is all about.
Speaking of that, he points a finger at the other man and signs before throwing his arms up in a questioning shrug. Why is someone like him back but his partner is nowhere to be seen?]
Damnit, I KNEW it. Bad Lorne. :c
Maybe I'm better at my job. Maybe he's having a hell of a time singing "Amazing Grace" in the Heavenly choir. Couldn't tell you.
It's alright; Wrench didn't bring anything either.
Of course, unless Malvo has learned ASL, there's a good chance most of it is meaningless gesturing to him.]
No hitmen potluck today, it looks like.
You oughta write a book with that mouthful.
A pity. Mr. Numbers always brings the best nachos.
It's a promise, though not right at this moment, it seems. Right now he'll just...glare some more. Really, has he become this? It's frustrating, but his instincts tell him not to engage Malvo. Not like this, anyhow.]
Excellent. I...wouldn't trust anything Lorne brings. Or ask where he got it from.
Playing ignorant, he extends the pack as if offering a smoke to the other man. ]
He probably gets everything from the guy in the white van.
He's keeping a very close eye on the other hit man all the same.]
Totally not sketchy.
What's yours gonna do with you?
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...in all honesty, he has no idea what's going to become of him. His mun doesn't seem to have anywhere definite in mind and has been throwing him into these limbo-existences since his creation. It's all very frustrating.]
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See you around, hoss.
[ He gives a brief wave to accentuate his departure, curious if the other man will honor his promise. There's nothing more disappointing in this world than empty threats. ]