(canon is Sin City/That Yellow Bastard)

[thelastday]

Couldn't just leave an old man alone, could you?

Comments

[thelastday]

Don't have the time, don't have the interest. Don't care for the tacky floors, either.

[gonnabite]

You don't sound like you go to a lot of movie theaters then.

[He laughs.]

Vic Vega, by the way.

[thelastday]

[Very funny. Very astute. And there's that nagging familiarity, though the name isn't ringing any bell I can hear.]

John Hartigan. [No harm in giving a name, not now. Then something he does--maybe a shrug of the shoulders, a glint in the eyes--clicks it into place: this guy is the spitting image of Bob. The Bob of years past, before he showed his true colors but not before I knew there was something out of joint. For all his laughing, there had always been something unstable with Bob. Hell, there was something with pretty much every cop. I just happened to learn the hard way when Bob's turned rotten.] Huh.

[I'm wary. Real wary. Something inside tells me to get the hell outta there, but I can't turn back before I have a better sense of who this guy who could be Bob is. Better to understand the danger than let it creep up on you.]

Where you from, Mr. Vega?

[gonnabite]

Hey. [He holds up his Taco Bell soda in a half-salutation. Lucky for Hartigan, Vic never bothered to hide his nastier side. He was cheerfully and nonchalantly homicidal and he didn't give a shit. This was a man who just got released from prison, too. He didn't feel like being violent right now, but he could be dangerous when he wanted to be.]

What?

[He directs that at 'what' at Hartigan's 'huh', but the question temporarily distracts him.]

Chicago. I live in L.A. now. [He nods.] You?

[thelastday]

Basin City. Not a bad place to be if you can stomach the fallout of large-scale corruption. I can't say how it compares to L.A. or Chicago, though. Never been.

[gonnabite]

Basin City, huh. [SLURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP.] Never heard of it.

ps Hartigan kind of wants to jam that straw up Vic's nose yep.

[thelastday]

[It's like the guy's trying to get on my nerves. But maybe he just likes his soda, and maybe I'm being touchy. Not used to all these noises.]

Probably better for you that way. I'm sure L.A.'s got plenty to offer.

yes good vic is a shit anyway

[gonnabite]

What's Basin City got to offer?

XD

[thelastday]

A few thriving businesses, seedy restaurants, waterfront property. Tar pits. All the vice a man could ask for.

Beyond that, it depends on what you're looking for. You have any particular interests?

[gonnabite]

[SLURRRRRRPS one more time because actually his soda is pretty much gone dang

oh well he casually tosses it to his side and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket]

Seedy restaurants are more my thing, but tar pits sound pretty interesting.

[thelastday]

The highlight of every tourist's stay.

[What's this guy's game? I'm keeping alert, but I don't have the patience to play for long.]

We got a pretty decent ball team, too.

[gonnabite]

[Nothing, really. He's actually just chatting and being himself. A smile plays on his lips and he sputters out a laugh.]

Sounds like the seedy shit's a lot more interesting.

[thelastday]

Interesting's a word for it. Keeps the city occupied, anyway.

[Try something more direct. Might be more helpful.]

So what do you do with yourself, Vic? What's your line of work?

[gonnabite]

[Shrug.]

I'm a dockworker. [Not really.] You?

[thelastday]

[This guy's as much a dockworker as I am a nun, but I don't call him out on it. Didn't expect a straight answer, anyway.]

Retired. Got to be too old to be useful.

[gonnabite]

Yeah? In what, exactly? [He looks over Haritgan. From the way he dressed he looked like he used to be some kind of hard-boiled private eye.]

[thelastday]

[There's no sense in hiding it, though I'm on edge, ready for this guy to twitch, fire, anything. A lot of people--especially evasive people--don't like cops. Guy like this who calls himself a dockworker could be anything. Drug runner, hitman, or he could just be dicking with me.]

Police force.

Job like that burns you out.

[Not really. I'm old, sure, and maybe everything doesn't work the way it used to, but I'm nowhere near finished.]

[gonnabite]

No shit, you a cop? [Was a cop, whatever. Vic gave him a lopsided smile.] I bet. That's why I never wanted to be one.

[That and it sounded boring.]

[thelastday]

[I don't tell him he would've fit right it, though I have my suspicions.]

Can't imagine the docks're much better.

[gonnabite]

Not really. Liftin' fuckin' crates all day ain't excitin' but it pays.

[thelastday]

I guess it'd have to. And it must give you the satisfaction of an honest day's work.

[gonnabite]

Barely.

[he's bsing at this point obviously]

[thelastday]

You ever think about getting into anything else? Young guy like you must have prospects.

[I'm getting the sense that this is one of those conversations that doesn't have any basis in reality. It's aggravating, but it's also a distraction, and a distraction's just what I need. I need to do is keep my mind off Nancy. I need to keep myself from tearing off and doing something hot-headed. So maybe I can stomach this guy and his slippery answers for a little while longer.]

[gonnabite]

[Not really. For all his fake answers about his job Vic is just talking to talk. That and this guy looks interesting enough. Blondie wonders how he got as grizzled as he was. There's always a story worth listening to.]

Yeah, you know. I'm not planning on working on a dock the real of my fuckin' life. But it pays the bills until I find something worth doin'.

[He glances back up again.]

I bet you got a lot of stories from your line of work.

[thelastday]

I can hear that. Worked as a short-order cook for a time, myself. Nothing I'd recommend to anyone, but you do what you've gotta.

[Stories, sure. But it seems a diminishment to think of them like that, nothing more than columns in newspaper or pages in a book. They were experiences and lives, encounters with the kind of ruin that should never make it into this world but which we keep giving room to thrive. I shrug, a gesture barely perceptible.] I guess I've seen my share, anyway.