voice testing (mr. pink/reservoir dogs)

[mr_professional]

You gotta be shittin’ me. It isn’t bad enough that the heist fell through, now you want to drag me into this mess of fucked up nobodies and creeps that ain’t even human? All of this talking through computers, being put into some unknown situation where anything can happen, I don’t like that. This isn’t my game. This isn’t the way I play.

As if I’ve got a fuckin’ choice in the matter.

While we’re at it, you know what? This all smells pretty rotten to me. You think this is fun, you’re pretty fuckin’ sick, is what I think. Just… toying around with people—there’s me and god knows who else, but I know I’m not the only one—and what kind of a game is that? Have you got nothing better to do with yourself, you’ve gotta play with us all day? I don’t know why you’d want me in your head. Hell, I don’t always want me in my head. You hear me? This doesn't end, I mean I don’t stop talking. I just don’t, I’m not kidding you.

Jesus Christ, at least get me a cigarette, will ya?

Comments

psl the hell out of it, why not

[everynerve_ending]

[He wants to tell him to calm the fuck down already, jesus christ, but he holds it back. If Pink wants to talk then, sure, let him. Go to it. The more he says then the less Freddy has to. Cuts down on chances he'll reveal something he shouldn't.]

It's a possibility. [Spoken with some hesitation. How badly he wants to tell Pink that he lives, the only one of them that does, but it didn't look good for him, and without thinking about it, he rubs the spot on the cheek where he can still feel the business end of Larry's gun.]

I was going to and who knows what the fuck happened after that. Maybe we are, maybe we ain't. Let's look at the facts: we're here, wherever the here even is, and we got no one else. Don't know about you, but I'm thinking sticking together would be a good idea.

okay but pink says they gotta get two beds at motels or whatever.

[mr_professional]

All right, but what if the facts aren't the facts? I mean, how the fuck are we supposed to know? Fact is I should be on my way back to that piece of shit warehouse, and all I got is high fuckin' alert, red lights flashing, and that's when I take my fucking exit cue, but there ain't nowhere to go!

Not to trash your ideas, and maybe you've got a good point about sticking together, but if I don't know how to know whether I'm here, then how the fuck'm I going to know to trust you? Just give me a moment, man. Give me a moment.

Freddy's still playing the 'I'm totally hetero' alias anyway. I MEAN--uh. that'd work.

[everynerve_ending]

[Freddy waved his hand in the air, the go ahead sign of 'Sure, take all the moments you need, man. They're all yours.' He waits close to two minutes before speaking again.]

You're stuck on that trust thing, aren't you? You're beating a dead horse with it. Either you do or you don't, either way? That don't much matter right now. Quite frankly, I don't give a shit if you do trust me.

[A bold-faced lie, the worse he's probably told up to this point, but he can't show just how fucking scared he really is. No way.]

Maybe we'll be put someplace that makes sense. Maybe that cosmic ray shit will separate us in a few minutes. Who the fuck even knows anymore?

aheh. hey, freddy business is his own, you know? long as he doesn't bring it home with him.

[mr_professional]

[He uses the silence to take a walk, muttering out loud when the thoughts in his head get to be too much to handle. So far as he can tell, there isn't any way to make any of this into sense, and he isn't any closer to clarity when Orange speaks again.]

You're about as helpful as a hard-on in a convent, you know that?

[Still, the longer he finds himself here, the more he begins to believe that he really is here. Maybe inescapably, maybe not, but Orange is right: the fact seems to be that he exists in this moment and in this place. And Orange isn't such a bad guy, right?

Besides, if any sort of shit starts up, it's better to have someone on your side.]

Look, I'm not saying I'm convinced about you, but--You seem like an okay guy, got a good sense of humor. Joe trusts you, White trusts you, and maybe that says something or maybe it just says they've got a poor judge of character. But shit, it's not as if I've got any other goddamn choice.

[Deep breath, last moment to pull out--] My name's... Fuck it, my name's Phil. Okay?

[everynerve_ending]

[It's a weird thing to get on Pink's vibe of conversation. Freddy studies him through side glances or outright watching when he doesn't think Pink---Phil---will catch him. The Professional. The Fast Talker. Yeah, okay, he can work with that. This is a doable situation.

There's a moment's hesitation before he shrugs.]

Freddy. Nice to meet ya, Phil. [No offering of hands, following his lead.] And hey, I may not be the most helpful person around, but we're all we've got.

My best idea? Get the fuck outta here, figure out where we are, and... shit, I don't know, get a motel or something. Lie low. You got an better ideas on what to do, I'm all ears.

[mr_professional]

[He shouldn't have said it. The instant the name slipped from his mouth, Phil wanted to take it back. The more he sits with it, the more uneasy he becomes. Fuck, fuck, fuck... Lacking any method of erasing his name from Orange's memory--make that Freddy's memory--he settles for twining his fingers together and pulling them apart, again, again, again.

Nervous habit. So fucking what?]

Nice name, Freddy. [If that's actually his name. Because what if the clever bastard gave a false name? That's not on the level, and shit, why hadn't he just done that, himself? Didn't stay cool in the moment. Damnit. Okay, okay, so cool down now, don't make any more mistakes, you can't make mistakes in this game.]

Assuming motels even exist--and I'll tell you, I am very goddamn uncertain on that point--that ain't a bad idea. No sense sticking around here, waiting for cops or Christ knows whatever bigshot to turn up.