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Post by Birdie Schaffer on Aug 20, 2009 22:54:30 GMT -5
She smirked a little and shook her head tapping her fingers on her knee, "You hear what I hear, Joe?" They generally got the same information at the same time, but for some reason Birdie could always have more details then her fellow Brooklynite. But that was another store entirely. She took a drag on her smoke and smudged out the embers on the crate beside her before she blew smoke into the air.
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Post by Joe on Aug 20, 2009 23:14:00 GMT -5
"Sweets is back. One sheep has returned to the flock, beaten and hungry." Joe shrugged and took his cigarette out of his mouth, taking another drag as he let it burn his lungs he whistled. "Warehouse, trains, men with clubs...Fairytale come ta life." Joe said cynically. For someone who didnt always have all the details he always knew names. Names were the way into people, it put them on guard or caught them off it. It was the name that gave the person their identity. Hence Joe. Not his name, not his identity. Just the big picture.
"Whats the birds whispering to ya?" Joe rolled his shoulders and stretched his back, his muscles moving, the cigarette hanging in his mouth as he began to stack the crates.
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Post by Birdie Schaffer on Aug 20, 2009 23:17:29 GMT -5
She looked down at him and shrugged, leaning back against the crate with a slow nod. "Much of the same, among other things. Sounds like a big grand roulette. There's gonna be war comin'..." she could feel it, when things went down. "Also hear that ol' Jack Jack wants to have a huge meetin at Meddas..." she would go for that alone but she always heard things too. "I'm alright with that there, Sweets knows the way.. I only know a direction. And that's one of Jack's closest kids-- at least Danno might get his Bakery girl back in one peace."
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Post by Joe on Aug 21, 2009 19:28:55 GMT -5
"Nevah underestimate the grit Manhattan has." Joe muttered to himself. He didnt do big gatherings when he didnt have to, when it wasnt needed. Hell he hadnt even come to the Brook meeting in the lodgings. Probably wasnt in Spots favor cuz of that either. Joe threw his hat at Birdie and dived in, letting the water ease the tension in his muscles and the cold steal his breath and sweat away. Breaking the surface he cut the water and vaulted onto the dock again.
Danno might get his Bakery girl back in one peace.
Joe just smirked and took his cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag as he fell down beside Birdie.
"You ready for the war, love?"
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Post by Birdie Schaffer on Aug 21, 2009 20:25:04 GMT -5
"You ready for the war, love?"
Birdie held his hat in her hand and frowned a bit as she thought that over, she was always thinking. "Spot aint for the big meetin' he wants a war. And I know that-- me? I aint' so sure. But if we don't make a move now, how long before we go and find them all dead?" she'd asked Spot almost exactly the same question not to long ago. With a sigh she ran her hand threw her hair and looked over at Joe.
"You're always ready for somethin.."
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Oct 9, 2009 21:32:02 GMT -5
*NEW DAY* (FOR JENSEN) Fighter walked down the docks pushing her hair back from her face. When she reached what seemed to be a deserted part she pulled herself up on one of the crates before leaning back on her elbows with a sigh. She knew the weather was going to turn soon and she wanted to get the most out of it that she could. Having walked quite a distance because she'd been at the boxing ring she was actually hot so she fanned herself for a minute and closed her eyes enjoying the sun on her face. It had been a long day, she'd gotten little sleep last night her mind turning to the events at the factory. She'd smoked a bit of the opium she'd bought just to sooth her nerves and had been up before the sun. Fight had left the house early not wanting to talk with her friends. At first she'd been able to distract herself from her crimes but now they weighed heavily on her shoulders. Fighter pushed them from her mind for the time being and glanced around debating smoking the rest of what she had. |
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Post by Jensen Flynn on Oct 9, 2009 22:24:42 GMT -5
Jensen was no fool. In order to masquerade as a dock worker with Brooklyn's uninitiated, you had to actually be seen at the docks every now and then. The last damn thing he needed was to be out with Jerry and come across a real dockworker who was adamant that he'd never seen Jensen's face before. God, that would be a fucking bitch to worm out of...
Strolling down the length of one of the docks in his shirtsleeves (as it was just too warm for his leather coat today), he stopped alongside another bunch of crates waiting to be moved, to find enough leeway from the breeze off the water to light his cigarette. Head bowed against the wind, he touched his matchtip to his smoke and puffed, snuffling smoke before pitching the match into the water.
As he stared across the water, looking toward another dock where legitimate dockworkers were legitimately working, he heard a small noise from the other side of the crates. Curious, he slowly slunk around the side of the pile, stopping as he caught sight of a pair of legs folded on one of the crates. They bore trousers, but Jensen's sixth sense, honed through years of whoring about, told him they met with a crease.
He smirked. Brooklyn girls were so much fun. Never knew whether you were gonna get laid or decked!
Catching the faint scent of opium on the air now--familiar with it through his direct boss, a frequent partaker of the stuff, who liked to invite his underlings to join him for a few puffs when he was riding high--he nodded to himself, leaning back against the crates, facing the same direction the hiding girl was.
Clearing his throat to announce his presence, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the crate that stood alongside the girl's hiding nook. "Hey, you got anymore'a that? Gotta flask of good brandy here if'n ya wanna share a hit or two."
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Oct 10, 2009 11:44:40 GMT -5
Having decided she was as alone as she was going to get, Fight had taken a hit from her pipe. She'd barely let it out when someone cleared their throat. Setting the pipe down, Fighter lifted herself up further and rolled to the side to glare down at the intruder. Not recognizing him just proved to further root her annoyance at being interrupted.
When he spoke, she raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "You think I'd share for brandy?" Not waiting for a response she turned back over and tucked the pipe in her pocket before climbing down from the crates. Turning to face him she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. "Now if you'd said whiskey I might'a been partial to agreeing."
A slight smirk crossed her face once more as she looked him over, "But you didn't." Not knowing who the hell he was had something to do with it also. It didn't matter how attractive he was, Fighter was just immediately suspicious of people she couldn't place.
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Post by Jensen Flynn on Oct 11, 2009 0:14:55 GMT -5
Jensen cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn't a fan of the opium high anyway. Dulled his hatred too much.
"Suit yourself," he sighed, and strolled around the front of the crates, crossing to the other side. For a moment, he considered just heading home again. There wasn't much to do today, and he was getting bored with watching the dockworkers strain and cuss as they worked. But he was never one to admit defeat too quickly. Instead, he hopped up on the crates, lounging on the one to the girl's left, overlooking her little nook.
He kept quiet for a while, letting her enjoy the buzz, before curiosity got to him.
"So what are you doing out here? Awful public space for partaking of the poppy, you know. 'Course, the open air keeps the smell from stickin' to you too much, so I gotta give ya credit there."
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Oct 12, 2009 20:08:24 GMT -5
As he walked away Fight leaned against the crate, her eyes fluttering shut as the high feeling coursed through her body taking some of the weight off her mind. A content sigh escaped her lips, she let herself float away for a few moments. It had all been too much for her lately, she kept dreaming of the man she so brutally killed and she felt as though she could still feel his blood on her hands. She could almost smell it at night when she was drifting off to sleep. It'd been snapping her back to reality and she'd hadn't been sleeping dvery well because of it. When she did sleep the dreams always came and it would wake her up anyway.
When she heard a voice from above her Fighter came back to reality and lifted her eyes up, surprised the man hadn't left like she'd expected him to do. "Not many people come here and if they do it's usually pretty easy to get them to leave."
Lifting the still unlit cigarette to her mouth she pulled a match out of her pocket and struck it against the side of the crates before lighting the cigarette. Taking a deep drag, "Besides I hardly care if some dock worker smells me smoking." She knew most of Brooklyn didn't care about stuff like that and if they did care it was just because they wanted some for themselves.
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Post by Spot Conlon on Apr 14, 2010 23:30:39 GMT -5
NEW DAY Spot Conlon owned the docks and he wasn't about to let anyone take that from him. No Chain Gang could keep him away from his turf. That's how he saw it, Brooklyn was his Kingdom and he was the King. He WAS Brooklyn and as far as he was concerned there was no Brooklyn without Spot Conlon.
Smirking, he leaned on his crate-- the cane he'd used as a weapon and a symbol of authority laying across the crate in front of him as he looked over the land that was his. The docks, and Brooklyn were all his to over see. There was no taking that from him, or changing his mind. Brooklyn at it's finest were all here and the rif-raff were long gone. Thank god.
If he had to beat up another twit it would be to soon, he could see it now. Another nancy little broad whining about how she lost her family and some shit. Brooklyn, was not for weaklings. You don't hack it, you end up in the river. That's how it is. |
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Apr 14, 2010 23:39:01 GMT -5
Fighter walked down the docks her eyes slightly glazed over, her usual smirk present on her face. She'd been hoping for a bit of privacy but when she saw Conlon she knew that wasn't going to happen. So instead she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag before she approached him. "Getting the lay of the land again, Conlon?"
Her voice was laced with sarcasm and her eyes twinkled a little bit. She knew she should of kept her comments to herself but she was floating a bit to high today to have much control over what came out of her mouth.
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Post by Spot Conlon on Apr 14, 2010 23:44:08 GMT -5
He looked down at the sound and narrowed his eyes, the lay a the land huh? Yeah you could say that.. with his signature smirk he watched her draw out a smoke and leaned against the crate.
"Heh, have to reclaim what is mine. How's things been in my absence, Fightah?" though to be fair it wasn't really a question, he'd seen her for a few moments when he'd first gotten back before he more than locked himself in the room. Couldn't even get the damn cat to go away. Lucky's fucking alley cat....
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Post by Fighter Mallory on Apr 15, 2010 0:02:32 GMT -5
Fighter shrugged her shoulders and took a deep drag, looking up at her leader. "I'm breathin' so there isn't much to complain about. You? Go anywhere good?"
She wasn't about to divulge what she'd been going through, she'd tried that with Zeke and it hadn't helped her feel any better. She kept her hat low as she stared up at him to avoid him realizing just how much she was buzzing right now.
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Post by Spot Conlon on Apr 15, 2010 0:09:38 GMT -5
He raised a brow at her, well that was something but not what he wanted. With a grunt he leaned down a little and used his finger to beckon her forward. She wasn't getting out of it that easily. He wanted details, then again if he couldn't get them out of Fighter he was going to get them out of Lucky.
After a beat he leaned back and let out an almost content sigh, it was a lie. Spot was never content-- ever.
"Eh? Same ol' same ol. Places to see.. people to ... deal with.."
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