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Post by muder on Sept 19, 2008 21:18:00 GMT -5
Heather smiled. "Just as a bodyguard? Friend? Brother?" She bit her lip. "And I know I'm a selfish woman--but, I can't be that much with you. You're giving me a lot--willing to do a lot. But what do you want from me?"
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Post by nicke on Sept 19, 2008 21:59:54 GMT -5
Nick shrugged. "You've already given me what I want"he said. "You back in my life"he gave her a half grin. "Maybe... Id like something more, but for right now I think it would be best to say friend... and bodyguard"He picked her hand up and ran his fingers over the top of it lightly. "A lot has happened to you since I last seen you and I dont think it would be very... good?"He wasnt sure if that was exactly the right word he was looking for. .. "for me to add more of it at right now." he wasnt sure if he was really making much sense right now. He wasnt the best at explaining things.
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Post by muder on Sept 19, 2008 23:31:16 GMT -5
"Well I'm glad I could give you that." Heather nodded, pulling her hand away, frowning slightly. Rejected; he was a vicous tease for that ear trick then, getting her hopes up. "I understand." She settled on her stoic face, her features becoming a unreadable mask. She took another long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out in tendrils. "As my body guard, you'll respond to all threats to my person unless I say otherwise--and contrary to what my father will tell you, you work for me, not for him. Meaning, if he's the threat, you take him out as well." She paused. "And if you see Lucas, I want him kept away from me. I want nothing to do with him right now. If ever again." Business, business.
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Post by nicke on Sept 19, 2008 23:37:38 GMT -5
Nick looked down and sighed a bit as she pulled her hand away. Hed already messed up. Nick did want more, but he wasnt sure if it wold be right for him to do that to her right now, almost like hed be taking advantage. He didnt know how long it had been since lucas left and he didnt want her to be jumping into anything to fill the loss. He looked back up at her as she spoke and he nodded. "alright..'He said. "is there... anything else that I should know right away or is that it for now?"he asked.
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Post by dannyblue on Jun 26, 2009 9:45:27 GMT -5
>>New DAY<<
(For Jensen Flynn and whoever else)
Danny Blue straightened his tie, making his way to the stands and avoiding bumping into strangers. Bumping into them himself, he'd lift a wallet or two, so who knew better than to avoid getting bumped than Danny?
Flynn had told him to meet him in the stands. Danny had picked a seat close to the aisle. He'd take Jensen out of sight better and quicker if things turned sour. But he had a feeling he wouldn't need to, just something about him... Besides that Danny didn't like getting into fights.
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Post by Jensen Flynn on Jun 27, 2009 2:08:58 GMT -5
The drop made, Jensen bounded up into the stands, looking for his newest partner. Danny was easy enough to spot--the impeccable dark blue suit against his light hair made him stand out, but more than that, the boy had an air of nerves today. Not that Jensen blamed him. He could remember the first time the bosses had put him to the test, and he'd damned near shat himself when he realized he'd walked right into a trap. He'd also heard about Danny Blue, knew he didn't carry much love for the Mafia. He only went Mob to keep from being Mobbed, they said.
Still, he seemed like an okay kind of guy. Jensen liked him. For now.
Taking a seat alongside Danny, Jensen adjusted the collar of his jacket and murmured, "Done and done. Guy was a little reluctant to play the game, but... I think I convinced him." He gave Danny a wink and opened his jacket slightly, just enough to flash Danny a glimpse of a shoulder holster, which currently cradled a shiny Philadelphia Deringer .22 revolver.
"So," he said in a conversational volume, stretching his legs out and leaning back in his seat to tuck his hands behind his neck, "mind if I ask, who sent you out on this job?"
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Post by dannyblue on Jun 27, 2009 22:39:43 GMT -5
Catching a glimpse of the gun, Danny grew even more nervous. So Jensen was in the game for keeps. Well, of course he was! Danny figured he himself was the only one who didn't carry a gun in the mob. Not that he was really in the mob. Not like Jensen. Guns made Danny nervous as hell, so no way would he even be caught dead with one. He was a con, not a murderer.
Danny took a deep breath, looking back to the track and other spectators still taking their seats, "Kelly." Danny shrugged, "Or well, a lacky. Still..." He paused, looking to Jensen quizzically. Jensen had been around the mob block, Danny guessed, a few times. At least more than Danny even cared to go. "What was your first test? You said they did the same to you? How long ago?"
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Post by Jensen Flynn on Jun 28, 2009 2:26:17 GMT -5
((Long post is looooooong... Go get a drink.))
Reaching into his inside pocket, Jensen pulled out a silver cigarette case (one of few surviving souvenirs from his life as part of the Rochester elite), retrieved two cigs and tucked it away again. Lighting them both, he passed one to Danny and chuckled.
"My test was hell. Oh, I cocked it up so much!" Taking his foot off the back of the seat in front of him, he straightened up in his chair, laying his arm across the back of Danny's seat. "It was two years ago, I'd only been in the game for two weeks, and I woke up one morning, left the building, and there was this guy standing under the stoop, waiting for me. He tells me there's someone wants to see me in Harlem, and I'm supposed to be there in two hours. Everything about this guy--his suit, his look, his roscoe, even his friggin' hat--just screamed he was legit, so I went with it.
"So I head out, get to the place, and friggin' Razor Riley himself is standing right there, waiting for me. Picture it, man, I'm two weeks green, and Razor Riley is wanting to talk to me. I coulda pissed myself, I was so surprised. Anyway, he tells me he's got a job for me, and at this point he coulda told me he wanted me to clean his carriage with my tongue and I'da done it. He says he wants me to go to take a message to Big Tim in the Bowery for him, and he hands me a sealed envelope, and I'm pretty much shakin' in my boots 'cause all they had me do up to then was just a bunch of penny-ante skunkin' and four-flushin'.
"I go to Tammany Hall and Rough House was waiting for me. That shoulda been my first clue that something wasn't right here, but I was wet behind the ears and didn't see nothing coming. Rough House tells me he's here to take me to Big Tim and make sure I don't screw everything up, and he takes me down the block and into this alley.
"There's a guy waiting there who says he's Big Tim's right hand. He's pretty young, but what do I know, so I go with it. I give him the envelope--strike one, if someone gives you something to give to someone else, you make sure you give it to that person and no one else no matter what they tell you, don't ever fall for that, it'll get you killed--and he opens it. It's full of papers, and he looks up at me with this really pissed off look, and I'm thinkin' Razor was tryin' to buy off Big Tim for something and Big Tim wasn't gonna be bitin' or something, but he starts asking me where I got it and sayin' tryin' to play with the big boys is a good way to get a rat killed.
"I got no idea what he's playing at, so I look at Rough House for some help, and the bastard's got his tommy on me! I don't know what the hell is goin' on now, and they're both wanting to know how I got past Harrington and what I though I was doin' down here. I'm telling them that I'm just delivering a message for Big Tim for the boss, and they tell me Big Tim's out of state and the boss knows it, so who really sent me? I'm totally in the dark, no idea what's goin' down, and they finally break it down for me like I'm some kinda dummy: someone lifted the title deed for the New Brighton from Paul Kelly himself, right out from under his nose, and was gonna sell it out to Monk Eastman, the boss from the east side, and double-cross Kelly.
"They're saying I must be the one wanting to sell Kelly out, and I'm ready to shit myself 'cause there's no way I won't be at the bottom of the river tonight, right? But then they realize I'm nothin' but a lackey and there's no way I coulda gotten anywhere near Kelly, so I must be makin' the drop for someone else, and start grillin' me about who I'm working for. Like hell I'm gonna tell them Kelly's right hand is selling him out, so I'm playing dumb as hard as I can. I can't remember who gave me the stuff, I can't remember what he looks like, I can't remember where we met, I can't remember what he said... And then the kid says that if I ain't got anything useful, there's really no reason to keep me around, and that scared the piss outta me so I started spouting off a bunch of bull about some guy who met me outside my door, who told me I needed to deliver a message to Big Tim--skipping right over meeting with Razor Riley, see--and I didn't know who he was, but he was kinda tall and wore a blue suit and a grey bowler and carried a Deringer and I didn't think I'd ever seen him before, but I could probably recognize him if I saw him again--and if I was the only one who'd seen him for sure, they kinda needed me breathing for a while longer, right?"
Jensen took a long drag from what was left of his cigarette, trying to mask the tremble in his fingers. It had been two years since then, and it had turned out alright, but he'd really, seriously thought he was going to be killed that day, and he'd been terrified.
"Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Rough House and the kid started to laugh, and Rough House put his tommy away and slapped me on the back so hard I almost fell over, and the kid showed me the envelope and it was nothing but a bunch of paper scraps, and Rough House says, 'Okay, kid, you done good. Go home and have a big ol' glass of hooch, you done Kelly and the boys proud.' Next day there was a meeting, and Johnny-Boy Stabia told me I just survived my test. And that was it."
((Paul Kelly was the boss of everything west of the Bowery at the time. Razor Riley was one of his lieutenants. Big Tim was Tim Sullivan, a politician who's widely credited with fostering the criminal/government relationships, and who pretty much ran the Bowery and the Lower East Side. Rough House and Henderson were Kelly's bodyguards. Monk Eastman was Kelly's arch rival, boss of the East Side and constantly in battle with Kelly over territory rights of the Bowery. The kid, though not named here, is Johnny Torrio, a street hood who caught Kelly's eye and later took over the Five Points Gang, Kelly's "alma mater" gang.))
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Post by dannyblue on Jun 28, 2009 12:19:08 GMT -5
Danny didn't smoke much at all, but didn't want to be a bad sport or insult his new 'friend', so he took the already lit cigarette from him, taking a drag. He leaned back in his chair a bit, elbow bent on the arm rest, listening to Jensen's story. Jensen draped his arm behind Danny in a rather friendly manner, too friendly, in Danny's opinion. Not that he wouldn't have done the same. Closeness implied security, acting like a long lost chum. Danny Blue knew how it went. But he doubted Jensen was about to talk him into any phony investments.
Jensen talked, long and detailed, like he was reliving the night in his head. But something like that one wasn't about to forget. As he finished off, and Danny had the manners to remain silent for the entire time, Danny noticed the acute tremble in Jensen's hand as he took his drag. Danny took another as well, to be polite. He hadn't hardly even blinked during the story. As riveting as it was, and how Jensen had told it, Danny couldn't help but think something equally as terrifying was in store for him. No way could this simple task of placing a bet be his test. What would they have done to him if Jensen hadn't come around? Or maybe Jensen came around to change his mind and Danny folded like a cheap suit. It didn't really matter as the race hadn't even started yet.
He wanted to trust Jensen. He missed working with a team. Not that it would be happening any time soon. The big cons were gone. Too much time and attention to detail that Danny simply didn't have any more thanks to the Mob. Danny watched Jensen silently for a moment, thinking over the story and figured he had to believe him. He also figured he better say something before Jensen thought he was asleep with his eyes open.
Flashing an appreciative smile, Danny chuckled shortly, "Cor, kick me in the Markets, that takes the biscuit from mine, don't it? Lucky for me, Flynn, you was here. Or I'd be returnin' to Kelly well up the creek, wouldn't I?"
((380! And not entirely fail!))
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Post by Jensen Flynn on Jun 29, 2009 12:03:16 GMT -5
"A word of warning, friend," Jensen said, his tone deathly serious. "Get used to having a snipe on you. Every time you walk in the building, every meeting you go to, there will always be a tommycock there, and he'll always be trained on you. You're the new guy, and you're a limey, and everyone knows you don't wanna be in. They're not gonna trust you for a long time."
He stubbed out his cigarette on the back of the seat in front of him and dropped the butt on the ground.
"Be careful who you trust, but make sure it seems like you trust everyone. Don't give anyone a reason to think you're hiding anything. I know, nature of the game makes that impossible, but you're gonna hafta find a way. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, and don't piss off the wrong people." He clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder, let it linger a moment. He knew he was likely scaring the crap outta the poor son of a bitch, but someone had to tell him what's what. Johnny-Boy had taken a shine to Jensen when he was green, shown him the ropes even though he wasn't a wop; it was high time Jensen passed it on.
"I like you, I think. Don't wanna hear that you've been fit with a new pair of cement floorshines, get it?"
The bell rang, warning that the race was about to begin. Everyone who'd been meandering through the stands quickly found a seat, turning intently toward the track. Just what Jensen and Danny needed to break the tension of their conversation.
"Ah, here we go," Jensen said, he voice back to the light, casual tone he usually affected. "Our boy's the one in the blue silks, number seven."
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Post by dannyblue on Jun 30, 2009 10:28:19 GMT -5
Danny listened to Jensen, to his warning, and was glad the man had picked up on Danny's fake gratitude. Jensen appearing just after Danny had made his bet did look suspicious. But nothing would be proven until after the race.
But Jensen was right, this new way of life Danny had found himself scared the living daylights out of him. Maybe he should have started carrying a gun. But he doubted he could ever shoot anyone. Probably end up accidentally shooting himself first.
"Thanks, Flynn," Danny said, but Jensen may not have heard it over the bell. He turned his attention to the horses.
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Post by Shannon Murphy on Oct 13, 2009 19:18:15 GMT -5
[New Day]
Shannon had discovered that exploring New York City had become one of her favorite activities. She never knew what she might discover tucked down a street or just around a bend; it was all so different from Ireland but not in a bad way just...different. Sheepshead Bay, well Coney Island in general, had been one of her finer discoveries and Shannon settled back into a seat to enjoy the upcoming race. She wasn't a betting gal by nature, but she was an adventurous one, so she'd wagered a bit on the horse called Four Leaf Clover - mineaswell stick with what she knew - and hoped the horse would return on her investment.
She hummed under her breath as she waited for the race to start, drumming her fingers against her thigh in a subconcious gesture. Shannon hadn't been sure about the move to New York when Sean had initially talked about it but now, now she thought it might not have been a bad thing at all.
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Post by tobias on Dec 3, 2009 23:03:51 GMT -5
Tobias looked around for a place to sit and watched the race. He looked around and caught sight of an empty seat beside a pretty brunette. He made his way over to the vacant seat. "This seat taken?" He looked the girl over, racking his brain trying to recall where he had seen her before. Maybe it was McGinty's while he was working...
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Post by Shannon Murphy on Dec 4, 2009 8:36:47 GMT -5
Shannon looked up as someone asked about the seat next to her and she smiled when she saw a handsome young man, nodding her head and waving in the direction of the seat. "No laddie, the seat is yours should ye like it." She turned to look at him and tilted her head as she noted he looked vaguely familiar. Shannon hadn't been in the city long enough to remember names and no doubt she saw a great deal of faces through the course of her days wondering the city, and during her shifts at McGinty's, but his seemed more familiar than most.
She searched her memory, finally recalling seeing him during a particular busy night at McGinty's working behind the bar, they hadn't had a moment to exchange introductions and she smiled brightly at him now. "Ye work at McGinty's, aye?" She asked, glancing down at the track where the horses were still being prepared for the race and then back over at the man beside him.
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Post by tobias on Dec 7, 2009 23:00:25 GMT -5
Toby smiled and sat down in the seat next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He glanced down at the track. The horses and riders were still prepping for the race.
"Ye work at McGinty's, aye?"
Toby turned to the lady next to him and flashed her his most charming smile. "Yeah. The name's Tobias Whitelaw. But, everyone just calls me Toby." He crossed his arms in front of his chest--the muscles in his arms becoming more prominent. "I work at McGinty's most of the time, but on my days off, you'll probably find me in the boxing ring." He lifted his hand up and touched the bruise on his cheek-- his most recent 'battle wound'-- and then dropped his hand and tucked it back into the crook of his arm.
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