milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

OG at the bar, with coffee and buttered toast.

Come bug the normal guy.

Darien sees the normal guy.

Darien has seen a hell of a lot of guys like him.

Darien's been beat up by a lot of guys like him. He knows a gang member when he sees one. He'd been in prison often enough and he'd never joined with any of the gangs.

Something about his big mouth.

And then he studiously works at sipping on his beer and not noticing him.

Well, CJ is wearing all black, pants and hoodie, green scarf tied to his head, and wearing a silver chain.

Why, yes, everything aabout him screams 'OG!' and 'gang member'.

At least, he does not seem to be armed.

Doesn't matter. A four year old yellow belt could kick Darien's ass and he knows it.

...except that his nerves make his leg disappear.

CJ glances at the guy.

Oh, yes, predators can smell fear, and OG's can smell weaker people...

And Darien continues to pretend it's nothing.

Fucking gland.

CJ just nods to him...

"Bakersfield."

A prison in southern California.

"Not been in peels for a while, though."

CJ blinks, and raises a brow at him. "What?"

That gets a blink in response.

"Aha. Pretend I didn't say anything, will you?"

And he turns back to his Corona.

"What ye talkin' about man?" CJ is now, curious.

"Prison."

He nods.

"Been in a couple of times. If you screamed 'gang member' any louder, I'd go deaf from inference."

"Grove Street Families. Los Santos. Never heard 'bout Bakersfield"

He nods.

"Sounds...sort of familiar."

Almost like someone was changing names to protect the innocent or something. Close, but not quite.

"Southwest California, hundred miles or so north of the Mexico border."

Blinks.

"That's...about where I was."

He looks at him carefully for a moment.

"Did, like, Hitler win in your world or something? Or, like, we never entered Vietnam or whatever?"

"Nope. There is Los Santos... north-west of Los Santos, is San Fierro, and North-east, Las Venturas. Venturas is already in the desert, past the badlands."

He nods.

"See, that'd be, like, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Las Vegas where I'm from, I'm thinking."

"Never heard of these places. This 'Vegas'... Casinos?"

He nods.

"And slot machines."

He grins.

"Buggy slot machines."

Hey, it was what you did when you needed a little quick cash."

"Okay, this tops the scales of the weirdometer..."

He snorts.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, buster."

"I have seen the blue cat-man, and heard of ghosts and were-things and zombies, and that door opens in my hallway closet..." He shakes head. "I've seen a lot here"

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