[the gangster knows what to do with them; what to tell them to get their money, what words (buttons to push, triggers to pull) to say to get them to speak, spill, bleed]
[worick is the one that lacks instructions -- he doesn't know what to do with himself when it's just loneliness with another person in the room (is that it? in all his well-readness, he can't summon up the right word; does it exist?)]
[ -- he smiles, because suddenly he remembers himself (it's the only thing he ever gets to forget)]
The "don't shoot yerself in the dick with the merchandise" policy, probably. I wouldn't suggest shopliftin', f'that's what yer here fer. You won't sneak nothin' outta the boss's inventory without him noticin'.
[the smile is off-putting; he's not the type of boy to (ever) smile back reflexively]
Yah right. I ain't got a death wish. An' I ain't a thief neither!
[they both know it's a lie; every kid on the street became a thief within their first week (it was that, or a killer, or a whore -- the options usually didn't leave much room for choice)]
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Re: action; triggerfingers
[the gangster knows what to do with them; what to tell them to get their money, what words (buttons to push, triggers to pull) to say to get them to speak, spill, bleed]
[worick is the one that lacks instructions -- he doesn't know what to do with himself when it's just loneliness with another person in the room (is that it? in all his well-readness, he can't summon up the right word; does it exist?)]
[what else, Badou asks, like it's that easy]
[in the world of a child, it probably is]
...Ya ever shot a gun before?
Re: action; triggerfingers
[and while Badou is still is a child, it's always obvious that he's not a child of the above world, that's for sure]
Why? S'that the shoplifters policy?
Re: action; triggerfingers
The "don't shoot yerself in the dick with the merchandise" policy, probably. I wouldn't suggest shopliftin', f'that's what yer here fer. You won't sneak nothin' outta the boss's inventory without him noticin'.
Re: action; triggerfingers
Yah right. I ain't got a death wish. An' I ain't a thief neither!
[they both know it's a lie; every kid on the street became a thief within their first week (it was that, or a killer, or a whore -- the options usually didn't leave much room for choice)]
What'dya care if I can shoot? Ya nervous?