I Owe You One


satoru_icon.gif tuck_icon.gif

Scene Title I Owe You One
Synopsis Satoru asks for one favor while acting on another.
Date May 25, 2009

Shooters Bar and Bistro

A place that used to be a cafe and is making a slow progression towards being a dive bar. During the day, the balcony and a good portion of the sidewalk is taken up by outdoor chairs and tables, where people can enjoy a beer as well as a sandwich or whatever else is on their menu - a decent, if simply array of bar food. During the evening, unless it's a warm night, these are taken inside, and the kitchens are closed. A wide variety of beer is available, along with hard liquor and maybe a few wine labels, but nothing fancy. The interior decor is similar to traditional British pubs, with a hardwood bar and brick wall. There's an old pool table towards the back, along with a dart board. The building is actually two storeys high, but whatever is upstairs is inaccessible to the general public.

Midafternoon at Shooters finds very few patrons in the bar; a few regulars at the bar proper, one or two sitting at tables, and Satoru … sitting at a table. Facing the door, he's got a small basket of fries, a slightly larger basket of chicken wings, and a pint of cheap beer sitting in front of him - lack of a care for ID being one nice thing about this place. While he isn't really sure what time, exactly, his mark is supposed to be showing up, he figures at the very least he should get himself a meal out of this deal. Dressed down a bit, he's wearing jeans, mismatched Chuck Taylors, and a long-sleeved black shirt under a short-sleeved shirt with a drawing of the Eiffel Tower and the text, 'PARIS: just another bullshit town.'

Tuck is not sporting a t-shirt with a clever slogan, oh no. He's just wearing a regular old ringer tee and a pair of blue jeans. He hikes up his pants as he enters and nods towards the bartender. He's been living on the Island almost twenty years - long before it became a shit-pit. That means he's intimately familiar with the cockroaches that have clung on. One of them is the bartender here, who has a glass of tomato juice poured for him minutes after he enters.

A few of the other regulars look to him with recognition, but no one else says hello. He takes a seat at the bar, peers at the menu, wrinkles his nose and orders a plate of fries. Safest thing in the house.

Taking note of Tuck's appearance, Toru takes a long sip of beer and … considers his next move. He hadn't actually been sure if he'd even see the guy today, and the thought of actually proceeding with the 'transaction' had barely occurred to him. But finally, he stands up, leaving his food behind, and takes his beer over to the bar, where he sits two seats down from Tuck. And engages him in friendly banter. "Hey, man," he holds the glass up in a small salute. "I seen you around before, you run that pawn shop, right?"

That…is a little suspicious. Tuck works his jaw to the side and regards Satoru, one brow arching. "Yeeeah. That's me." Meeting the local pawnie doesn't seem worthwhile enough to him to leave food unattended. But he'll try not to be too cynical. Instead, he lights a cigarette. "Why, you looking for something?"

Really, Toru's playing for more of a 'touristy' sort of angle. Oh, how quaint, a local entrepreneur! He must be a popular celebrity in these parts. Still grinning, he takes another drink from his beer - and really, he's going to need a refill soon or he probably would have left that at the table as well - and offers, "Actually, yeah, there is, though really I just thought I'd say hi. Think we could talk over at my table?" A gesture over in that direction. "It's a little more.. comfortable, you know?"

Tuck squints at Satoru in an almost comical way. He makes sounds by pulling air between his pinched lips. He glances back at the bartender, then over to Satoru's table. "…suuuure? I guess. Though if you want to talk business it'd be better if you came by during business hours."

Satoru rubs the back of his head, and laughs.. though it's a weak sort of laugh. "It's, uh.. to be honest, it's kind of embarrassing. I figured this place here's probably a little better for um.." He gestures weakly with one hand. "…well, er, anyway." And with that he stands, gesturing for Tuck to follow him to the table, not sitting until he sees his offer's been fully accepted.

"Look, kid. I don't sell vibrators. You want Madam Sex-a-lot in an alley off the Rookery." From the way that Tuck says that, it's hard to tell if he's kidding. He can't figure out what else he might want that would be embarrassing. He picks up his glass of tomato juice and follows Satoru over to the table.

That comment elicits a snort from the kid, who almost drops his beer and tenses up for a brief moment before relaxing again. Can't lose temper. Nnn. "Th.. that's funny, man." He forces another laugh. "Dude, that's what the internet's for. Anyway, it's just, I got this friend." He picks up a fry, gestures with it idly. "Well, I guess it's more'n ex-friend now, but anyhow this guy kinda.. I got some nude shots from when I did a stint helpin' out at an art school, and this guy kinda hinted he'd be circulatin' 'em at shops like yours."

Tuck's brows lift higher and his lips form into an 'o'. "Well. I'm sorry there punkin. I don't deal in porno. Like I said, there's a shop for that. Pawn shop, not porn shop. So uh, if you're looking for your…" and he air quotes, "…'art shots,' best check there." He slurps the bright red juice.

Rubbing the back of his head again, Toru looks at Tuck with an expression that isn't entirely convinced. "Well, I mean… even if you won't buy 'em off him, he might try sellin', right?" He bites his lower lip. "So, er, I just figured maybe we could have a sit-down sorta thing and… I was hopin' you'd help me out? Like, if he comes by, maybe buy 'em and let me know so I can come get 'em? I'd really owe you one."

Tuck wrinkles his nose. "Why do you think someone would try and sell me pictures of naked dudes? I mean, do I look like the kind of guy who wants to stock that kind of thing?" Defensive. Ooh. He clears his throat and swallows another mouthful of juice. "But on the off chance that someone tries to sell me a naked picture of you I suppose I could tell you where I sent him. But I'm not paying for the pictures. Could be some tupperware scam. A way to get me to buy 'em and then you never show up to reimburse me."

"It's a pawn shop, I didn't figure you'd have any kinda restrictions on what you carry. I mean, people buy that shit, right?" He shrugs, finishing off his beer, and setting the glass aside. … He'd meant to refill that. Oh well. "Anyway, come on, Mr. Tucker, it isn't like you have to pay that much for 'em." He looks genuinely distraught, here, hoping to catch his new friend at least a little off-guard. "Besides, it ain't like you've never owed money to anyone before, right?"

"I buy things that I can sell. Useful things. I don't buy any old…bit of crap or nudie photos." Tuck's still being fairly defensive. He keeps casting glances around. "Ah but you would be the one who would owe money to me, kid. And I don't know who the hell you are. See, that's my issue." He wags a finger at Satoru.

Toru tilts his head curiously, but finally relents with a sigh. "Well, I been to shops where they sold old Playboys or whatever; I ain't no business owner so I didn't figure you'd make a distinction 'tween that and amateur stuff, y'know?" He shrugs, smiles hopelessly. "I guess when you put it that way I can see where you're comin' from. Sorry to waste your time, man." And there, he holds a hand out to shake. "Buy you another drink?"

"Well. See, the difference is? Staten's cut off, right? So I need to stock primarily useful items. Else I'm going to run out of room fast. Different slant of business nowadays." Tuck eyes the hand, and then glances to Satoru. He sighs and says, "Okay, if I see your pictures? I'll make like I'm interested in get the guy's number. How's that? Then if you leave me yours, you can take it from there. What's your name, anyway?" He reaches for Satoru's hand, hesitantly, but he doesn't want to be a total dickweed.

Satoru considers the question a moment before answering, and the response comes as he's shaking hands. "Actually, we have a mutual friend you can find me through, I think." His handshake is rather disarmingly firm, and he doesn't release it as he's speaking. "His name is John Logan." And it's with that name spoken that Tuck feels a sudden pain in his hand where Satoru has it gripped. It's like an intense, burning, unbearably itching feeling as the skin suddenly becomes bone. And the longer he grips, the further it spreads, however slowly.

Tuck's eyes widen in surprise at first at the name, then at the burning sensation that slides up his arm. He tries to yank back, to wrench his hand free from Satoru's grasp. He's not a weak man, but he's starting to lose feeling in his digits. "What the fuck!"

And the hand is released once it's yanked away - the damage is done, really, the bone having encompassed Tuck's whole hand, not quite to the wrist. "Quiet down, yo!" He can talk a bit more naturally, now, his natural voice being a bit more faux-gangsta. "Mr. Logan wants his money back, Gil, so I figured I'd be generous and come down and have a chat with you, y'know? Cause I'm such a nice guy and all."

"What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. You…" Tuck stares at his hand, grips it by the wrist and turns it over. "What is that, what is that/?" He touches it gingerly, then just stares at Satoru. "Jesus fucking christ what did you do to me?" I'm sorry? Was there something about money? He's too distracted by having his hand BONED.

Toru rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus, shut up!" Mr. Sympathy, here; the way he's talking you'd think he didn't even do anything. "People are staring, dude. You'll be fine, yo, just pay Mr. Logan what you owe him and I'll come by again and we'll fix you up, capice?" He sounds … less than certain about that last part.

"God damnit, rrhrhrgfthg…." Tuck bites his tongue. He wants very badly to curse out Logan, but his stoolie's sitting right there. So he'll settle for just staring at Satoru while sweat starts to bead on his forehead and his teeth hurt from being clenched so much. Oh, if he had a gun. Or if he wasn't scared of what else this punk would do to him if he threw a punch. "You little rat bastard punk fucker." He stands, clutches his hand, mutters, "He'll get his fucking money," then turns to stalk out. It's like having a hand that fell asleep, except it's not going to wake up.

Really, all things considered, any such cursing out would probably be assumed to happen anyway. Given the circumstances. In any case, Satoru kind of smiles at Tuck after that string of insults, waving a hand idly and protesting, "Stop, you're embarrassing me." Clearing his throat, though, he adds, "Take your time, dawg, ain't no hurry." Just, y'know, the longer it takes the longer you're gonna have a weird bone for a hand. And now that that's over with, he sets to finishing off his hot wings. Nom.

Tuck whips around and stalks back to the table. He lifts a foot and plants it on the edge. wobbling the unstable pedestal. A glass of tomato juice and his pint go spilling down. If he's quick, Satoru will be able to get out of the way. He now has beer and tomato juice flavoured wings and soggy fries. One small act of defiance when he'd rather be beating Satoru until he's completely unrecognizable. He heads out into the street, hand shoved under his coat. "Motherfucker."

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