streetspeakin:

‘  WELL,  LAYNE, ’    he starts, gently laying the hand offered to him onto his lap
so that he can begin spacing the gauze between each sore digit,  ‘ some friendly
advice  for  ya:  pick up a paper sometime.   turns out it don’t just make for a good
splint,  s’got words on it.  important ones. ’    ( now he’s just being a dick.  a dick
with gentle touch and first-aid know-how. )  ‘  PD’S  crackin’  down.  things ain’t
lookin’ so hot in the case of street brawlers.     hired a whole slew of new dudes –
some of ‘em just kids,  but  big  ones.   not the nicest bunch, either.   watched ‘em
hound on my boy brady just fer slingin’ some brass knuckles around.    high  with
power. all that shit. ’ he omitted the part where brady was actually no friend of his,
but rather the sore  loser  whose ass he’d  whooped  in the circle prior;   and  that
those brass knuckles had been the mother of the  split lip  he’s currently sporting.
‘  after that, we started keeping eyes in low places. kind of ironic, y’know? a neigh-
borhood watch for people lookin’ to smash each other’s teeth in. keepin’ ‘em safe
tonight so they can kick ass tomorrow.

 … point is, it’s not the best idea to be bringing this shit to the surface right now. if
you can’t afford the time to read,  maybe just use your  eyeballs.  ’  in  lieu  of  the
seriousness of his tone,  the light drawl of his accent seems to momentarily disap-
pear.  eyes cast up from his work to offer layne a hard stare just before flicking up
above his head to the brick wall behind him. it’s painted with a rather haphazardly-
tagged target, black and dripping and long since dried.  a real piece of work.  his
work. more importantly, a common omen, marking the city like points on a map of
where not to tread when you’re all black-eyed and bleeding.

‘  … consider it a warning from your good pal
  CLINT.  can you roll your sleeve up for me?  ’

another wince was given as the gauze was brought between each finger yet he kept his
hand still. the less movement, the better the work done. his eyes rolled with what the
other was telling him and he held back a scoff. a part of him wished he was in a better
mood to appreciate the snarkiness in the tone of voice. he listened and nodded his head
when it was mentioned that the cops were coming down on fighting rings. as a weekly
participant of one he could make good money off of, he knew that full well. knew the hoops
they had to jump through just so they wouldn’t get caught, and the past few weeks had
been more strained than they used to be. even with, they managed to get by and let those
that wanted or needed to fight duke it out. what he’d just participated in was some asshole
calling him out. the smallest things got to people and he was more than happy to teach a
lesson or two. but it wasn’t like this guy needed to know any of that.

“ thanks, CLINT, ” probably no reason to remember this guys name if this was to be the
only time they’d meet. but he’d make the effort anyway. “ i know the cops have been getting
worse with the whole fighting rings. couple guys just pissed me off on the wrong day,
though. ” his other hand was used to roll up the sleeve, moreso just pushing it up all the way
to his elbow. he wouldn’t mind holding it there if it slid down. it was just easier so he could
get the rest of his hand wrapped more quickly. “ didn’t think i did this much damage to
myself at first. ”