Post by Spot Conlon (Admin) on Jun 29, 2007 18:14:04 GMT -5
((Ready for a long one? I was dreadfully bored.))
Jacky-boi, I've been waitin.'
Spot was sitting in his chair (I must admit that it's the broken one, without a foot on one leg. Spot likes.) His eyes were fuming mad. Oh, no.
So, ya got yer own plans now, huh? Strike leadeh? Ya think that Brooklyn is on yer side now, huh? Yeah ya do. Well, I dunno, it's on the brink wit me.
He looked at Jack straight in the eye with his icy glare.
How does Hattin' do witout us? Brooklyn ain't Hattin.' Brooklyn has de're own rights ya know, and we won't be followin' you around like yer fellas. We got otha things to do an' otha people- he raised his eyebrows and nodded, mentioning himself, -to follow round. I ain't sayin' Brooklyn ain't with Hattin. I ain't saying we're not. But I am sayin' you betta watch it, Jacky-boi.
He pulled a match from his pocket and lit his cigar, which he held in his hand.
How's Hattin rollin'? The Brooks, we's doin' fine, wit you, or witout you, Jacky-boi. We don't need nobody to hold us up, so don't you start believin' y'are.
Strike leadeh, he huffed under his breath.
Now I don't wanna sound negative, Jacky-boi. I just wanna do what's best for Brooklyn, and what's best for Hattin.
He stood and turned the other way, and a blow of smoke rose from his lips as he spoke.
It's up to you, Jacky-boi.
He turned to face Jack, his eyes shining with wonder.
We can do fine, both of us, bein' separate like we always were. Or we could be togetheh, like during the strike. We beat 'em togetheh. We did fine togetheh, but now the strike's ova and we have to think about our betterment. I don't know, Jacky-boi, what's right. We may need eachotheh in de future, we may not. We may become enemies. I hope not, but de'res always de possibility.
He avoided Jack's gaze, and whispered,
I owe you, Jacky-boi. I didn't trust you, and Hattin, dat you would take de strike seriously, but you did.
He looked up, his voice strong.
You have the right to ask me to be with Hattin, siding togetheh. But den I can always say no, yer not my boss.
He laughed softly, and there was a twinkle in his eye.
But then again, he started, walking up to Jack and pointing to his chest, Spot Conlon ain't the kind to be mettled with, boy.
Jacky-boi, I've been waitin.'
Spot was sitting in his chair (I must admit that it's the broken one, without a foot on one leg. Spot likes.) His eyes were fuming mad. Oh, no.
So, ya got yer own plans now, huh? Strike leadeh? Ya think that Brooklyn is on yer side now, huh? Yeah ya do. Well, I dunno, it's on the brink wit me.
He looked at Jack straight in the eye with his icy glare.
How does Hattin' do witout us? Brooklyn ain't Hattin.' Brooklyn has de're own rights ya know, and we won't be followin' you around like yer fellas. We got otha things to do an' otha people- he raised his eyebrows and nodded, mentioning himself, -to follow round. I ain't sayin' Brooklyn ain't with Hattin. I ain't saying we're not. But I am sayin' you betta watch it, Jacky-boi.
He pulled a match from his pocket and lit his cigar, which he held in his hand.
How's Hattin rollin'? The Brooks, we's doin' fine, wit you, or witout you, Jacky-boi. We don't need nobody to hold us up, so don't you start believin' y'are.
Strike leadeh, he huffed under his breath.
Now I don't wanna sound negative, Jacky-boi. I just wanna do what's best for Brooklyn, and what's best for Hattin.
He stood and turned the other way, and a blow of smoke rose from his lips as he spoke.
It's up to you, Jacky-boi.
He turned to face Jack, his eyes shining with wonder.
We can do fine, both of us, bein' separate like we always were. Or we could be togetheh, like during the strike. We beat 'em togetheh. We did fine togetheh, but now the strike's ova and we have to think about our betterment. I don't know, Jacky-boi, what's right. We may need eachotheh in de future, we may not. We may become enemies. I hope not, but de'res always de possibility.
He avoided Jack's gaze, and whispered,
I owe you, Jacky-boi. I didn't trust you, and Hattin, dat you would take de strike seriously, but you did.
He looked up, his voice strong.
You have the right to ask me to be with Hattin, siding togetheh. But den I can always say no, yer not my boss.
He laughed softly, and there was a twinkle in his eye.
But then again, he started, walking up to Jack and pointing to his chest, Spot Conlon ain't the kind to be mettled with, boy.