Mozart St.

[Barclay]

Continued from: Barclay's Apartment

Clay stood with his back against the cold stone wall, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, waiting for a customer to arrive. He didn't mind the job much, but the waiting was the most boring part of the whole thing; he needed to keep his senses sharp and alert in case of some ambush, which ruled out games or music, and he needed to be in this street because it was such a secluded backstreet and well known by his customers, which ruled out going into a café or something.

He took a hand out of his pocket to grab the sandwich on top of a nearby crate and began feeding himself to alleviate some of the boredom, but even they would only last for so long. Soon, Clay was back to being bored, back against the wall and a bottle of pop in his hands. He checked his pocketwatch and grimaced; he'd only been there for a short while.

Still, he waited, knowing that someone would arrive soon; they always did.

[Blu]

Continued from: Building A: Blu’s Apartment

She didn’t do drugs as often as the typical junkie, which meant she didn’t see ‘her’ dealer as often. Sometimes, Blu worried about how that looked, if he thought she was getting it from more than one source – hardly a loyal act. But she couldn’t afford it more often, most of her wages going towards rent with what was left over towards her medical fees. And then scraping and saving so that on the really bad days she could get blessed relief.

Blu rubbed her hands together as she slowly made her way through the network of streets, trying to keep the joints warm enough so they could be moved without intense pain. She almost missed the turning down the back street, lost in her thoughts before making a sharp turn on her heel.

“Hi Clay,” Blu all but chirped, a wide smile on her face at the sight of the man, all traces of the pained and haggled expression pushed away when faced with someone she knew.

[Barclay]

"Yo," Clay replied, offhandedly. It was the friendliest reply anyone was ever going to get out of him and Blu was lucky enough to get that and not just a grunt. Though to be fair, Blu was probably the only one of his customers who could actually string together a coherent sentence and did so whenever she spoke to him so it was only right that he'd attempt the same. He wasn't a friendly guy, but he made an effort to be civil.

He glanced in her direction, seeing the standard, happy grin on her face that she had on whenever he saw her. He was aware that she sometimes tried a bit too much and her happiness did come across a little... 'off', but it wasn't any of his business what bothered her so he never asked. He had his suspicions though, since she seemed to be the furthest thing you could get from a junkie.

"The usual?" He reached into his inside pocket and took out one of the packets, holding it up for a bit for her to see; the street was remote enough for him not to be too bothered about checking to see if anybody was around first.

[Blu]

“Please,” Blu replied, eyes tracking to the small bag for a moment. It always surprised her that people could get so hooked on what were essentially dried herbs. She supposed she was nobody to talk, considering her own reaction to it – Blu just couldn’t imagine getting addicted to pot so that all she cared about was getting her next fix.

She reached for her purse, movements slower and more awkward than usual as her fingers refused to act the way they were supposed to and undo the clasp in a fluid motion although she finally managed it. Blu’s fingers froze as the purse opened into the two main segments, one half stuffed with small photos and pieces of paper, the other half containing actual money.

Her favourite photo of Flynn was along those in her purse – her Coffee Monkey being suffocated by Mica in an affectionate mood.

He’ll be fine. He’ll show up and then I’ll kick his ass for making me worry…

Finally her fingers moved again, pulling out the small handful of bills that she already knew made up the correct price.

[Barclay]

He had noticed her awkward movements though he said nothing; again, it was none of his business what was wrong with other people... that, and he didn't really care, to be honest. As long as they bought the shit they were here to buy, that's all that mattered to Clay. He waited patiently for her to take the money out and although he knew that it would be the right amount he counted it anyway, more out of habit than distrust.

He handed her the small packet and pocketed the cash. "You gonna be alright rolling joints?" He had meant it as an off-hand comment, implying that he doubted her knowledge as opposed to her ability to make the joints themselves.

[Blu]

It didn’t bother her when he counted out the money to make sure it was right. She supposed it was simply what happened when you did the sort of thing Clay did for a living and dealt with all kinds of people.

Blu accepted the small packet, staring thoughtfully at the green leaves inside and trying to imagine what it would feel like to put the correct dose into the paper and then roll up the joint against how much it hurt to bend her fingers right now. It certainly was going to be a painful process and after a moment or two of staring and biting at her bottom lip, Blu shrugged.

“I guess…” The tone was uncertain, far less sure than the words would have otherwise implied.

[Barclay]

If Clay didn't have the self-restraint that he did he'd probably have a shrewd grin on his face at Blu's reply. He put his hand inside his jacket again and rummaged around trying to find the right packet among the other 'stuff' that he had and eventually pulled out another small packet; this time filled with 3 pre-rolled joints. He gave the packet a little shake. "I could let these go for an extra twenty," he said.

Ordinary people would probably feel bad, taking advantage of someone in such a way but this was his job and he had targets to meet; he had to do so via whatever means happens to present itself. This was just one of those moments. 'Sides, she looked like she'd need to smoke one before being able to roll one. If he cared, he'd tell himself he was being compassionate but as it was, he didn't give a rat's ass.

[Blu]

Blu had decided after about three meetings with Clay that the two of them were eventually going to become friends. He looked like he needed one and she had quickly come to realise that he wasn’t nearly as scary as he pretended to be; that or she was in a serious need of a fear transplant. It was a hobby and Blu had to stifle a laugh that that thought – she couldn’t help but imagine the look on Clay’s face if he found out he was a hobby.

Admittedly her plan hadn’t progressed as far as she would have liked but Blu was nothing if not an optimist. Selfishly, working on Clay also distracted her from her own problems.

Part of her knew she was being played as he offered her the pre-rolled joints but Blu was tempted. It would be a lot less painful… and she could always pretend that he had nicer reasons than he really did. Denial worked well after all. With a sigh she pulled her purse open again, slowly counting out another twenty, a rueful smile on her face.

[Barclay]

Clay was mostly unaware of Blu's plan for friendship; if he had known, he'd have done everything in his power to try and deter her actions. If there was one thing he was certain that he did not need it was a friend. In his experience a 'friend' doesn't exist; people use friendship to hide their intentions of betrayal, stomping all over the trust that you invest just so they can better themselves. It was a bit of a negative view of things, but given his past experiences with people, coupled with his choice of 'profession', it was hardly surprising.

He put a cigarette (of the ordinary kind) to his lips and lit it with his Zippo as he waited for her to decide, then root around for more money. He felt sort of bad that she had to go back into the purse to get the money but he told himself that she'd be fine once she got one of those joints lit. They were slightly lower grade, but were still very good. That's what he assumed from what he'd heard, anyway; the extent of Clay's smoking habit stretched to ordinary cigarettes only, since the effects of the drugs would wear off faster than he could smoke, rendering it pointless.

He held the small packet out to the girl with one hand, holding his cigarette with the other as he exhaled, letting a lungful of smoke escape with his breath.

[Blu]

He would require more patience and time to wear him down and convince him that he did want a friend and more importantly than that, he wanted her as a friend. Blu was fully convinced that eventually he would come to realise the wisdom in her idea. It wasn’t as if she was expecting anything from him in return for friendship; there wasn’t anything from him she really wanted aside from his pot and she was more than willing to pay for it. Showing Clay the light would take a while yet, and it gave her something to look forward to.

Finally the notes were all pulled out and carefully counted. She handed him the money and took the small packet carefully. Blu shuffled backwards, attention temporarily focused on the items in her hands and the delicate juggling act she was forced to do to keep them all together. The young woman settled herself down on the nearby crate, slipping the bag of loose drugs into her purse and snapping it shut. The purse was clumsily dropped back into her bag so that only the small packet of already rolled joints was left.

“I wonder what the effect of pot on cats is…” Blu mused, mostly aimed to herself as she eyed them. All sorts of strange things affected to cats, things that she wouldn’t think would and the last thing Blu wanted to do was hurt Mica. Flynn would never forgive her. “Can’t poison my new houseguest.” Which meant she would have to smoke her joint right there both to protect Mica and to give her faster relief.

[Barclay]

Poor sod probably wouldn't stand a chance if Blu is as determined as she is. Not that he's not one to go along with something just to shut someone up; he'd fight his corner to the very end on matter to do with his work, or if he was being told to do something that was against any beliefs he may have... but arguing over friendship would be new territory.

He started flicking the lid of his Zippo lighter open and shut out of boredom, looking forward to telling his boss he'd shifted all of the gear for that allocated time-slot already - he had just two more bags of marijuana to sell and he'd be done. Targets being met usually meant a hefty bonus.

He took Blu's money but this time didn't bother counting it before pocketing it - she was trustworthy enough, from the looks of her, and besides, the low grade stuff wasn't as important. He watched her settling onto the crate and stare at the little bag. "Cats?" He thought on it for a moment, scratching at an itch on his nose. "They get the same symptoms as humans. I'm guessing it's a similar effect to catnip. Wouldn't recommend giving them a spliff though." Ah, the wonders of the internet and copious amounts of boredom.

Clay held his lighter out to his side, poised to light it should she decide to smoke a joint there.

[Blu]

She couldn’t help the little inward victory shout of ‘Success!’ when Clay actually responded to her random musing on cats. It was a conversation and any type of conversation that wasn’t about prices and amounts was an improvement in Blu’s eyes. It was just another step in her plotting and a fun one at that, especially considering how almost silly the topic had been. She loved to talk about things that other people might consider ridiculous and treat them as deadly serious things – to her they were completely serious and mind tasking thoughts.

“Now I have the image of Mica strung out drugs. Ugh, that isn’t a good idea,” Blu said with a slight shudder. The young woman regretted the movement as soon as she had done it, spikes of pain flaring through her at the shake but by then it was too late to take the action back. “Last thing I need is the cat acting like that…”

The small packet was prised open, Blu fumbling in it to grasp on the joints. They seemed stupidly small or perhaps her fingers were suddenly large and fat, unable to easily grasp things but eventually one was between her fingers, ready to be lit.

[Barclay]

He waited until he was sure the joint was lit before flipping the lid of his lighter shut and dropping it back into his coat pocket. He said nothing further about the cats: offering information and knowledge that he had was one thing, since he could use it to be a smarmy git; but speculation and light conversation wasn't something he usually partook in. He wasn't really a cat-man anyway, if he was honest.

As he continued smoking in silence, he found his mind wandering to the night before, and the deal that had gone so terribly wrong. His wound was starting to bother him slightly but he showed no outward signs of there being anything wrong, as he did out of habit. Clay was never one to show any signs of weakness in any sort of situation so he wasn't about to start from an itty-bitty scratch on his arm.

[Blu]

Blu would have preferred it if he had carried on the conversation, if there had been such an obvious piece of proof that she was starting to wear him down and turn him into a friend but she wasn’t about to hit him on the head or sulk that her vague plan hadn’t reached that level yet. There was still plenty of time – she hoped – and even offering up titbits of information was an improvement on the first few times they had met.

She sighed softly, feeling the effects of the drugs start to hit her body. Soon enough they would relax her, take away the pain and hopefully ease the knotted feeling in her stomach although she somewhat suspected that it was less to do with actual nausea and more to do with worry over Flynn. There was also the fact Blu knew the drugs affected her enough to blurt out all sorts of random information. If she was lucky she wouldn’t accidentally warn Clay as to her plans.

[Barclay]

If Blu's plan ever met success Clay would probably look back and pinpoint this moment as the time that he should have escaped. As it was, he was absolutely and totally oblivious to the devious plotting that was going on in the mind of his present company. He probably wouldn't realise until it was too late to get away from Blu, anyway. He was a bit dense on that front.

Clay gave her a quick glance, noting that her shoulders were starting to relax a little, and letting a satisfied smirk grace his lips for no more than a few seconds. The stuff must be starting to work, he mused. It never surprised him how quickly the effects of the drug became apparent but noting the differences between various customers was, nevertheless, interesting. Well, it was a way to pass the time.

He took out his watch and checked the time. He wasn't expecting anyone else; he knew a slow day when he saw one. Still, he decided to stay there, since it wasn't like he had anything better to do at the moment. As soon as Blu leaves, he'll probably wander along and grab himself another hot drink before coming back for another wait.