Everyone Knows the Game Don't Stop [Spot]

[Fiend]

It was a boring, bland, grey day outside the confines of Rainey's opium joint. Sitting with his patrons on the long, cushioned benches, he'd smoked himself pretty sufficiently as of right now. Eyes low and yet focused, Rainy had an off feeling about the people frequenting his place recently- though it could easily be his own paranoia.

Sitting up a bit to make himself more alert, Rainey soon came to terms with the fact that he really couldn't be drinking so much couch medicine while the majority of his customers were here. Heaving a sigh and feeling restless, he stood up and moved himself to the back of the den, making him able to see the majority of the people.

His mind wandered, considering selling his place for a chuck of bills to the first Chinaman to walk through the door. Buy a dance hall in Brooklyn instead. However he knew he'd have to make the place more Asian-appeasing, and that took money as well.

[spotconlon]

Spot entered the den quietly, having been given direction by a worker who shared the communal docks of Brooklyn. The boy had said there might be something there of interest for him, and he supposed that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to try. Besides, if he didn't enjoy it, he could always spend a bit of time gambling with the intoxicated fools and poke at the opportunities granted to him to take advantage of their inebriated state, scalping as much money from the den-goers as possible.

He entered, and asked where the owner was in a loud, grating voice. His Irish-Brooklynite accent didn't seem too readily accepted, and many men turned his way in irritation. At length he was pointed in the proper direction, and he made his way through the smokey contours of the place to the back.

Spot raised a hand and pounded on the door several times, loudly. He sighed, impatiently, and pounded several times, louder and harder than the first. Grumbling something to himself he leaned against the door frame, arms at his sides danglingly.

[Fiend]

Hearing a low, horrible accent penetrate his focused brain, Rainey became easy to distract. That was seriously the ugliest accent he'd ever heard in his life- and he'd heard some pretty fcuked up mixes before. Try German and French, the bastards.

The pound on his door was disconcerting, an Rainey was thrust into a bad mood immeadiatly. Before answering, he grabbed his switchblade and held in firmly in his palm, which rested in a lazy fashion slightly behind his back.

When he opened the door after yet another yelp of pounding, Rainey was ready to slide the ass on the otherside right away. However, when he saw some young kid with a stupid look on his face, he had to resist the urge to laugh instead.

"And wot might you need so urgently in an opium joint, kid?"

[spotconlon]

Spot looked around, impatiently, which a pugnacious man opened the door abruptly in front of him. In hindsight, perhaps this wasn't the best place to go. He could have a good time with a little rum or scotch instead, and half considered it until he realized that he couldn't exactly leave now that he'd been spoken to.

"Ise uh, was told 'at I could come round here for a good time?" He said, already beginning to feel uneasy. The source--the boy who'd told him to come here in the first place-- was lagging behind, coaxing free hits off of the men who couldn't tell a lightbulb from a doorknob in broad daylight, snickered at Spot's apparently moronic response.

Spot, in turn, sniggered back. He looked back to the guy, his thumbs sliding up and down the length of his red suspenders. "So, whaddya say?" he probed, though he had a smarmy look about him, pompus and arrogant in a way that he really shouldn't have been with his low statue.

[Fiend]

Rainey blinked. What in the living hell did this little....thing standing in front of him just say? It took him a second to process the words in his head. Once he got it sorted out, however, another little shit snickered over at this kid. Great, a gang of twelve year olds are storming up an opium den.

Didn't any fcuking kid have a damned parent in this town?

This kid was overly arrogant- probably a facade because he was too insecure to deal with life-to Rainey, namely when he came bursting in such as he did. In reality, any patron didn't even need to come to Rainey- they just sat down, and one of the attendants would take care of him. This kid wouldn't know that, however.

Tightening his grip on his switchblade, Rainey knew the kid wasn't actually twelve. This kid was old enough to know what to say and what not to say- old enough to take care of himself. Old enough to fcuking know what to and what not to say to a man who sells drugs in his business.

"Get the fcuk oot of here. You got five fcuking seconds."