(no subject)

[stoneblood]

Well, this was not at all the place that door usually led to. Now he's been drugged before, once (it didn't end very well when he found out who'd done it) but he hadn't a lick of whiskey today so he knew it weren't that, and Nash considered himself a fairly well off man up there in the noggin. So as to how that cellar door lead here was something of a mystery, putting aside all that 'here' was.

Matter of fact was, though, he could waste his time trying to make a fuss or just roll with the punches. Either way, he figured it'd sort its self in time.

So that being said, "Which one'a you gonna handle my ma's wrath when I ain't home for dinner?"

He rolled a toothpick between his lips with a cheeky grin. Then, more seriously, "what makes a man irredeemable?

Comments

[red_room]

"Possibly. I wouldn't know." You don't ask. Nash's ink, clothes, and demeanor tell her more than his words could. She's more interested if the question was about himself, or if he's taking out those lower than even he.

"You're an awfully long way from Texas now, pardner." She sounds like she's trying to make a Southern accent. She's not, if she were trying she'd be succeeding. But it's about maintaining an image. Keeping things friendly.

"There's a lot to see beyond the scope of home, is all."

[stoneblood]

"Never been down south?"

Nash was some cross between roackabilly and old country style, toss in the ink and he stood out even around folks that tried really hard to relive the years of Elvis. His accent (to anyone that knew accents well) gave away the fact that he wasn't actually from Texas. A bit more subtle, alike the people you'd find native to Memphis.

As for his question? Well. The issue was something like this: while the people he collected from weren't the best of folk, particularly the ones laying bets, it was all addiction. You were an idiot to think that someone who had an addiction could properly think for themselves with some sort of rational clarity. And sure, he collected debts from some real trash that were just flat out trash. That wasn't the issue, he didn't have a problem with the fact that he did what he did. He had a problem with the fact that he enjoyed it.

Nash snorted, "You'd fit right in." A jab at her accent attempt that he had little doubt was more a joke than not. "Family businees keeps me close," he tips his head, as if to say 'know what I mean?'

There's a moment, then he continued. "Sometimes I think the Devil just lays his mark, you know? Before you're even born. Some people, they're just born bad."

[red_room]

Hasn't studied the American South in it's intricacies to know the difference offhand (hasn't had a mission that was local in quite some time, more like). If you asked her to tell the difference between different dialects of Eastern European countries and regions within a country, she'd be more on point.

Enjoying your job is a wonderful thing until you find out you shouldn't.

"Ce la vie." She does indeed, Nash. His ink and posture speak volumes that he does rough work, any scars only add to that assumption. Her own would speak volumes of hers, if she wore clothing that would show them.

"He might, lay his mark I mean. I've just always thought....even if you were born bad, doesn't mean you have to choose to stay that way. Might be harder to change, but choosing is the only freedom we have, really."

[stoneblood]

Enjoying your job is a good thing until you find out that you shouldn't. Truer words could not have been thought. That was exactly right, and he vaguely wondered if anyone else in the family struggled or had just come to accept it, but then not everyone in the family did exactly what Nash did.

He looked her over once more and started to make a few conclusions himself about what kind of person she was, or had been, or was still working on evolving away from.

"Suppose that's the truth," he said calmly, "So where are you in that?"

Just curious.

[red_room]

"I've got red in my books." Her answer is simple, but between the lines there's volumes there. "Trying to wipe it away yet."

It's closer of an admission to her line of work--at least her old one-- than she's given anyone else. She's watching closely, gauging his reaction.

And then I totally don't post comment

[stoneblood]

Nash's reaction wasn't much of one. His eyes moved from the sky and over her way again. He streched his legs out and crossed them at the heels. He listened to her talk and gave it all a subtle nod.

"Well," he let it drawl out a little, "thats more than I can say."

This was likely the closest either of them would get to that 'so, what do you do?' question that most people have when they're getting to know one another. He brough a finger up to idly scratch his nose some.

"Think I'm still looking for the reason to start washing it away."

[red_room]

"One found me." Nat shakes her head with a sigh. "Don't suppose I could bum a smoke off of you?" She doesn't usually, but this is smoking appropriate conversation, and she doesn't have as many appearances to keep up with Nash. Several, but not so many.

life is tricky that way.

"Had a hit on me for a while. Got caught." She quirks an eyebrow and shrugs. "They made a different call. So..." She shrugs. "Good of time as any to make a change."

[stoneblood]

Well, look at that. He was wrong, she flat out told him what it was that she used to do. A brow lofted, just a subtle change in expression, and he fished out the sleek metal case and flicked it open for her to take one. They were hand rolled, he liked them that way. A smile worked over his lips, "ain't nothin' more than tobacco, case you was wonderin'."

Putting the case back in his breast pocket, he thought a moment. Sure, well why not. "I'm a debt collector."

A moment, "Well I also cut hair and serve beer," a laugh, "but that ain't the heavy work. D'pends on the client, how much trouble I figure they'll be or whether they're a piece a shit or not. Sometimes it's a matter of taking what's there, sometimes it's a matter of makin' them real uncomfortable." He looked over at he again.

The Thompson's play nice up until you don't keep your word. Then they get real nasty. We're not just talking about losing fingers. Sometimes it was a lot worse than that, and of course someone who had that kind of reputation would have an occassional public run in. No man wants to be humiliated, after all.

But there was this God-like power in it all that he couldn't help but enjoy.

[red_room]

She's happy to light up and blow a ring of smoke after a moment. Easy to see why folks get addicted. No need to tell her it's only tobacco. She wouldn't have asked if she thought otherwise.

"You're muscle. Intimidation factor. Enforcer." She nods. "You carry yourself like one." She gives a smile around her gifted cigarette. "I specialized in something with a bit more....subtlety."

[stoneblood]

Nash wasn't bulky, but he was tall and every pound worth of muscle. It wasn't always in how hard you hit. It was how good you hit, and sometimes that hit wasn't the one who needed to pay. Sometimes that hit wasn't even a person. It was all in the who, and what would push them the fastest.

"Think I figured that," he said with a smile, "but I reckon you're also intel." Not just a pretty face who could likely string up any average man or woman real fast.

There was a moment of silence before a laugh came out of his lips. "Also, what's it with you red heads? Every woman I've met who could serve me a beatin' have been red heads. That just a ginger thing?"

[red_room]

"Are you kidding? They don't even let you near the dye boxes until you can wrestle a bear. Redhead rules. We have to compensate, since we're soulless and all." She has this amazing ability to say ridiculous things with the most straight of faces.

Until you wonder if she's kidding or if her world really is that weird. You never know, man.

"We keep in touch too. There's a network."

[stoneblood]

"That your way of admitting you ain't a real redhead?" He chuckled a little, "you should meet my Ma an sister then, wonder if there's a 'genetically red' advantage or if it's just the power of red, genetics or not."

Well, it was official. Nash liked her well enough.

[red_room]

"I'm as real of an anything as you want me to be." And that might be the most true statement she offers him today. Or ever.

It's a pretty good summary of her skills, nonetheless.

"Maybe I should. Bring 'em over sometime. I don't bite."

[stoneblood]

"Uhuh," he responds, quietly.

Intel, She was definitely intel. That practically sealed it. Nash only knew a few people that fit in to that kind of work. Idly wondered what they were up to these days.

"Well where's the fun in that, then?"