UNPREDICTABLE.

“What, can’t a guy visit his best friend at,” a quick glance to his phone, which is blindingly bright in the dim light, “two am?”

It’s not that he wants to be there, Hell, he’d rather be where he’d come from – a shitty little bar down on Grove Street, couldn’t remember the name of it now. The taste of alcohol was fresh on his tongue, but so was blood ( which wasn’t the only place it was. ).

                            ‘ alright, man, whatever. ‘

              bellamy’s attempt at just giving the guy the money had obviously               failed, and he was struggling to keep up his casual tone. he cleared               his pockets, all of them, and onto the ground went a pack of gum, a               baggie of weed just big enough for a joint, his keys, and his wallet.               bellamy wasn’t super concerned about any of it. his wallet only held               his license, a gift card to a frozen yogurt shop, five dollars, and his               organ donor card. 

                            ‘ i tried to give you the money, man. like what the fuck is your                               problem? i’m leaving town tomorrow anyways. it’s, like, five                               hundred dollars. i dunno about you, but that’s not exactly a                               lot of money to me. ‘

              normally, five hundred was a lot for bellamy. he had killed guys for               less. but now, it was nothing. he tried to sound tough, but his eyes               never met the man’s and his hands shook at his sides. he wasn’t very               good at being brave.

“It really isn’t a lot of money, you’re right. But look, shitbird. How the fuck would you react to losing a job, to some little shithead who’s what, you’re what, fifteen right? Alright, let’s say you’re all set up, all geared up to do a job for somebody. Then some five year old asshole, from out of town no less, comes along, takes the job, replaces you.”

And that’s really what it’s about, isn’t it? Andrew cared about money, God he loved the fucking stuff, it gave him power over others, but so did a lot of things. Doing a job for somebody, gave him a certain amount of power too, he does good by them, and they owe him.

“That’s just, that’s just not okay, is it? You might think you’re brave, but you just emptied your pockets for a guy who hasn’t even shown that he’s got a weapon. For all you fucking know, I’m empty handed here, you’ve got all the fucking cards. You could’ve had a knife, you could’ve had a gun. Hell, you still might.”

It was a thought that’d crossed his mind, the kid could have half a dozen knives tucked away in his jeans, Hell, being that it was Los Santos, it wouldn’t surprise him to find that the kid had a grenade on him. But they didn’t stay too long, nah, those were rational thoughts, thoughts that’d keep a fully functional person from verbally assaulting a ( was he even a criminal, or just a juvenile delinquent? ) criminal.

    ‘ WOULD you believe me if I said I missed your shitty attitude? ‘ It’s true – Rourke had wondered where Andy had run off to. He hadn’t seen the guy in some time, probably months now. 

“Shitty? Excuse you, there’s nothin’ wrong with my fuckin’ attitude. Just nobody can take a joke.” ( Nor do they take lightly to being manipulated, or instigated, aggravated, agitated, and so on, and so forth. ‘Jokes’. ) There’s a bit of faux indignation in his voice, maybe he recognizes his own poor attitude, but even if he did, it’s not like it’d change.

                            ‘ i mean, sure, i dunno. maybe my mom was a prostitute. i                               never really thought about her occupation. you’re a cute                               guy, i’m sure she would have slept with you. maybe i would                               have, if you didn’t threaten to kill me. but if it’s money you’re                               after, i mean, i can get you that. i’d have to go to the bank,                               though. already deposited yesterday’s pay. ‘

              running a few dozen kilos of cocaine paid well, plus a few hits here               and there. bellamy was sure he wouldn’t miss five hundred dollars,               and he didn’t mind giving this guy money if it would save his life. his               casual tone helped calm him, his hands clenched into fists in his               pockets to stop any shaking. 

                            ‘ do you like…wanna go? with me? to the bank? ‘

“Flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere.”

Flattering it may have been, there’s no sign of interest on his end, aside from the obvious greed. Hell, there were few things Andrew wouldn’t do for money – what Bellamy had suggested was on that list, though. Wouldn’t do it for five hundred, five thousand, five million – well, maybe five million. Fuck though, it wasn’t much about the money in this case, sure his greed played an important role in his life, but this was D replacing him, which was not alright.

“Oh yeah! Sure, let’s run on down to the bank, where there’s cameras, and witnesses, and security guards with guns!” A scoff. “Get your fuckin’ hands out of your pockets, idiot. Jesus Christ, how fuckin’ – how fuckin’ green are you? Suggesting we go somewhere where I could get arrested, yeah, great fuckin’ idea, puttin’ your hands in your pockets. Fuckin’ hell, do you just want me to kill you?”

Against his better judgement ( which wasn’t great to begin with ), Andrew took a step forward, not exactly towering over the boy, only three or so inches taller than him, but tall enough to look down at him, like he was a piece of meat to be devoured.