“I wasn’t suggesting a goddamn questionnaire, DUMMY. I just think it’s inconsiderate to rob people that don’t deserve it. Rob the scumbags, not the innocent,” she advises, shrugging a little. The girl takes a long drag of her cigarette, eyeing him. “I don’t mean to INSULT you, Pumpkin. I just think establishing MORALS is important… but that’s me.”

         When Vic said that the other was a funny guy he actually meant it. On the other hand, the word funny from his mouth could mean a lot of different things, and luckily for Ringo now it meant exactly what it should. “Well, I take a dark sort of humor over innuendos any day,” he spoke with an unlit cigarette swinging between his lips before he finally picked up the lighter from the table and lit it, “I knew a guy who saw allusions to dicks everywhere, in every song, in every movie, in every fucking signboard. That was insufferable.” 

She takes a breath to look around before speaking. The person driving her was driving wildly, but as safely as he could.

[ 📞 ] “Ok, so y’know that breakfast place on the corner that has the amazing pancakes? Can you meet me there?”

He’d hit a hard turn; her yelping because that jarred her leg. Houston hissing between his teeth in sympathy and apologizing.

[ 📞 ] “I need you to meet me there and take me somewhere. Anywhere, really. I’ll explain when I’m with you… An’ can you bring some kind of pain meds?”

A chuckle escaped him. “I mean… I could tell that, man.” He walks over, pouring a glass of water for him and his new friend; tipping it up to the man before taking a sip of his and adding “No offense.”

He wanted to just let the guy get arrested, he really did. But… The youngin’ wanted to save the guy.

“So… That woman the only partner you got? Or do I need to worry about shooting someone comin’ in here tonight?

That was only half a jest.

—————————— HIS MOUTH GOES SLACK and there’s a moment he seriously considers trying his luck at punching Cowboy square in the jaw but the upper hand continues to allude him plus his injury keeps him firmly seated where he is.

Pumpkin sets the glass of water he’s handed aside and tilts his head. He supposes he could spend a lifetime trying to figure out the con across from him, so he doesn’t dwell too much on the man’s reasoning behind their situation. They were both a pair of ramblers, Pumpkin could tell that much.

"I know - I know, man. There is some haywire karmic bullshit going on right now and I don’t want either of us getting a facelift via shotgun.” Louise sighed and focused on the glint of sunlight against his pistol, brow furrowing as she considered their options. Los Angeles was a bust - other than meeting the Englishman, of course. With their thieving disasters, together they had wrangled barely enough cash to cover their food and a dingy motel room and their chance of improving their score was diminishing by the day. “We need to get out of town and head to the desert, maybe. Lay low until the heat dies down - or until we get bored.” She grinned. “You can fuck me on the side of the highway…”

—————————— AN EYEBROW SHOOTS UPWARD. Pumpkin is sat at the small breakfast table that came with their room. It’s scratched, stained, and rickety; sort of a testament to their luck as of late. He gives his pistol an extra shove before getting up and strutting over to where Lou is, straddling the edge of their bed.

The desert had a sort of allure that called to him the more he skirted the area. While his time in L.A. had been somewhat successful in the beginning it was evident that the well was running dry and he’d have to move. He’d be sad to watch it shrink in his rear view mirror but at least he have nicer horizons to look forward to.