Riff

"No girl with common sense would let ya come near a kid, Riff. Hell, ya think I oughta be let near a kid? Trusted with one? I ain't knowin' the first thing 'bout kid care. Honestly, it fuckin' scares me that I apperantly got like... five months to learn how, an' I doubt the internet is an accurate resource."

It terrified him, the thought of having to care for someone else, someone who was depending on him to do it.

"I can barely keep myself alive, dude, like, I live on microwaved food and instant noodles. Takeout. I can't fuckin' cook. Don't get me started on laundry, because that shit is a mystery to me. Throw shit together in there, hope for the best."

It wouldn't really work that way with a kid, he knew as much.

"Oh I need money alright. I'm fuckin' screwed with the extra costs raisin' a kid will cost. Do ya have any idea how expensive that is?"

He rambled a little, and he knew it, closed his eyes and swallowed.

"She waited this long to tell ya? Damn, I thought this was a new thing and her gettin' rid of it might be an option. Ya really are fucked, huh? Well, I guess she's tha one who got fucked." Riff ignored the comment about him being a punching bag, this had all happened because he instigated and allowed it, anyone else would have gotten a bullet for a swing at him, much less a hit.

Riff listened to his friend and fellow Jet ramble with a raised brow. "I get it, yer no housewife, cry me a fuckin' river. She didn't ask you ta be her hubby or nothin', right? Yer gettin' off easy."

Riff shook his head again and rubbed his finger and thumb together. "Ya know what this is? It's the world's smallest man playing my heart bleeds for ya on a tiny violin. You're being a whiny little bitch. And if yer lookin' to choke...like I said..."

He didn't follow, Mouthpiece was far too pissy and upset to be dealing with Riff's taunting, and that was no fun. But he did make a mental note to check on him later. He didn't want his friend/occasional antagonist to actually drink himself to death, or whatever else he was planning on consuming.

"Don't do anythin' I wouldn't do, daddy-o."

"Yeah sure, I'm only gonna have ta care for a kid for eighteen damn years. Easy as hell. Fuck off, Riff, fuck off. You's full of shit, an' it ain't your business what I do, not when I ain't workin'." He turned back around, frustrated, storming off, letting the door slam behind him, walking away, going home, up to his shitty apartment, that no doubt could be better, but rent was one thing he hated spending money on.

He didn't bother to grab a glass, only a bottle, making his way to his couch. "Good job, now ya fuckin' did it, didn't ya?" He sighed, opened the bottle, taking a swig of the contents. It was far from a good idea to drink alone like this, let alone drink straight from the bottle, unmixed, but he'd made worse choices in his life. He suspected Riff would be by either way, not that he really wanted him to.

"Can do it myself. Don't need your help." He pulled away, stood up as she was digging through the first aid kit. This wasn't exactly new, rumbles happened, people got hurt, that was really how the life was, it was something Mouthpiece knew all too well.

It wasn't even the worst injury he'd ever had, it'd scab over, heal up, leave yet another scar, not that he cared, not at all.

“Well, it will soon hurt less.” This sort of behaviour no longer phased her, nor did it stung as much as it used to. He was not the first to treat her as lesser her and he would not be the last one.

“Never said that you couldn't, it'd be faster if I help though.” The notion of rumbles still took some getting used to. It was not as if Paris was some fight-free zone. Even almost a decade after its liberation, the war lingered on and haunted its streets. However, this level of gang-violence was completely new.

Mouthpiece took a seat, grabbing a bandage, not bothering to grab gloves or anything to clean the wound with. It'd be alright, far as he was concerned. He pulled his shirt up, revealing a deep looking cut to his side, definitely beyond what bandages could easily fix.

"You better. Wouldn't kill ya to care a bit, ya know. Care a bit 'bout your guys." He spat out the last word, glared at Riff, wiped his hands on his jeans, his anger less for now, just flipping Riff off, rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I've takin' plenty'a punches, and you've been witness to a lot of em. I can take it, ya punch like a fuckin' girl anyway." Riff smirked, "See? I can help, so don't be such a fuckin' grouch."

Riff rolled his eyes again, at this rate they were going to get stuck into position with Mouthpiece around. "Did I not just say that if ya were ta have a kid ya wouldn't be in it alone? How's that for not carin'?" And he'd meant that, even if it seemed like something Mouthpiece wanted no part of.

"I mean if ya need money, I'll work something out for ya. I wouldn't call it a raise as I don't give ya salary, but work isn't in short supply." Riff shrugged, "No, I don't need ya, especially since yer so uptight about blowin' me." He smiled again, "Do ya need me, or are ya gonna be lonesome tonight?"

"No girl with common sense would let ya come near a kid, Riff. Hell, ya think I oughta be let near a kid? Trusted with one? I ain't knowin' the first thing 'bout kid care. Honestly, it fuckin' scares me that I apperantly got like... five months to learn how, an' I doubt the internet is an accurate resource."

It terrified him, the thought of having to care for someone else, someone who was depending on him to do it.

"I can barely keep myself alive, dude, like, I live on microwaved food and instant noodles. Takeout. I can't fuckin' cook. Don't get me started on laundry, because that shit is a mystery to me. Throw shit together in there, hope for the best."

It wouldn't really work that way with a kid, he knew as much.

"Oh I need money alright. I'm fuckin' screwed with the extra costs raisin' a kid will cost. Do ya have any idea how expensive that is?"

He rambled a little, and he knew it, closed his eyes and swallowed.

"I'll do it again, shut ya up real good, if ya don't stop talkin' shit." Getting called Pumpkin, did little, if anything, to calm him down, the effect was the opposite. The punch surprised him, made him double over, left him trying to catch his breath, barely managing to jump back from the spit, eventually aiming another punch at Riff.

Riff saw the next punch coming now that Mouthpiece was properly pissed off, and he leaned away as the other swung at him. "Didn't ya say you wanted a fight? That ya wanted to punch somethin'? That's helping isn't it?" Again, he rolled his eyes, "That's why we're The Jets, baby, we were all nothin' until we found each other."

As much as Riff enjoyed winding him up, enough was enough. "Alright, alright, I'll be good. I swear." As for whether or not he thought it was all joke, he didn't mention it. He did find it hilarious that Mouthpiece had been so stupid and gotten himself into such a state. But he also enjoyed fighting and making him pissed off. If it were anyone else, they'd probably be dead for hitting Riff, but he knew what his friend was like, so it was no big deal to him.

"I'm not gettin' that blow job then, am I?" Riff smiled and clapped Mouthpiece on the back. "I'll make sure yer taken care of, don't worry."

"You better. Wouldn't kill ya to care a bit, ya know. Care a bit 'bout your guys." He spat out the last word, glared at Riff, wiped his hands on his jeans, his anger less for now, just flipping Riff off, rolled his eyes.

"Right, like I got a damn good example of what that is. Like I'm a damn good man. Real good example, ain't I? Oh yeah, I'm such a perfect guy!" He stepped closer, hands by his sides, before shoving Riff back, half heartedly. "That, ain't ever gonna happen. Ever. I might be stupid, but don't go thinkin' I'm that stupid. I got some standards, and ya ain't them."

Riff rolled his eyes when Mouthpiece pushed him, but still he kept the storm brewing, "Yer tha one sayin' yer no good for nothin', I figured I could make ya useful fer once. Ya certainly got dick suckin' lips. Maybe yer in tha wrong side of this business, I should put ya out on the corner like the workin' girls."

The landing and power in the punch had taken him surprised. He can't say he didn't have it coming though, he did. "Well, look who grew some balls all of'a sudden. I didn't think ya had it in ya." Riff's lip had hit off his teeth which had caused it to bleed, and he could taste the metallic tinge of his own blood.

"Go on, pumpkin, let it all out. So hostile and angry. Do ya feel better now?" Riff leaned in and got close to Mouthpiece's ear. "Not willing to do anything for extra money, are ya?" He grinned and took a step back like he was going to walk away, but that wasn't in Riff's nature. Instead he swung a punch that landed right in Mouthpiece's stomach. "I'll let ya off this time, but since ya don't wanna be a daddy, ya best remember that I'm yours." Riff spit a glob of his blood and spit at Mouthpiece's feet.

"I'll do it again, shut ya up real good, if ya don't stop talkin' shit." Getting called Pumpkin, did little, if anything, to calm him down, the effect was the opposite. The punch surprised him, made him double over, left him trying to catch his breath, barely managing to jump back from the spit, eventually aiming another punch at Riff.

"Like any o' us got good parents. Like any of us would be good parents. I'll be a shit parent, an' you know that. I'm gonna mess that poor kid up to be just like me." He felt like he could be sick right there, frustrated by what it was.

"The one time I forget, and this shit happens, I really just wanna drink myself into forgetting this ever happened." He still felt like breaking something, anything that would shatter, make him feel something else.

"Parents are shit, yours, mine, ev'ry Jet's got shit parents, forgot that?"

He snapped his mouth shut after that. Riff had a point.

"I don't know nothin' about parents, I ain't exactly got a lot ta go on. And maybe yer right, maybe you stayin' away from that kid is the best thing for it. I guess all yer gonna teach it is how to run away like a coward, right?" Riff wasn't exactly sure why he was so pissy about this, this was Mouthpiece's own doing, the world didn't cause this 'mistake' he did. "Not exactly settin' a good example of what it is to be man, are ya?"

Riff shook his head, "Nope, not gettin' ya in more trouble, I hardly trust you to complete a job sober, let alone wasted. I was just thinkin' that since you're so stupid and loose I could get ya to put yer mouth to good use for once. Bring me some pleasure instead of bein' a constant pain in my ass."

Was he angling for a fight? Maybe.

"Right, like I got a damn good example of what that is. Like I'm a damn good man. Real good example, ain't I? Oh yeah, I'm such a perfect guy!" He stepped closer, hands by his sides, before shoving Riff back, half heartedly. "That, ain't ever gonna happen. Ever. I might be stupid, but don't go thinkin' I'm that stupid. I got some standards, and ya ain't them."

"To be honest, I kinda wanna break somethin'. Right now, hittin' somethin' seems like a real good idea. What, ya gonna be uncles? Riff, we ain't exactly future fathers of the damn year. None of us is. Ya know I'll be six feet under by the time that kid starts school." Honestly, he was terrified of knowing the kid, and at the same time terrified of not knowing the kid. It felt easier to push all that away, ignore it, even if maybe, just maybe, he could have had it.

"You an' me both know that we ain't gonna end up in a rockin' chair on a porch somewhere. Riff Lorton, found dead in some shady alley. Mouthpiece, found stabbed on the street, dead. None o' us makin' it to thirty." His voice went high pitched, stressed out at the last word.

Riff shook his head, "I know it ain't ideal, but ya gotta be a man a deal with it. It's all fine n' good for you, but the girl ya knocked up doesn't get to just dump the kid and walk away, does she? Or maybe she will, and yer kid'll end up like me not knowin' their folks and in an orphanage. All because his parents were shit."

So much for breaking the cycle, was every one of The Jets doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again? Riff was determined he wouldn't be. But then again, he never planned on fucking up and getting someone pregnant.

"Why are ya questionin' me? Like we ain't ever got shitfaced together before? Yer a weird lil' guy, ya know that? Besides, ya don't have tha best judgement, if I get ya drunk enough, who knows what ya can be talked inta."

"Like any o' us got good parents. Like any of us would be good parents. I'll be a shit parent, an' you know that. I'm gonna mess that poor kid up to be just like me." He felt like he could be sick right there, frustrated by what it was.

"The one time I forget, and this shit happens, I really just wanna drink myself into forgetting this ever happened." He still felt like breaking something, anything that would shatter, make him feel something else.

"Parents are shit, yours, mine, ev'ry Jet's got shit parents, forgot that?"

He snapped his mouth shut after that. Riff had a point.

"Do I look like some damn dad to ya? You want me to show up to the kid's activities, be a supportive dad, some kinda dad of the year? I don't wanna be. I ain't even knowin' how to be." He was tense, breathing heavily, working himself into some sort of stress related breakdown, feeling like breaking point got closer, but didn't shrug Riff's hand off.

"Ain't Grazie, I ain't that stupid. Just don't... I can't be a damn dad, with some place an' a wife, or ex-wife, or hell, she'll be a goddamn widow an' I know I should've thought of that before, but... too fuckin' late. I ain't gonna be in this kid's life. I ain't gonna be there, just gonna pay child support, send some lame ass gift on birthdays, christmas, ya know, that kinda thing that our dads were too full o' shit to ever do. I don't wanna know it. I don't want it to know me."

He paused, took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts, and just gave a small, very subtle, nod, that was blink and miss it.

"Relax, buddy boy, yer workin' yerself up into a lather, next thing ya know you'll be goin' off half-cocked and up to some fuckshit. Now's not tha time to get yerself inta any trouble. Just breathe? Alright."

All kidding aside, if it were Riff he'd be just a terrified. One of them, a father? God forbid. But here they were.

Riff was still rather suspicious of why Mouthpiece refused to tell him who the mother was, but he supposed he'd find out in all due time. It was impossible to keep that a secret.

"That's yer choice, but always remember ya do have family, and any kid of a Jet is part of that family. We're here for ya." Probably the nicest thing Riff has ever said to him. Riff didn't think he'd be the same, he'd be scared sure, but he'd be proud of his own kid, it would give him at least some reason to this miserable existence. But Mouthpiece had a point, they were here for a good time, not a long time.

"Well, at least you've got a plan fer today. Want some company?"

"To be honest, I kinda wanna break somethin'. Right now, hittin' somethin' seems like a real good idea. What, ya gonna be uncles? Riff, we ain't exactly future fathers of the damn year. None of us is. Ya know I'll be six feet under by the time that kid starts school." Honestly, he was terrified of knowing the kid, and at the same time terrified of not knowing the kid. It felt easier to push all that away, ignore it, even if maybe, just maybe, he could have had it.

"You an' me both know that we ain't gonna end up in a rockin' chair on a porch somewhere. Riff Lorton, found dead in some shady alley. Mouthpiece, found stabbed on the street, dead. None o' us makin' it to thirty." His voice went high pitched, stressed out at the last word.

He paused, thinking back, quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful, concentrated, doing the math in his head. "She said sixteen weeks along, not weeks away. What the point of using weeks is, hell if I know. It.. does add up. Don't suppose ya could arrange for a one way ticket to... I dunno, far away from here? Yeah, obviously I ain't sure, it's a little hard to tell from the picture, but she claims that's how things is, an' I ain't got no reason to doubt it."

He stared at the desk, avoiding to answer that question as to who this was, which likely would make nothing better and just make the whole situation worse.

"Does that matter? It ain't makin' much difference is it?

He stood up, lingered in the doorway, took a deep drag of the cigarette, let smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, slowly, and almost calmly.

"Why do ya care? Gonna send her a congratulations card? It ain't like it matters. Done's done, an' shit happens. Might be someone ya know, might not, I ain't tellin'."

"Cigars is what ya usually give ta someone celebratin' havin' a kiddo. Or maybe that's after tha kid is born, I dunno." As to whether or not this could happen to Riff, he could only shrug, "Can't aruge wit that, hotshot, I guess ya was just unlucky."

That wasn't that far along as far as Riff knew, 16 weeks along was pretty far from 9 months due. "Now, now, future papa, ya can't run off n' skirt yer responsibility like our good fer nothin' daddies did. Ya gotta be a man, right?" Was Mouthpiece even capable of that? There were times he was more hotheaded and dumb than Riff was.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Riff got up from his seat and followed Mouthpiece after such a hasty exit. "All that yappin' got me thinkin' ya don't want me ta know who it is? It's not like yer gonna tell me it's Grazie, because God knows ya know better than that, right? You'd be a fuckin' dead man walkin'." He clapped a hand on Mouthpiece's shoulder, "C'mon, you can tell ya ol' buddy Riff, is it one of The Shark's gals?"

"Do I look like some damn dad to ya? You want me to show up to the kid's activities, be a supportive dad, some kinda dad of the year? I don't wanna be. I ain't even knowin' how to be." He was tense, breathing heavily, working himself into some sort of stress related breakdown, feeling like breaking point got closer, but didn't shrug Riff's hand off.

"Ain't Grazie, I ain't that stupid. Just don't... I can't be a damn dad, with some place an' a wife, or ex-wife, or hell, she'll be a goddamn widow an' I know I should've thought of that before, but... too fuckin' late. I ain't gonna be in this kid's life. I ain't gonna be there, just gonna pay child support, send some lame ass gift on birthdays, christmas, ya know, that kinda thing that our dads were too full o' shit to ever do. I don't wanna know it. I don't want it to know me."

He paused, took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts, and just gave a small, very subtle, nod, that was blink and miss it.

"We're kinda past that stage, long past. It's stayin'. Expected ta arrive within... I think she said a few weeks? Months? I don't know, I think weeks, but I kinda didn't process nothin' past the 'It's your kid' part, 'cause that ain't nothin' I wanna hear at midnight, but yeah there's apperantly gonna be a little kid in my future."

"I will rub it in, actually, ya horny idiot. Lettin' ya prick get ahead of yer brain again." Riff shook his head, teasing Mouthpiece as if he were a disappointed father. Then he took out his smokes from the front pocket of his coveralls. "Here, have a smoke, I don't have any cigars fer ya."

"Weeks?" Riff raised his brows as he sparked up their smokes. "She didn't waste'a minute tellin' ya then. Who is this broad anyway?" Riff hoped to God it wasn't someone he'd also slept with along the way. "Why's she wait so long, and are you sure it's yours? How can ya be?"

He shrugged, "Anyway, if ya want some extra cash real fast you can do me some personal favours, startin' with washin' my ride."

He paused, thinking back, quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful, concentrated, doing the math in his head. "She said sixteen weeks along, not weeks away. What the point of using weeks is, hell if I know. It.. does add up. Don't suppose ya could arrange for a one way ticket to... I dunno, far away from here? Yeah, obviously I ain't sure, it's a little hard to tell from the picture, but she claims that's how things is, an' I ain't got no reason to doubt it."

He stared at the desk, avoiding to answer that question as to who this was, which likely would make nothing better and just make the whole situation worse.

"Does that matter? It ain't makin' much difference is it?

He stood up, lingered in the doorway, took a deep drag of the cigarette, let smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, slowly, and almost calmly.

"Why do ya care? Gonna send her a congratulations card? It ain't like it matters. Done's done, an' shit happens. Might be someone ya know, might not, I ain't tellin'."

Angélique Leclair existed in the liminal. Her ability to move between worlds could be concerning to the some. Though Doc's Drugstore allowed to simply be, without fear for a brief moment in time. Acutely aware of how she was perceived for being Asian first and then human. That was if people even did recognize her humanity. The world was unkind to her, though she desperately wanted to remain soft in spite of it all. Perhaps, it was naive of her. However, she would always try to treat others how she would like to be treated.

That tender ideal of hers led to this moment. “You'll have to sit still if you want this to hurt less, darling.” Her voice was soft but stern, the nickname tumbled easily from her lips. Nimble fingers went through the first aid kit, pulling out supplies as her brow was furrowed deep in concentration.

"Can do it myself. Don't need your help." He pulled away, stood up as she was digging through the first aid kit. This wasn't exactly new, rumbles happened, people got hurt, that was really how the life was, it was something Mouthpiece knew all too well.

It wasn't even the worst injury he'd ever had, it'd scab over, heal up, leave yet another scar, not that he cared, not at all.

"Heard it, but ya know... ya forget. Glad ya find my failures funny. Ya gonna help or not?" He sat fidgetting with his cap, let out a sigh.

"Of course I find it funny, of all people ta become a papa I didn't expect you ta be first. Even wit all my mistakes I never managed that big of a fuck up." Riff didn't see any of The Jets as father material, if he was being completely honest. They were a street gang, criminals, hell, they were drug traffickers.

"She wants the to keep tha baby? Or is the money for the ol' coat hanger operation?" Very crude, but it was a valid question. "I guess if ya need tha raise it means there's a lil' Mouthpiece in tha future, yeah?"

Riff thought about it and tilted his head. "Yeah, I can do that, you've been good lately. But a raise means ya might find yerrself in more serious business with me, are you prepared fer that?"

"We're kinda past that stage, long past. It's stayin'. Expected ta arrive within... I think she said a few weeks? Months? I don't know, I think weeks, but I kinda didn't process nothin' past the 'It's your kid' part, 'cause that ain't nothin' I wanna hear at midnight, but yeah there's apperantly gonna be a little kid in my future."

"It ain't our usual kinda trouble, and I can explain, but.." He shifted a little in his seat, uncomfortable with the situation, and the mess that this absolutely was.

"I need the money 'cause, and this is tha honest damn truth, far as I know. Ya know sometimes, ya ain't quite as careful as ya oughta be, an' the consequences happen? The consequences did, if ya get what I mean by that." He fixed his eyes on the desk in front of him.

Riff wasn't much of a laugher, he rarely had a real sense of humour, and when he did it was limited to a smirk, and sometimes rather beautiful smile, but this? This got him laughing, hard.

"Yer fucking kiddin' me?!" He smacked the desk. "Ever heard the expression don't be silly, wrap ya willy?" He could hardly believe what he was hearing, Mouthpiece still had a babyface himself, now he was having a baby?

"Is this congrats on a kid that's already walkin' among us, or is she just knocked up?"

"Heard it, but ya know... ya forget. Glad ya find my failures funny. Ya gonna help or not?" He sat fidgetting with his cap, let out a sigh.

"I need tha money. Ya know I wouldn't ask if I ain't needed it." He stated, looking Riff in the eye, trying to act calmer than he felt.

"It ain't gonna be more than a few days! Two, if that. Ya can manage that. I'm gonna sort this out an' be right back."

"Ya didn't ask." Riff reminded, "Ya barged in here like ya owned tha place n' demanded that me, yer boss, give ya time off and a raise." Riff leaned back in his office chair, his mind escaped from whatever he was doing previous to the interruption. "That's not even how normal business works, let alone this one, ya jackass."

He made a motion with his hand for Mouthpiece to take a seat across from him. "What's got ya panties all in bunch all of a sudden? Whattya need the time and money for? And don't fuckin' lie ta me."

"It ain't our usual kinda trouble, and I can explain, but.." He shifted a little in his seat, uncomfortable with the situation, and the mess that this absolutely was.

"I need the money 'cause, and this is tha honest damn truth, far as I know. Ya know sometimes, ya ain't quite as careful as ya oughta be, an' the consequences happen? The consequences did, if ya get what I mean by that." He fixed his eyes on the desk in front of him.

"I'm gonna get straight to the point. One, I need a raise, and two, I need a few days off, right now."

( @setwithacapitalj)

Riff gave his friend and employee an incredulous look. "And who tha fuck do ya think you are?" He furrowed his brow, annoyed. "Waltzin' in here and makin' demands, ya gotta death wish? I'll raise my foot in yer ass." // @setwithacapitalj

"I need tha money. Ya know I wouldn't ask if I ain't needed it." He stated, looking Riff in the eye, trying to act calmer than he felt.

"It ain't gonna be more than a few days! Two, if that. Ya can manage that. I'm gonna sort this out an' be right back."

"Time, place, and how long are we stayin'? You bringin' me for muscle or to talk?" There was a difference there, and Mouthpiece knew as much, and it also made a difference in how he'd act towards any situation that might happen.

"Fer muscle. No offence but I wouldn't exactly just ya to negotiate with any cartel members." Even Riff taking this on was dangerous, he didn't want anyone else to be blamed if shit went south.

"We leave Friday night, midnight, from a privately owned hanger." As to whether the trip was purely business or not, Riff smirked. "Do I look like a man that would go south of tha boarder and not take advantage of all the fun? I love the senoritas as much as the next fella."

"Got ya. Friday, midnight." The look on Riff's face told him everything he needed to know, in terms of it not being strictly business.

"Uh-huh. The senoritas. Ya fancy a mexican senorita, huh?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice, and some surprise he failed to keep away.

"The senoritas I bet are real nice. Wouldn't mind goin' to see some. When business is done." The business aspect was clearly supposed to be priority, and Mouthpiece understood as much, loud and clear, although the aspect of fun was also a bit more tempting.

"Ya still gonna keep me under control there, or we gonna have fun?" He asked, calmly, awaiting the answer.