#playbacked

LENNY: you should know me by now. ( @playbacked )

SANTA CARLA WAS NOT WHERE STAR HAD BEEN BORN, BUT EVER SINCE SHE HAD MET DAVID IT HAD BECOME HER HOME. places to rest your head were a dime-a-dozen ── places where you could do that without having to worry about who else would crawl into your room at night were special, at least to her. and hell, if you could look past all the drugs and deaths, it was practically paradise.

right now, she got to enjoy that. the sun didn't hurt as bad when it was going down, and the boardwalk had always been a great comfort to her. there was nowhere to escape to in small towns, but in a place like this, you could be alone with three-hundred people. no one cared about you.

no one, that is, except maybe lenny nero. at least, the lenny she remembered would have.

          " I KNOW YOU WERE THE KIND OF COP WHO WASN'T GOING TO BUST A KID FOR GETTING BY, " seven years ago, star hadn't exactly said thank you for that. she had been too scared to stick around, and if she were being completely honest, kind of pissed that he'd stopped her from making some money.

she had also cried that night, thinking about everything that had already happened before he showed up, and she definitely wasn't going to tell him that. " now i hear you're not even a cop at all. "

          ...

star paused. she really didn't mean to sound so harsh. " are ... you okay, lenny? "

❝ Lenny. I fucking hate you. ❞

Nicklescraper, dreamseller, LAPD former, Leonard " Lenny " Nero. There's no reason at all why these two should ever be mingling, right?, let alone in such a mildewed place. Not the black markets, this time -- not their usual nightcrawling. His apartment. His hole-punched apartment furnished with nothing but popsickle shavings, evidence of some strange addictions, and, perhaps, one or two poltergeists.

Her bodyguard waits outside.

❝ What could be the matter with you this time, huh? ❞ As if she doesn't know. His blood's on her fingers, and she doesn't know? He stands before her while she sits atop the kitchen counter, a cotton ball, drenched in a potion of clarifixing alcohol and some dubious material of her own invention, pinched between her princess thumb and forefinger. She's daubing it all along his temple. Right. He's bleeding off the side of his head. Some deal gone wrong, maybe? Or maybe his brain's finally revolting against itself, having been zapped by one too many Playbacks. Whatever the reason, the tenderness with which she administers the antiseptic suggests that she may not, in fact, totally, entirely, fucking hate him.

@playbacked ⛧ starter

Beside him she leans back against the wall in the back alley. "Been awhile. Lenny." A nonchalant, informal greeting. V glances up at him as she digs cigarette case from her pocket. "You're not looking too good. I hear you've got some serious competition ramping up."

IN SOME SENSE, HE'S RIGHT, SCREAM SHEETS AND GOSSIP COLUMNS were hardly reliable sources of information. Yet in this case, it was hard to deny the facts when they were staring them plainly in the face. Faith was with Philo, and that was that. Whether it was a contractual obligation, some media stunt they were pulling, or a genuine connection (she doubted that), there was little to repute the fact that Philo and Faith were an item; and Lenny was all but ancient history to the joytoy turned pop singer. Knowing Faith, with her new life, new partner, and overall success, she had little time for ex-boyfriends and ex-friends alike. Regardless of whether said former friend had been brutally murdered.

"You're right. Poor little Faith is just an innocent victim in everything. She really doesn't want anything to do with Mr. Rich and powerful Philo, and she is just awaiting the opportunity to fall right back into your arms." The words came out harsher than she intended, but maybe he needed a little harsh does of reality to get him out of whatever hold Faith had on him still.

once they are out of sight of the busy street the henchman gives the other one last push as he lets go of him. he corners lenny in the dead end of the neon - lit alleyway, squaring his shoulders to ready himself for his task. but some hesitation remains in his eyes even as he narrows them at the dealer wordlessly.