[ A worthless piece of shit?? Harshest yet, but it sounds like a joke, or like he expects Jesse not to take it seriously. Or too personally. This conversation has been this way from the start. ]
I dunno if "honourable" is the right word for that. [ There's an unspoken "wow dude" in his simple observation. It's a little amused. ] My story... that's a conversation that's gotta happen face-to-face, y'know, in person, if at all.
[ Which is a suspicious admission on its own. Haven has taken the edge off his paranoia-- does it even fucking matter anymore, what he used to do? Hardly. It's probably stupid to try and keep the details off the network, but you know, old habits die hard. ]
What did you do before you, totally voluntarily, joined our ranks?
There are likely people listening into this already, y'know.
[matter-of-factly; hiruma firmly believes it, he's encountered it in holly heights. he knows that out of the bulk of people here, he ain't the only one keeping tabs.
he's been up and walking around for a while now, staying away from the apartments a little longer wouldn't be so bad. really, distractions are worth their weight in gold.]
[ He understands their conversations are being monitored by somebody. It's the biggest reason he's reluctant to say more. Hiruma offers a meet as a solution, which leaves Jesse feeling like he's done something right in order to interest him in taking that extra step. Not sure what that something is, exactly, but that's not the point. ]
Alright. [ He agrees, curious. It's a sharing date. ] Sure. Why not?
[ And just because he agrees now doesn't mean he has to give the whole story later, or even the truth. He'll decide when he gets there. Jesse moves on, figuratively and literally-- he's already getting up and heading for his front door. ]
You know the number of the block they dropped your ass in?
hiruma looks up from the phone, clipping the sling onto his gun. he isn't about to leave it inside, but when jesse rolls up to the block, he isn't about to scare the guy off by having it in-hand. up from the creaking couch, shoving the coffee table away from him with a shove of his foot, he'll stalk to the door and slam it shut behind him.
any chance to see a visitor before they see him is a great deal, so hiruma sits on the step, wiggles to get comfortable, stretches out, and crosses his ankles.
there's a lot to think about, given the alone time to.]
[ Good idea to hide the piece, Hiruma. While he takes the stroll from One to Fifteen, phone tucked away in his pocket, he tries to picture the person he's looking for. Someone tough and confident, someone who sounds like he might be around the same age.
Some scrawny punk with big ears. Jesse slows to a stop without passing the housing block, but he looks around twice for anyone else who might be lingering outside. Oblivious to his own scrawny punk appearance, apparently.
After a moment, he focuses squarely on Hiruma and raises an eyebrow. For once, he checks himself for 'tude before speaking; appearances can be deceiving in Haven, no? His tone is only vaguely rude. ]
[not so much hidden as it is strapped back, jesse can make out that it exists more as a blanket threat to the world, not a promise for him specifically. the former arms-dealer watches the guy approach, and nearly snorts—no, no underestimation, just some plain ol' fashioned sizing-up.]
I sure as hell ain't the old guy.
[pinkman's five foot fuck all, by the looks of him. six, seven inches maybe. weight, well. he can't tell with those clothes, thankfully he's used to "gangsters" after his run-ins with one too many shitheads from kantou who like to strut their colours around like a gaggle of fools. hiruma perches high on the step with the sharpest smirk this side of atlantis; sharks are supposed to belong in the water, but apparently one crawled on land too soon.
the eyebrow jesse cocks at him, coupled with that nuanced backsass... this'll be fun (what a fucking relief).]
Neither are you, by the looks of it, eh? How old are ya, short stack, seventeen?
[ Short stack? Seventeen? Jesse rolls his jaw and looks away, scoffing. That was gonna be his guess for Hiruma's age, but his casually armed appearance kinda knocks him up a few years on principal. But-- from that phone conversation, he was expecting someone a little older than this. ]
Nice try. You're only off by, like, close to ten years.
[ Backsass is in full force now. He takes a few steps in, undeterred by cute insults, vicious smirks and pistols. Or maybe he's just trying to seem like he couldn't care less. Either way, he continues to engage this banter. Something about it must draw him in. ]
And you? Don't tell me you're over twenty. What're ya doin' playing with guns?
[hiruma waves airily, figuring it doesn't matter too much. age is age is age; like everything else, he doesn't judge a book by its cover. especially not the people here, and this guy is no exception to the rule—he watches that odd physical tick of pinkman's, before his eyes raise.]
Jealous? I'm spoiled rotten, really. You can't get anything like this in Japan, unlike in the "Land of the Free" where they come like flyers in the mail. That's where you're from, right?
[matching jesse's steps forward, his toes hit the second step, hand offered in a sportsmanlike gesture.]
[ Twenty-five, but that's close enough. As long as he isn't being mistaken for a teenager. He meets Hiruma by the steps and stops in front of him, watching curiously. He's got some mouth on him, it bears repeating. And Jesse is the last person who can criticize in that area.
Something about Hiruma's approach is still refreshing. Another Japanese guy-- he's starting to think Yao has a fetish. The corner of his mouth turns up when Hiruma offers his hand, as he reaches out to shake. ]
Uh huh. Albuquerque, New Mexico. [ One of the parts where the flyers-in-the-mail commentary applies in a special way. ] No easy access in Japan, huh? You live somewhere else before this? Or maybe you come to your stash by other means.
[ Illegal ones, if Japan is as strict as Hiruma says. Like hell he knows. ]
Yo, you are lucky. You're really gonna need it here.
[because personal boundaries don't exist for anyone but himself, jesse's hand is caught, clasped firmly, shook once, and pulled up—a long finger hooks the wrist of his sleeve, tugging it back and away from the tattoo he sighted. with a shit-eating grin and the low tone of a no-good conspirator, he answers him.]
I smuggle 'em.
[tapping the scorpion, with great interest, hiruma seems content to be able to learn about the guy before sharing the stories they came here to tell. what's a meet-and-greet without a little pop quiz?]
[ Okay, ain't prepared for that. He takes another step in, the tug forcing him to stumble forward a bit, and stares at Hiruma. Is he--? He is, he's asking about Jesse's tattoo. In maybe the most intrusive way possible, but he does seem genuinely curious. Jesse blinks. ]
Man-- grabby much? Uh, it's a Celtic Scorpion.
[ When's the last time he explained it? Hiruma's the first person in Haven to ask him about any of his tats, and during their first meeting on top of that. The realization gets Jesse to take the question seriously, clearing his throat once before he continues. In a deeper voice. ]
It means, you know, scorpions mean power, aggression, destruction. Isolation. All that shit. And it's a pretty sweet design, huh?
[ He thought it looked and sounded cool, is the long and short of it. ]
Why, if you're someone who likes investing in permanent mistakes, certainly.
[it's memorized, just like everything else is, filed away under important descriptors and whatever other nonsense he's skimmed from being around jesse one damn minute. he's probably got more, tattoos—they've always been odd to hiruma. get one, and it becomes an addiction, right?
power, aggression, destruction, isolation. "all that shit" indeed. hiruma watches him, eyebrows raised, before losing his grip enough for pinkman to steal his hand back.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I dunno if "honourable" is the right word for that. [ There's an unspoken "wow dude" in his simple observation. It's a little amused. ] My story... that's a conversation that's gotta happen face-to-face, y'know, in person, if at all.
[ Which is a suspicious admission on its own. Haven has taken the edge off his paranoia-- does it even fucking matter anymore, what he used to do? Hardly. It's probably stupid to try and keep the details off the network, but you know, old habits die hard. ]
What did you do before you, totally voluntarily, joined our ranks?
no subject
[matter-of-factly; hiruma firmly believes it, he's encountered it in holly heights. he knows that out of the bulk of people here, he ain't the only one keeping tabs.
he's been up and walking around for a while now, staying away from the apartments a little longer wouldn't be so bad. really, distractions are worth their weight in gold.]
So, meet me. We can share.
no subject
Alright. [ He agrees, curious. It's a sharing date. ] Sure. Why not?
[ And just because he agrees now doesn't mean he has to give the whole story later, or even the truth. He'll decide when he gets there. Jesse moves on, figuratively and literally-- he's already getting up and heading for his front door. ]
You know the number of the block they dropped your ass in?
actiones
[and the line goes dead.
hiruma looks up from the phone, clipping the sling onto his gun. he isn't about to leave it inside, but when jesse rolls up to the block, he isn't about to scare the guy off by having it in-hand. up from the creaking couch, shoving the coffee table away from him with a shove of his foot, he'll stalk to the door and slam it shut behind him.
any chance to see a visitor before they see him is a great deal, so hiruma sits on the step, wiggles to get comfortable, stretches out, and crosses his ankles.
there's a lot to think about, given the alone time to.]
que pasa que pasa
Some scrawny punk with big ears. Jesse slows to a stop without passing the housing block, but he looks around twice for anyone else who might be lingering outside. Oblivious to his own scrawny punk appearance, apparently.
After a moment, he focuses squarely on Hiruma and raises an eyebrow. For once, he checks himself for 'tude before speaking; appearances can be deceiving in Haven, no? His tone is only vaguely rude. ]
You the new guy?
buenas chichis, chica, llamame
I sure as hell ain't the old guy.
[pinkman's five foot fuck all, by the looks of him. six, seven inches maybe. weight, well. he can't tell with those clothes, thankfully he's used to "gangsters" after his run-ins with one too many shitheads from kantou who like to strut their colours around like a gaggle of fools. hiruma perches high on the step with the sharpest smirk this side of atlantis; sharks are supposed to belong in the water, but apparently one crawled on land too soon.
the eyebrow jesse cocks at him, coupled with that nuanced backsass... this'll be fun (what a fucking relief).]
Neither are you, by the looks of it, eh? How old are ya, short stack, seventeen?
todos el wink wonk
Nice try. You're only off by, like, close to ten years.
[ Backsass is in full force now. He takes a few steps in, undeterred by cute insults, vicious smirks and pistols. Or maybe he's just trying to seem like he couldn't care less. Either way, he continues to engage this banter. Something about it must draw him in. ]
And you? Don't tell me you're over twenty. What're ya doin' playing with guns?
estoy desmayo (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) smek
[hiruma waves airily, figuring it doesn't matter too much. age is age is age; like everything else, he doesn't judge a book by its cover. especially not the people here, and this guy is no exception to the rule—he watches that odd physical tick of pinkman's, before his eyes raise.]
Jealous? I'm spoiled rotten, really. You can't get anything like this in Japan, unlike in the "Land of the Free" where they come like flyers in the mail. That's where you're from, right?
[matching jesse's steps forward, his toes hit the second step, hand offered in a sportsmanlike gesture.]
What part?
holy shit what an adorable emoticon ///
Something about Hiruma's approach is still refreshing. Another Japanese guy-- he's starting to think Yao has a fetish. The corner of his mouth turns up when Hiruma offers his hand, as he reaches out to shake. ]
Uh huh. Albuquerque, New Mexico. [ One of the parts where the flyers-in-the-mail commentary applies in a special way. ] No easy access in Japan, huh? You live somewhere else before this? Or maybe you come to your stash by other means.
[ Illegal ones, if Japan is as strict as Hiruma says. Like hell he knows. ]
Yo, you are lucky. You're really gonna need it here.
ur an adorable emoticon
I smuggle 'em.
[tapping the scorpion, with great interest, hiruma seems content to be able to learn about the guy before sharing the stories they came here to tell. what's a meet-and-greet without a little pop quiz?]
What's this mean?
no subject
Man-- grabby much? Uh, it's a Celtic Scorpion.
[ When's the last time he explained it? Hiruma's the first person in Haven to ask him about any of his tats, and during their first meeting on top of that. The realization gets Jesse to take the question seriously, clearing his throat once before he continues. In a deeper voice. ]
It means, you know, scorpions mean power, aggression, destruction. Isolation. All that shit. And it's a pretty sweet design, huh?
[ He thought it looked and sounded cool, is the long and short of it. ]
no subject
Why, if you're someone who likes investing in permanent mistakes, certainly.
[it's memorized, just like everything else is, filed away under important descriptors and whatever other nonsense he's skimmed from being around jesse one damn minute. he's probably got more, tattoos—they've always been odd to hiruma. get one, and it becomes an addiction, right?
power, aggression, destruction, isolation. "all that shit" indeed. hiruma watches him, eyebrows raised, before losing his grip enough for pinkman to steal his hand back.]
Little things pack a big punch, as they say.