Post by Cale Rosiér on Dec 4, 2007 23:32:40 GMT 1
Cale's only real occupation was thievery. He spent money on cigarettes, movies, and occasionally booze, but he had no income whatsoever beyond what he could steal and sell. This time, he had managed to snipe a security-style flashlight/baton from a bathroom while a member of the staff was on the can as well as a little CD player a kid had going while he was in the lockerroom shower. Thus, complete with his backpack of swag, Hircine Wrestling Team winter cap, and a marlboro red between his lips, he was the poster boy for adolescent immaturity at this particular moment in time as he rode his rusted red bicycle down the streets of San Fran.
Approaching the shady fortress with bars on the windows, he threw his cigarette on the ground and made a brief glance right and left for police officers out of irrational paranoia before chaining up his bike and walking in the door.
"What do you have for me, stranger?" asked the clerk.
The man's tag said "Rudy", but on numerous occasions, Cale had heard acquaintances of this man call him Roosevelt when they came into his petit, questionable market to chat with him. Lightheartedly, Cale would pretend to be in on the joke and refer to him in a similar way.
"Roosevelt Jenkins, what can I get for these?" delivered Rosiér in a very deadpan and business-like way that contained only traces of humor. Roosevelt Jenkins was one of his favorite bands, but no one knew about them. This was Cale's sense of humor: Funny to others at times, but mainly himself.
"Mm, I don't know. The radio is an old model and no one is really going to want it for anything above 10 bucks. I'll give you 5 for it, and that's being generous. The flashlight is interesting, hahaha, but I don't know that I'll be able to put it in the front window without rasing a little suspicion. At least with a gun, you can plead someone turned it in, but this clearly reeks of theft. I don't know...I'll probably just sell it to a buddy of mine though. Keep it in back. I'll throw you 10 bucks for that guy."
"You know me..." said Cale. "...I didn't pay anything for these, so it all sounds good."
"And you know me..." replied Rudy. "...I wouldn't let that keep me from giving you a fair price for something I want."
"Good man." smiled Cale.
Setting his mind towards picking up a pack of cancer sticks, he wondered if anyone else was running the same racket he was. He took a quick glance around the store to see if anyone looked familiar or if there was anyone who would know either him or perhaps at least the Hircine insignia on his hat.
Approaching the shady fortress with bars on the windows, he threw his cigarette on the ground and made a brief glance right and left for police officers out of irrational paranoia before chaining up his bike and walking in the door.
"What do you have for me, stranger?" asked the clerk.
The man's tag said "Rudy", but on numerous occasions, Cale had heard acquaintances of this man call him Roosevelt when they came into his petit, questionable market to chat with him. Lightheartedly, Cale would pretend to be in on the joke and refer to him in a similar way.
"Roosevelt Jenkins, what can I get for these?" delivered Rosiér in a very deadpan and business-like way that contained only traces of humor. Roosevelt Jenkins was one of his favorite bands, but no one knew about them. This was Cale's sense of humor: Funny to others at times, but mainly himself.
"Mm, I don't know. The radio is an old model and no one is really going to want it for anything above 10 bucks. I'll give you 5 for it, and that's being generous. The flashlight is interesting, hahaha, but I don't know that I'll be able to put it in the front window without rasing a little suspicion. At least with a gun, you can plead someone turned it in, but this clearly reeks of theft. I don't know...I'll probably just sell it to a buddy of mine though. Keep it in back. I'll throw you 10 bucks for that guy."
"You know me..." said Cale. "...I didn't pay anything for these, so it all sounds good."
"And you know me..." replied Rudy. "...I wouldn't let that keep me from giving you a fair price for something I want."
"Good man." smiled Cale.
Setting his mind towards picking up a pack of cancer sticks, he wondered if anyone else was running the same racket he was. He took a quick glance around the store to see if anyone looked familiar or if there was anyone who would know either him or perhaps at least the Hircine insignia on his hat.