~~Rubbing the bridge of his nose with two slim fingers, the young man in the trenchcoat leans against a brick wall with a boneless ease that hints at practice. Head down, he appears quite solitary, and though short, perhaps not someone you'd care to annoy at this particular moment. After awhile, his head raises, emerald hair falling back off his face to reveal slim features distinctly feminine, were they not blended with a rather masculine frame. His lips part, revealing teeth one would think more at home in a predatory animal than a young man, beneath eyes glowing faint amber in the streetlight. Stride short, though as far as his legs will carry him, he exits the alleyway and takes a glance around. Seeing nothing much of interest to him, he continues his saunter down the street, nibbling his lip as he thinks.~~ Bl'd'y 'ell...s'n't ev'n 'ere y't. ~~Glaring now, he tugs the belt of his coat shut, heavy boots making little or no sound on the snowy sidewalk.~~

~~Shifting around on the curb, he finally gives up...it had been how many hours, and his contact still wasn't here. Passing it off as a wash, Neetlemyre frowns and sets off again, preferring to trudge home through the slushy snow, taking the time to think. Yellow eyes dart to and fro, tracking shadows and what lingers beyond them, smiling slightly as he feels a surge of warm sleepy thoughts that aren't his own. Shushing his lover with a few thoughts of his own impending return, he quietly slips out of the contact. He'd learned how to do that, sneaking lessons with Thomas every once in awhile, and slowly rebuilding his own identity as he discovered what it meant to be himself. He certainly couldn't sever his contact with Beej altogether, and he didn't want to either, but they'd learned enough distance of thought not to trip over the other. Of course, he still wasn't entirely comfortable being away from the trader for long, but that was part of what these little trips were about....to prove to himself that he could, and eventually, to establish his own portion of their finances. He loved Beej with everything he was, but that didn't mean he could shake the feeling of not contributing much to the family business.~~

~~He was rather irked, in fact, that his contact hadn't shown tonight. He didn't ask, for the most part, merely took the papers and moved them to whatever name he'd been given. He was still surprised that he'd been trusted, having eventually puzzled out just how influential a man Thomas could be, if it were really known what he did. Perhaps that was -why- he was still given his jobs though...he knew that, and he hadn't spoken a word of it aloud. Lately, he'd even taken to a bit of paper-moving all his own....after all, he should blend into the economy here, since they'd nearly decided on a house, and industrial espionage was all the rage. Of course, blackmail was a pretty penny in Hightower as well....and while none of it was precisely legal, well, neither was he, with his forged ID papers. His parents hadn't bothered him here, yet, but he saw no reason to tempt fate. And so, for now, he was Nelson Klauss, a close enough match for government work. His real name, oft-repeated in quiet joy, was Jones, now. Neetlemyre Knickerbocker-Jones...and somehow, it still rolled out of his mouth like poetry. Badly-accented poetry, to be sure....but even that was fading with time, changing as he adapted to a life not spent looking over his shoulder, clipping his words in the fear that he might not get everything out. There was also the single-minded desire to rid himself of his father's influence....and that meant the accent, even if he doubted he'd ever grow another inch taller.~~

#Clear and cold... Not necessarily the way he liked it, but then again, he really had no choice. True, he could be taking a cab rather than walking, but he was feeling stingy. And not a little soggy and greasy from ten hours in the squalid little kitchen of that bar... Oh well. Money was money and the less questions asked of his background the better. The cold air carried the usual city scents; diesel and smoke and other carcinogens; the snow squeaked under his feet as he trudged along. 'Dazzo's head is covered by a slightly frayed knit cap, pulled down over his ears and only marginally keeping him warm. His jacket is secondhand, at least, an ugly quilted wool thing that hangs as if it were made to go on the sheep it was made from. The sodium vapor lights above the sidewalk turn it even worse shades of brown than it was in daylight. It's open over two or three shirts, though the layers aren't easy to discern. His pants look like any other pair of beat-up cargo pants in the world, although the addition of salsa to the left shin makes them somewhat more unique.#

~~There was another figure on the prowl down the block, heading towards him at a steady clip, and he finds himself both wary and curious. It was late enough that this other person had to be up to something....there weren't any leisurely strolls through the Glades on a whim, not after dark. And the walk....the light, quick steps....was that Beej? The build was the same... Frowning now, he tugs his jacket tighter and slips the hood of his sweatshirt up over his face, slipping off to the shadows cast by seedy buildings next to him. Licking his lower lip, he uncoils from the back of his mind, reaching towards Beej...~~

#'Dazzo has noticed Neetlemyre, or rather, he -really- notices the fact that the other guy (had to be a guy, what woman would be out, now? Well, -besides- loose ones.) has moved out of his direct line of sight. Even 'Dazzo, while not the type to consort with footpads and cutpurses, knows that this is Not a Good Thing. Straightening even more, despite the fact that chill air is now wrapping itself more thoroughly around his neck, he slows his steps as he approaches the spot some yards before the buildings and their shadows. The streetlight sort-of confirms the man's heritage -- Those were certainly the same shoulders, under that awful coat, and he was approximately as tall as the trader. The bones of his face were quite similar as well, although the set of it lacked the warmth that would have been there if it -were- Blackwater. 'Dazzo pauses just beyond the light's circle, fiddling with his watch or maybe a fader, all the while trying to see into the darkness... Neets, who is most likely very aware of his surroundings, would probably notice the little breeze that suddenly sweeps through his hiding spot... Funny, it wasn't -usually- windy, around here, and it had been still most of the evening...#

*Neets' query prods Beej out of almost-sleep with a jerk, though his only reply, for the moment anyhow, is fuzzy (and somewhat whiny) deprivation laced with the reassurance that he was right where Neets had left him.*

~~Neets' head jerks up, hand falling to his side as he tries not to take hasty actions. Not so long ago at a little bazaar on a dust-speck world, he'd found a seller of magical oddities....and now he had a pocket where none could see, and a knife held in that pocket for times of stress. The information he garners from Beej's sleepy reply makes his frown deepen, needle-teeth making sharp indentations on his lips as he skirts around a trash can and back into the dark. He didn't like that puff of wind...and he didn't trust that he was really safe, not with his parents still alive.~~

*The unhappiness that drifts back to him conspires to prod him into a more alert state of mind. He waits, though, wondering if this was nothing more than maybe a cat, knocking something over, or perhaps someone pan-handling rather obnoxiously...*

#'Dazzo gives up on all pretenses, folding his arms and taking two steps forward, further out of the light, and perhaps closer to peril... But, like Neets, he'd been to some hole-in-the-wall and found a bit of magic all his own. Another breeze, a bit stiffer this time, wends its way down the alley, seeming to linger around Neetlemyre just a bit too long for a normal wind... And then it is gone, as if it had been imagined. Hm. The man shifts his weight on to one foot, yet another familiar mannerism... And when he speaks, his voice is -almost- the same... Almost. The accent that barely graces Blackwater's words is thicker, much like...Nomi's?# "Who's there, and are you going to let me pass quietly?"

~~Biting his lip bloody, a habit of his that still made Beej fuss over him unmercifully, Neets half crouches, ready to use his slight build and agility to his advantage. Too familiar to be an unknown quantity, the voice haunts him, and he hesitates a long while before answering.~~ Mor'n l'k'ly...y'g'nna b'th'r me?

#The waiting makes him anxious, and he shifts his weight back the other way, uncrossing his arms. Instead of moving his hands toward a weapon, or allowing them to fall to his sides, they're held palms up, almost in supplication. A few flakes of frost or snow swirl around his feet, proving that the breeze had gone back past the man... But...wasn't that the direction it had -come- from? Maybe... Then again, the wind -could- have shifted, as unlikely as it seems, even though another tiny zephyr slinks past the green-haired man hiding in the darkness...# "Hm. I don't know... I..." #His hands lower, then, face darkening (hard to tell) as the snow around his feet is disturbed again. When he next speaks, his voice is quite curious.# "Actually, I have a single question for you, and then I shall probably be on my way... Do you, by any chance, know a man that wears a yellow hat...?"

~~He did NOT like that damn breeze, and it unsettled him enough that rather than calm Beej, he simply pushed the trader to the back of his mind. Stubbornly, he kicks up the snow around his feet, tossing it into the last trickle of breeze that snakes past him with something like a vicious glare.~~ Ye'h...n'a g'y 'o we'rs a'sk'rt too. W'o t'ell'r you?

*-That- got more of a response... Of course, it was the equivalent of a cranky 'Huh?', though it's directed at the situation rather than Neets. Blackwater himself is sitting up, rubbing at his face and trying to get the clock to unblur.*

#One last little movement of air, just the faintest bit moist, caressing the younger man's face before leaving him be for good. 'Dazzo tips his head to one side and shrugs, tucking his hands back into his pockets.# A skirt? Strange. Well...To each their own, I suppose, even if it's sick. Who am I... I'll tell you, I think, if you tell me where I can find Blackwater. #It doesn't -sound- like a threat... In fact, the entire thing sounds casual, as if he were a loyal customer or a past friend... Then again, it's also not said with the greatest personal warmth towards Neets, either, but that could stem from the fact that they didn't trust one another.#

~~Sparing the tiny mental reassurance that he'd explain later, Neets lets his tongue dab at the corner of his mouth, hand hovering over his secret stash even though he's standing now rather than crouching. His other comes up to brush at one alabaster cheek, the faint lingerings of moisture making him curious and wary.~~ Sh'dd'p. ~~His mutter is halfhearted, slipping from the shadows if only to gain a better view of his new acquaintance.~~ Ain't g'nna t'll y'noth'n 'bout 'im t'll y't'll me w'y're look'n fer'im. ~~In the back of his mind though, he does make note of his lover's given name being used...to most clients, "the man in the yellow hat" was all he was....B.J. to a select few...Beej, the more affectionate slur. Hardly ever "Blackwater" though...~~

*Only vaguely reassured, he hands over a grudging acceptance, subsiding into watchful concern once again.*

"What was that?" #The faint mumble gets a bit of a squint, but he doesn't move, otherwise.# "Oh, so you do know him... And, presumably, where he can be found." #And mark up another familial trait -- the use of precise words and cool tones when wary or angry with someone. Mulling the heavily accented words in part to ferret out their meanings, he paces a bit... Something Beej normally didn't do.# "I just want to see how he's doing... Ask after his sister. That sort of thing." #He turns a scrutinizing look on Neets, even though he can't see much of him, trying to decide if it was worth risking the young man's fleeing in order to confirm what he'd already picked up... The wind doesn't stir, though, the idea remaining coiled but at hand.#

~~If he'd felt odd facing down Beej's family in the desert in the guise of a woman, he felt even stranger now, picking out which features applied and which had nothing to do with his beloved. His own suspiscion was family of some form or another, but he didn't know, and he wouldn't lead trouble home.~~ Y'k'n f'nd'm in'ta m'rk't com' M'nday. Any'n'all b'zzn'ss y'got wit'im y'k'n tak' car'v't th're. ~~The short young man stands his ground, such as it is, hand firmly on his hip and expression defiant.~~

Hm. I don't really want to wait until Monday... #Not -quite- petulant, the words are spit out into the crisp air, accompanied by yet another brushing of that not-quite-natural wind. 'Dazzo's mouth moves, a bare murmur of a word formed, obviously not intended for Neets. The wind gets a bit stronger, nudging at the younger man's hair, neck, wrapping around his ankles and the shoddy boots that graced his feet... A brief whirlwind finishes whatever inspection air could make of a human and moved away, eddies of snow tracking its movement back to the elder Jones. It dissapates, and 'Dazzo sighs softly, shivering a bit with the cold of the night.# All right, you win... I am Randazzo, his brother. He's probably mentioned me.... #The tone of his voice suggests that it they weren't likely to be good things, whatever anecdotes the trader had chosen... He watches to see if the other man believes him, shivering lightly once more.#

T'ugh. ~~He shrugs easily, before the wind touches him again and he starts violently.~~ Qu't't! Demm't...~~Skinny arms, even wrapped in a coat, come up to curl around his chest. His glare hardens, green eyebrows lifting at the explanation.~~ Ain't'cha s'ppos'd t'be in ja'l r'summat?

Quit what? Oh. I was just...checking something. Sorry. #And he does sound almost contrite... Not very, though, and he does wince minutely as the younger man jumps. He -did- feel a small spark of malicious glee that he gave Neets a case of the creeps equal to his own. The mention of jail causes a much greater flinch, and he shakes his head.# I am... Was. I...sort of took an unauthorized foray in 'Lackwater's general direction, and I -do- want to find out about Nomi... #Screw the mindwarp, he was -cold-. And maybe he could stay the evening with his brother, provided he hadn't just blown his chance with the wind trick... Eyebrows raised, he watches Neets steadily, rocking heel-toe and pulling his own coat closer about himself.#

Don' do't 'gain. ~~Neets doesn't sound overly concerned with 'Dazzo's feelings, feet numbing slowly in the chilly night air. His eyes narrow, head shaking slowly.~~ Sh's fin'...n'I don' th'nk Beej wan's t't'lk t'you. T'll'm y'call'd tho'. ~~His expression is guarded, still, even the weak joke barbed with distrust.~~ Y'got s'mpl'c t'go?

No... #He sounds sincere enough. The head-shake elicits a darkening of his face; brows drawing together and mouth turning down.# Is she? And how would you know? Very funny. #The barbs, only fair since 'Dazzo had nettled first, still irk him. Shrugging a little, he flicks a glance down the street, then turns a deliberate, measuring glance on the young man before him. It's more of an apprasial of his height, build, and possible placement of weapons than anything else...# You not only know where he is, but you're most likely staying with him... Wonderful. Yes, I have someplace to stay. #His voice is alternately musing, flat, and... Flat-and-light. Randazzo's frown hadn't lightened, but neither had it darkened, so whether the 'wonderful' was meant as sarcasm is difficult to discern.# I'd offer to show you my ID, but I don't exactly have any. I don't imagine you'd take money, not that I have much... It's a little...trite, but I guess I could try telling you something about him that no one else but family could know... #Rolling his green eyes at that, he finally relents and zips up his coat.#

Jus' a gu'ss? ~~His smirk is wide, his teeth providing a few new barbs in the conversation without another word being said. He notes the look, shrugging at the seeming sarcasm that follows.~~ M'n't st'y'n wit' 'im, act'ally...n'm'not g'nna t'll'ya wh'r' 'e is. S'a c'ffee place on Om'n Str't...me't'cha th'r't noon t'm'rr'w, f'e feels lik' see'n'ya. ~~His look hardens; seemingly, this is his final offer.~~

Sort of. #Matter-of-fact, his eyebrows quirking a bit at the smirk... There was something...off...about the expression, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Shrugging back, 'Dazzo watches the younger man closely.# You're not? Odd... Ah well. Omen Street? That's... #He looks around the intersection, getting absolutely no help at all from the silent surroundings. Shaking his head, he gestures briefly in the wrong direction.# That way? And just how...popular is this coffee place? I'm not interested in being recognized by anyone other than Blackwater. #Scowling once again, he considers various options before settling on a new offer.# How about you just give me the name of the street he's on? I'm fairly resourceful...

Y'kin ask som'n fer d'recti'ns...s'a p'rk out back'a t'sh'p...s'not s'publ'c. ~~Rolling eyes that glint in the faint light, Neets points in the right direction. His small feet stomp, boots striking slushy sidewalk with wet thunking sounds as he tucks his fingers into his slightly warmer armpits.~~ M'not g'nna tell'ye w'ere 'e is.

#Grumbling softly under his breath, he brings his hands together in front of himself, rubbing them together and giving Neetles a poisonous look. Several ideas flitter though his head, the means of intimidation right in the palm of his hand... But he makes no movement for now, choosing instead to take a step and a half (roughly) closer to the Other.# Look, I don't want to ask anyone around here for directions, and I think... #Here, his hands clench into fists and slip back into his pockets.# I think that it's too cold to be standing around out here playing silly games. You're -awfully- worried about people finding out where he is. Why is that? #Speculative, insinuating, somewhat dangerous... 'Dazzo's voice hints at thinning patience, fraying temper... And perhaps an impending turn towards violence.#

*Meanwhile, elswhere in the city.... Beej had had enough of half-asleep waiting. He'd gotten up and mostly dressed, and was now parked on the couch, nudging softly, curiously at his belated beloved.*

~~Not overly intimidated, though extreme wariness has settled around him like a shroud, Neets doesn't take a step away from Dazzo.~~ Y'go 'bout three bl'cks w'st, n'mak'a r'gth. Y'c'n't m'ss't. ~~Green eyebrows draw low, an unhappy expression warring with open hostility.~~ 'e's a good fr'end'a'm'ne. Don' need'ya pok'n 'round in'is bizzn'ss. ~~His expression goes slightly lax for a second, focussing on Beej. |Your brother?| followed by a sharp mental image, and unable to hold back a smidgen of distaste.~~

"Three blocks west? Hm." #Still not happy at -all- with this turn of events, he looks about the area once more, trying to determine which direction 'west' is. Failing, he fixes Neets with a cold stare, not missing the displeasure on that pale face.# "Good friend? Eh. I bet... And just what reason do I look like I have for poking around in his business?" #His growing exasperation is expressed in biting words and the beginnings of agitated shifting from foot to foot... As well as an odd wringing of his hands. They -could- just be cold, but given the man's irritation... Sharp eyes catch the moment of inattention, and he presses the advantage, springing forward and doing his best to pin the younger, slighter man against the nearest wall...# "Look, you. I'm not going to kill you, because it would be stupid and useless, but if you do not start being more cooperative..." #He trails off, unable to find the word he wants.#

Nee- Oh. *Blinking, Beej shakes his head, startled out of aimless thoughts of nothing in particular by the almost frightening clarity of the query. One of the many benefits of practicing Thomas' sparse lessons was the lessening of the feeling of static between them... The image of Randazzo, though the man himself had changed somewhat, startled him further. The distaste brought about amusement, but only for a few short seconds.* ^^Could be... He...say so?^^ *'Dazzo? Roaming the streets? Maybe he'd gotten an early release, or something... Entirely possible, he supposed. Or maybe he'd been transferred to this city, and was now part of the wrok crews... Considering other, more threatening ideas very quietly, he does his best to keep his concern in check with his next...words.* ^^Want me?^^

~~And 'Dazzo -does- manage to pin him, a fact that sets loose self-protection instincts buried very recently. Cold and Anger, no longer as distinct as they might have been, but still mightily interested in keeping Neets hale slip to the fore, the knife stowed so carefully in his not-pocket in his hand with a twist of his fingers as he squirms and kicks, flashing teeth that make him look as feral as he seems. His yells are loud, not for help but orders to the man holding him.~~ Git'ch'r fuck'n 'ands off'a me! ~~His mental clarity lost, that white noise may be back for Beej, a tangle of anger|fear|wanttohurt, leavened with a generous dose of unhappiness that They were back.~~ Fuck'n bast'rd... ~~His hiss is all the warning 'Dazzo will have as the knife slashes out, best it can, heading for the larger man's gut.~~

#Even though he leads a somewhat less active life than his brother, he's still strong enough to mostly contain the struggling handful Neets becomes. It doesn't, however, render him immune to either the shouts or the odd blow that lands on his shin, all of them eliciting a wince or two.# "Shut up! All I want is some information. Kindly give it-" #His words are cut short as the glint of light on metal catches his attention... The blade catches in a fold of his ('Dazzo's) jacket, slowing the knife's progress long enough for him to try to get ahold of the bony wrist...# "Idiot." #He seems to be speaking to himself, as the word is almost absent-minded... He'd finally noticed those teeth. Other than staring perplexedly at whatever glimpses he could catch, he doesn't react to them...#

*Not so much white noise as a distinct indicator of something going terribly wrong... Confusion and anger wash together, flowing back towards his lover as he reaches for his own coat, slung over the other arm of the couch. It had taken him this long to used to the idea of Neetles making these nocturnal forays, and yet still more recently was he able to even -start- to fall asleep while the younger man was still out and about. While these trips bothered him, he -knew- how important they were, and was therefore rather reluctant to interfere with them... It didn't stop him from -wanting- to, though, and it was all he could do to keep from just 'fading the second the mess of unhappy thoughts poured in. So, he stands in the middle of the front room of their suite, coat on and looking quite piqued at nothing in particular...* ^^Need help?^^

~~Shaking inside and struggling outwardly, Neets gives up the attack as his wrist is captured, trying to jerk their joined hands up to his mouth and bite at the only exposed skin he can find, other than 'Dazzo's face. If he could reach his fader, he could get away...he'd regret it, but he could get away.~~ No. Ain't tell'n y'noth'n! ~~At this point, the young man doesn't care -who- his attacker is...he's angry, and feeling distinctly uncooperative. Instinct reaches out for Beej, clinging to the solidity of their bond as he tries his best to focus an answer. ::Please...now:: Now is more than a word, more than a request....it holds all the urgency he can muster, trying to knee 'Dazzo in a place he won't soon forget. He'd even be content if he could slip out between his legs, and to that end, he tries slipping towards the ground quite suddenly.~~

#'Dazzo resists as his wrist is jerked upwards, pulling it back towards himself... He says nothing at the refusal from the younger man, trying to shake the knife loose from both hand and fabric...#

*The last half-syllable is lost to the mildly disorienting dark of a 'fade, Beej's entire attention bent towards nothing more than getting that answer and acting upon it...*

#The knee, in the rather close quarters, is probably nowhere near as effective as Neets wants it to be... But it does serve to distract him, and disrupt his balance... And the young man's sudden slump groundwards finally earns more growled words, and the most likely unpleasant sensation of 'Dazzo trying to keep Neets upright.# "Don't do that!"

~~Glaring and keeping as firm a hold on the weapon as he can, Neets squirms, feeling his wrists rub raw in the tight grip of the other man. In the scuffle, he doesn't see Beej, if, indeed, he can be seen. Sensing the lack of balance, Neets gives up the knife, hoping the clatter of the blade to the ground will further distract 'Dazzo as he puts all his effort into throwing the other man off balance while yanking his hands from the controlling grasp at the same time.~~

#The sound of the knife falling to the ground is ignored by Randazzo, who is rather preoccupied with keeping from either falling on the ground, or just falling and landing on his floundering captive. As his objective wasn't and -isn't- to truly injure the younger man, he shuffles backwards half a step or so, releasing Neets' wrist to try to get ahold of his shoulder or biceps, whichever are handiest.# "Quit squirming! I haven't done anything to you, and I'm not going to 'cept maybe... I don't know. Just tell me where he is..."

*Indeed, Beej wouldn't be visible to Neets, at least, not quite yet... Once the air finished twitching as it was displaced by the trader's mass, he might be able to. Blackwater hesitates a moment, eyeing the two antagonists and attempting to figure out the fastest, most effective way to distract them... And settled for crossing his arms and cocking his head to one side.* Maybe what, and where who is?

~~Shoulders are handiest, or so it would seem, Neets managing to at least free himself of being backed to the wall. Finding himself hissing like a cat, he tries to calm down and fails, Anger coursing through him in wave after wave as he's made helpless. Feeling Beej near, he stills somewhat inside, but the voice so close makes him jump just a little.~~

#And Randazzo -does- jump, being nearer to his brother than Neetles. He doesn't relinquish his hold, though, nor does he do much more than lean away from the hissing youth. After a few stunned seconds, he lets his hands drop, stepping back and glaring yet again.# "Was that so hard? Why didn't you just..." #His question trickles to a stop in the middle as he reviews the conversation just past... Recalling nothing resembling Neets fiddling with his 'fader, not that it couldn't have happened, he's at a bit of a loss to explain Blackwater's arrival... He's still not looking at him, busy staring at Neetles as if he were something mildly unpleasant found growing in a refrigirator.#

*Blackwater, meanwhile, has taken a step or two closer to the wall that had recently trapped his lover, offering both calm annoyance and the rather odd image of himself, dressed in nothing but his unlaced boots, one of his pairs of grey shorts, and his coat. He takes the time to look Neets over carefully, determining that the only blood was on his lip and was likely self-inflicted... Good. He ignores 'Dazzo as well, propping fists on hips.* You all right?

~~Neets resists the urge to kick 'Dazzo, even though he could likely do it well, what with the poleaxed expression that hovers over the other man's face for a minute. He chooses instead to step well away from him, trying to stifle a giggle at the image Beej sends him, mostly because he knows it would give way to hysterics.~~ Din' t'll'ya 'ca's't ain't non'a'yer bizzn'ss. Y'keep y'r fuck'n 'ands -off- me. ~~He doesn't bother to back the words with any other threat than the murderous glare in his eyes, slipping off towards his lover.~~ Ye'h...m'ok'y...

#Randazzo probably would not have reacted well, which in turn would have elicted a rather prompt and unfriendly response from Beej, so it's better that Neets didn't. Stooping suddenly, his hand darts out, scooping up the dropped knife. As he straightens, he looks no more aimiable than he had seconds ago, though he does dry the blade on his shirt and offer it to the green-haired lad, hilt first.# "Ah, but it -is- my business... Family is family, after all. Hello, 'Lackwater..."

*Blackwater nods once, shortly, his words the same snipped-off tone as his brother's were, earlier, though he's hardly upset with Neets. Resisting the urge to just gather him up and take them both off to what was home for now, he slips his hands into his pockets.* Very good. For a moment, I thought I might have to kill him... *Sighing softly, he relaxes a bit and finally turns a rather non-plussed look on the older Jones. He just looks at him, for the time being, one shoulder lifting after a bit.* Hello. Aren't you going to apologize, Randy?

~~Jaw set, he whisks the knife out of Randazzo's hand and stows it away, his actions mostly hidden in the shadow he's sunk in. He shrugs, his only answer to the elder Jones, watching his lover closely. He hadn't really ever said much about his brother, just a few things that led him to believe he wasn't the most pleasant of men.~~ S'okay.

"Apologize? For what? I didn't do anything to him..." #The man's face rumples in distaste at the truncation of his name, and he nods to Neets' shrug, supposing for the moment that they'd achieved some sort of...balance, or maybe understanding, if not a truce.# "I suppose next you'll be telling me to be civil..." #Removing his hat, he half-bows to Neets before extending his hand and speaking with no little sarcasm.# "Hello, there. I am Randazzo Jones, and you are? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

*Beej's first response isn't exactly suitable for reprinting. His second is to wave a hand at his brother and shake his head, shifting himself subtly towards his young man.* Actually, I was going to ask you what the hell you were doing here, since last -I-, or for that matter -anyone- knew, you were still incarcerated. *The act irks him further, and he can't help thinking that he'd deserve it if A Certain Someone bit the proffered hand. A small gust of wind (real wind, caused by a high-pressure area flowing into a low-pressure area) swirls past his bare ankles, diverting his attention to only slightly less inflammatory thoughts... Like the rather warm rooms he'd left in such a hurry.*

Hmmmph. D'r'ther bugg'r a go't n'shak' yer 'and. Piss off. ~~His own bow is every ounce as mocking, his introduction sharply acidic in nature.~~ Neetl'm'r. Y'k'n k'ndly not t'lk t'me. ~~He shivers in the wind, glaring a touch at 'Dazzo before falling silent as the two brothers converse.~~

#The hand is retracted with a smirk that fades into bewilderment, which soon enough melts into something that's almost a real smile.# "Certainly..." #He seems to have interpreted the command to make himself scarce in a completely different way... Jerking his thumb in Beej's direction, he smirks again.# "A goat? What's the matter, he ain't pretty enough for you?" #Figuring -that- would annoy the guy with the green hair, he shrugs.# "You make me curious. I'll think about it." #The wind makes him a bit calmer, and he actually closes his eyes for a moment, before turning his attention back to Blackwater.# "Aren't you the eloquent one. Hmph. I -was-... This is a... Rather unauthorized foray in your general direction... Or to see you, since you're here, now. The accomodations left much to be desired. Have you been home recently? How's Nomi and her kids? And just who -is- that?" #This last isn't asked any more quietly or subtly than the rest of the questions, 'Dazzo's thumb reappearing, directed Neets' way, this time.#

A goat... *Muttering this under his breath, he bites his lower lip -hard- to keep from bursting into laughter. The amusement dies almost as quickly as it was born when Randazzo questions Neets, though he merely rolls his eyes.* -Now- I will ask you to be civil, -Randy-. And to tell you that you'd probably be better off in the long run if you respected Neetles' requests. *Nodding gives way to staring as 'Dazzo admits that he's not exactly here as part of a work-release program.* The food was awful too, I imagine. Good Gods -Above-, 'Dazzo... Did you ever think of just -calling- me? *Shaking his head, he glances at Neets.* Yeah, I've been home recently. Nomi and her kids are just fine, and it was really kind of too bad you weren't there... the grandparents were there, along with more cousins than I think I ever want to see again. Who, Neets? *His grin isn't the normal, completely-smitten one he wore when discussing Neets with others... This one was far more calculating, almost as sharkish as the younger man's.* Asta loe ihre dybasch. So there.

D'n't yer pr's'n boyfr'nd m'ss'ya? ~~His words are a direct response to Dazzo's jeering, finding a part of himself enjoying the chance to lash out. His shrug is the last word he's willing to speak at the moment though, preferring to let his lover answer the rest of the obnoxious questions. He -does- grin to match Blackwater as he tells his brother what they are to each other, but that's the lot of it, beyond the careful stamping of his feet.~~

"Ah-" #Between Blackwater's simple statement and Neets' retort, he's left fumbling for anything resembling a coherent sentence. The stamping of Neetles' feet seem to jar his thoughts back into gear and he gives the younger man the blackest look he can dredge up.# "You can just shut up, you little twit." #Leveling the same expression on his brother, he lifts a curious eyebrow.# Dihre dybasch? -Him-? #Shaking his head, he waves a hand.# I don't want to hear any more. You're... You've taken to kids, now? I think I might have to leave..."

*Blackwater reaches out, poking Neets rather sternly in the side and hissing at him.* Neets! *He cannot help a snicker, though, allowing himself a chuckle at 'Dazzo's reaction to the impertinent question. The following query, though, grates on his nerves, bringing about a rather thoughtful scowl of his own. Turning to Neets, he pats the spot he'd just poked, voice somewhat conciliatory.* Hmph. You want to answer this allegation, or shall I? *The desire to just pop 'Dazzo in the nose and be done with it reasserts itself, but the trader stays where he is, the possible consequences almost too horrible to contemplate.*

~~Positively -beaming-, Neets folds his arms over his chest again, managing an angelic look for all of five seconds.~~ Awwww....y'm'ss 'im! I'll lo'n'ya a qu'rt'r n'ya kin call'im...'ow's th't? ~~He doesn't seem very repentant, even after the poke, and -especially- not after the comment that leaves him bristling.~~ Y'k'n...'e'd jus' make me y'll. M'of leg'l age, an I nev'r was no k'd. ~~His snort is loud, a puff of steam in the wintry air.~~

#The eldest Jones blanches at Neetles' offer, looking somewhat queasy at the idea. Nausea is soon supplanted by distaste and his ever-growing ire, which manifests itself in a clenched fist and two steps towards the shorter of the pair.# "Listen, you little fag, I don't have one and I sure as hell don't want any of -your- money." #The words obviously pain him, since he realizes exactly how easy it would be to deliberately misinterpret them. Well, everything except the epithet, anyhow. Green eyes dart back and forth between the other two men, 'Dazzo only catching part of Neets' mutterings.#

*Blackwater shakes his head slowly, pressing a hand over his mouth and looking resolutely at the ground. He isn't ignoring the situation, though, since he looks up sharply as his brother steps closer to Neets.* I think I'll only tell you this once, Randazzo. If you touch him with malicious intentions, you are most likely -not- going to enjoy the results. *He leaves it at that, squaring his shoulders and folding his own arms.* As much as I dislike speaking about him as if he weren't here, Neets is, as he said, -quite- legal. The rest of it... You really ought not believe everything you hear, 'Dazzo. Not -all- of us are all appetite and no taste, -or- caution. *A wave of his hand in dismissal, Beej tilting his head to one side.*

Ooooo...d'f'n'sive. ~~Giving it up, he merely grins infuriatingly and falls silent. Annoying 'Dazzo wasn't a good idea, more than likely, but it came too easily, especially in the light of their recent physical scuffle. It made him a feel a bit guilty though, like he was hiding behind Beej. So, making a face, he ignores the slur tossed at him.~~

"Funny, coming from the pansy-ass brat that wouldn't answer a simple question. -You- were quite defensive." #Snorting back, he looks the tiniest bit smug at the face Neets pulls.# "Or what, 'Lackwater, you'll beat me up?" #Pausing there, he weighs various replies, shifting his feet as he does.# "Mm. I'll bet... I -don't- want to hear about it, Blackwater. Just keep your little depravities to yourself." #He frowns at Neets again, muttering to himself about the corruption of the natural order before shrugging, happy enough to drop the subject.# "You said the grandparents were there? How are they holding up? And could we maybe find somewhere slightly warmer to discuss this?"

Beat you up? *He's distinctly displeased with 'Dazzo's continued abusiveness, but as Neets doesn't seem to be terribly disturbed, he falls back a step, putting himself back in line with his lover.* I don't know. Probably not. *Beej gives Neetlemyre a considering glance, laced with a few ounces of reproach for baiting 'Dazzo so, carefully constructing a brief scenario in which he (Beej) hauled off and socked his brother, -questioning- and the invitation to share his probable reaction to that following it. He already had a fair idea of how the young man might respond, and he didn't like it any more than he was enjoying the chill of the evening. Looking back to Randazzo, his mouth flattens and his brows quirk into a 'you're being an -idiot-' expression.* But I wanted to tell you all about our courtship! And both weddings! *Losing the sarcasm, he sighs once more.* They were all right, for people of their years. An'dath has developed a heart condition of some sort, and so has to stay in the shade all the time. She -hates- it. I don't know... I don't think that- There's a coffeeshop a few blocks away, I don't know if it's an all-night place or what. *Taking yet -another- look at Neets, he shrugs a bit.* D'you suppose it'd be all right to allow him into the inner sanctum, or should we just stay on nice, neutral ground and head for Laura Ann's?

N'd'-you- giv'out'ch'r nam'n'addr'ss t'an'body't w'lks up't'ya onna stre't? ~~His answer is plain, trying to control the last twinges as Anger reminds him that he's only a hairsbreadth away from all of Them at any given time. Bad enough to be fighting with this twit...worse to be stuck fighting with himself, again. His reply to Beej is more of a vague assent than anything else....if he gave into the desire to see 'Dazzo sprawled on the concrete he'd also be giving in to Anger, and he didn't want that anymore. He does shake his head quite violently at the thought of the repulsive relative being allowed into their home, however temporary it was.~~ La'ra's. Don' want'm in our 'ouse.

"Point taken." #The words are grudging, Randazzo's anger cooling somewhat suddenly, though it's not gone altogether. The words take a moment to process, 'Dazzo waiting quietly until Beej turns to speak with his (ugh!) lover.# "Wait, wait, wait... Wedding-s-? Plural? And -what's- the matter with An'Dath?" #Scowling again, he looks his brother over more closely and wondered if he was wearing anything at all under that coat...# "Wherever. So long as it's warmer than out here."

*Nodding once, the trader relaxes as his brother does, though he doesn't uncross his arms. His head shakes, subtly negating Neets' semi-tacit permission. As long as Randazzo behaved in a mostly civil manner, he wouldn't hit him... No matter how much he might want to.* Hmm? Oh, yes... Weddings, plural. As in more than one. Two, to be exact. *Frowning in puzzlement, Beej shrugs.* I don't know what it is, exactly... Something's wrong with her heart and she has to stay relatively still. Laura Ann's it is, then... Which is fine with me, as it's... Just around the corner, I think, and down a block? *Neetles is looked to again, as he's spent more time wandering around down here of late.*

Mmmmm...~~Neets doesn't push it either, content to let the chill between them drop a bit. He nods at Beej's not-quite question, jerking his head towards the corner and starting off. He didn't like this man....not one tiny little bit. Didn't like that he was obviously a first class prick, didn't like that he featured prominently in Beej's memories of childhood anger and pain... Reigning himself in, he fixes his attention on the steady thump of his boots on the pavement.~~

"Two. Riiiight, sure, I -believe- _that_..." #Shaking his head, 'Dazzo follows Neetles' lead, uncaring that the young man wasn't terribly fond of him, glancing back over his shoulder.# "All of the elders would expire on the spot if you even -suggested- such a thing." #Grumbling something somewhat incoherent and in his mother tongue, he then tramps along in thoughtful silence for a few yards.# "Hm. They are getting rather old... Not surprising that bits and pieces are giving out." #Randazzo sounds almost saddened by this news, and in truth, he is. His generation was not the first to bring changes to the family's life, but they preserved, and -ob-served relatively fewer traditions than the elders did... Something that had been nettling at him for the better part of two and a half years prickled again, and he cast another dour look Neets' way.#

Can't help it, it's true... *He catches up to the older Jones, not insinuating himself between 'Dazzo and his love, at least not yet. The stray feelings of animosity are sort of gently patted at, Beej idly shuffling through memories and handing over a few containing 'Dazzo at his nicest... They mostly seem to be centered around Nomi, but then she -was- the baby of the family and almost everyone doted on her.* Believe what you want... Mother was the one that insisted on the second one, since everyone was already in one spot. *The day was -still- something of one big blur, to him, with a few incedents standing out with great clarity amidst the chaos.* I heard that, by the way. This is the only response I'm gracing it with, however. *Nodding, he watches his feet for a moment, idly matching his stride to the prints Neets leaves behind.* True. I know where they were last headed for, if you wanted to try to find them.

~~Glancing up, he pauses at the street corner and looks back. He's annoyed to see 'Dazzo between himself and Beej, but doesn't say anything. A pale hand runs through silk-fine green hair, tucking strands back under his hood before he speaks.~~ M'g'nna go back 'ome Beej...m't'red... ~~It was true enough, and followed by the image of himself in a hot shower and the feeling of relaxing, he's sure it'll do the trick.~~

*Cutting off 'Dazzo's building rant mid-syllable, he waves a hand at his brother.* You probably should look elsewhere. *He didn't care -what- 'Dazzo said to him at this point, this was important. At least, it was important to -him-... Closing the distance between himself and Neets, he's already nodding, adding his own wistful thoughts of going to sleep. A small, soft sigh later...* All right. I was about to ask you if you wanted to go, anyhow, since we're sort of... Well, anyhow. *Shaking his head to dismiss his displeasure with his brother, he gently drops an arm over slender shoulders, pulling him closer for a long moment, pressing a short, rather chaste kiss to his mouth. Tempting as it was to make a scene for the sole purpose of disgusting the older man, he thinks better of it and releases Neets with a pat on the shoulder.* Go on... I'll be there when I get there.

#Dazzo, meanwhile, grumbles more ominously and pointedly diverts his attention to doing -something- odd to the nearest snowbank.#

Next! -->

Literally translated, 'Asta loe ihre dybasch' comes out as something like 'this young man is that which is my own and that which is loved'. More loosely, though, it's, "He's my beloved." Sincerest apologies to any German speakers in the audience, as I like the sound of 'ihre' so much I swiped it. I'm taking good care of it, though! *Grin*