im taking a bit of a. Break from Freddy, i just don't have muse for him in the rp sense right now? however feel free to interact with me @drivebye and if you.... really like my freddy for any reason..... i wrote a 10k word thing on ao3 under my user sqarface :-)

Protective sentence starters??

babykillcr:

smollmikey:

because visualizing muses in these situations generally equates to puppies guarding each other and its wonderful

“No, don’t do that it’s not safe.”

“You’re scared of that, aren’t you?”

“Don’t touch her/him!”

“It’s cute that you tried to protect me and all, but you’re like a foot shorter than me, you know?”

“I will always step in between you and something like that.”

“Why? Because I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why!”

“Do you think just because my feet don’t touch the bottom of the pool that I need a floatie?”

“The stepping stool is unecessary.”

“I’m not apologizing for what I said to that asshole/jerk… He/she was saying terrible things about you.”

“If you say another word about her/him, you’ll regret it.” 

“I don’t want to put you in that type of environment.”

“Make sure to tell me if you get worried, or nervous, or claustrophobic, or-”

“You could have been hurt.”

“I indirected him/her on Twitter for your honor.”

“I think you should leave this type of thing to me.”

“I’m gonna protect you.”

“You can hold onto me if you’re scared, you know?”

“I’m not leaving you alone.  Not now, not ever.”

“Let’s all watch a different movie.  This one freaks her/him out.”

“I get where you’re coming from dude, but honestly shut the hell up and don’t talk about her/him that way.”

“She/He isn’t an object.”

“She/he told me what you did, and all I’m gonna do is tell you to stay away.”

“You don’t know anything about her/him!”

“What?  You think that was funny?  You just insulter her/him, and expect me to laugh?”

“I’m not gonna let you put up with that.”

“Really, if you told me to I’d go punch them for you.”

“Wait, let me walk you home.”

“I’ll drive you, please– please don’t go like this.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I meant it when I said I would protect you.”

“I’m not stepping aside until you back up.”

“It’s too cold for you to come out here without a jacket on.”

“I’ll go see what the noise was.”

“Stay on the phone with me.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you going there on your own.”

“He/She did what to you?”

“I won’t let you go through something like that again.”

“I’m not perfect, but I’m trying my hardest to do everything to keep you safe.”

“Stay behind me.”

“I promised your mom to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“I love you.  Of course I’m gonna defend you like that.”

“No, he/she isn’t good enough to take you out.  Trust me, I know.” 

“Are you planning to stay glued to my side this whole evening?”

“I’ll be okay, because I know you’re back here ready to step in if I need you.”

“Thank you for always sticking with me.”

“I’m really worried about her/him, but I don’t think he/she wants me to call.”

“I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

“Like, I don’t expect to ever have to take a bullet for you, but I would.”

there’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. you don’t need to know the route. you give me a time and a place, i give you a five minute window. anything happens in that five minutes and i’m yours. no matter what. anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. do you understand?

terminalgod 

    “What do I want?”

    Each word is slow and slimy, the slow southern drawl creeping out of his lips and tinged with humor, even when he’s being manhandled. Nothing he isn’t used to these days. He’s a beautiful glowing man in his twenties.

    How disappointing it’d be not to be snarled at by random men from coffeeshops. 

    Resting a hand on Freddy’s shoulder, Absalom smiles at him with a face so perfect it might be sculpted from marble or parodied in art by the less successful and the less beautiful. Criticism of the beautiful is unseemly and unbecoming.

    “HEDONISM: I don’t want anything. I want everything. I want anything but nothing. Who knows?” he arches his neck forward despite the resistance and presses his forehead on his counterpart’s. That grin is asking for trouble. Who knows when he’ll get it. “I don’t even drink coffee.”

              as abalsom talks he wonders if there is meant to be DEPTH in his words, in the playful, smirking way he says that he doesn’t drink coffee in. in the droning everything-and-nothing-at-all philosophy. he doesn’t find it. newandyke isn’t a writer. he’s a very plain and simple person, average in a nearly painful way and forward in a new kind of definition. he lives by the talented commoner’s dictionary, even if it really isn’t his. an actor. that’s him. that’s freddy. unbecoming, passive, perfect criteria for someone of his position except not now, exactly. he’s noticeable, targeted in a crowd by a cheap poet who is, if his words mean a damn thing, just looking for fun. the sun is up. the line is long. he wants to spend money. abalsom wants to annoy people. so he will. it’s a very pathetic segment of the population to be a part of but if freddy’s got to deal with it (got to deal with the forehead on his the forehead on his he doesn’t like that he’s got half a mind not to bash it into the brick but he’s passive he’s passive he doesn’t do rash shit now does he no not at all just play it safe man play it safe

                 ❛ everything, something, huh? that’s cool, man, that’s cool. ❜   he bites his lip. worries is. absently wonders if morning aggravation will eventually have him breaking it, have him tasting metalblood. newandyke moves his head back slowly, switching between a hand and an elbow digging, lean-to shoulder to keep the other pinned there. he tries not to pay him time of day, fishes a cigarette from a pocket (but does not smoke, he doesn’t even have a zippo on him) like this is Nothing, capital N and hard -thing.  ❛ you go find that somewhere else, then. go not buy coffee from another place. find another guy in a line. i ain’t givin’ you shit. you’re a real asshole. ❜ asshole was a good summary, but there’s a lot of details left out, aren’t there? this isn’t a quickspout guy, yelling things in a line and acting cheeky as he harasses some poor bitch working minimum wage or a purposely seeking out the guy that looks like he’s got the most on his mind. this is the kindd that causes SCENES. scenes that extend longer and farther than they should ; all freddy can think about is walking out of here quick, raise less questions. draw no attention. but he’s got to make sure he’s the real winner here, first. the definite goodguy (it’s a picked up habit of his ; thank you, fellow blueboys).

terminalgod

    Well-dressed, you say?

    He squeals like a small animal when thrown against the wall, looking frantically to the side to check if his scraped skin has elicited wine-colored bloodstains into the soft Thom Browne he’s wearing. “Watch it!” he shrieks through gritted teeth, his low southern honey voice going rancidly high.

    He tilts his head back and looks over him, the frown of his mouth crawling into a smirk as he scrutinizes him. Shifting in his grip smugly, he tilts his head back and stares at him with half-lidded eyes. “This is kind of cozy, don’t you think?”

            ❛ no.  it  isn’t.  you’re  fucked.  what  do  you  want?❜   freddy doesn’t ‘watch it’. does the exact opposite, really. pushes him a little harder into the brick at that last sly comment, teeth clenched and eyes harrowed. he didn’t get the impulsive mood-jump, the flattering way the other looked at him and his almost suggestive tone of voice. total contradiction to his scathing words inside just a moment ago. was it planned? maybe, maybe. but newandyke isn’t into this kind of planning and he’s not into inconveniences, not into deviations from a plan that he cannot fully control, oh no. there are set specifics. there is a guideline to mornings and lunches and afternoons and he’d gladly jump a bus now and then but he’d be the one doing it. a guy that probably wore armani and lived in the los angeles equivalent lifestyle of the fictional likes of patrick bateman and fellow american psychos, bi-polars, and antisocials didn’t make calls. freddy might say, that’s cozy, and people would agree or disagree. freddy bought a coffee, and people left freddy alone. freddy did his own damn thing and played his own damn game and you either walked around it or played it too.

terminalgod

    Soft bottom lip jutting out in a pout, he side-eyes the barista toting thick-rimmed glasses and notices him staring. No, he can’t get coffee now. The guy will spit in his drink and disguise it in the froth of the espresso’s foam.

    “Come with me!” he demands suddenly, his demeanor swinging like a pendulum, face cheery and cheeks flushed as he takes Freddy’s hand and leads him away to the door, forcefully jerking him out of his space. “Come with me, come with me, come with me!”

             his  mind  works  faster  than  his  body,  thank  god  ;  freddy  waits  until  he’s  pulled  outside  to  do  anything  RASH.  makes  a  mental  note  not  to  show  his  face  around  here  for  at  least  another  week.  he’d  get  gas  station  coffee,  where  the  faces  are  many  and  the  prices  are  few.  the  glass  door  swings  pathetically  in  the  wake  of  rude  stranger,  bell  clanging  in  faux  cheerfulness  as  freddy  takes,  almost  immediately,  the  opportunity  to  wrestle  out  of  the  grip  and  get  absalom  into  his.  brick  wall  to  his  back.  hand  on  his  pathetic  richguy  shirt.  newandyke’s  sure  that  there’s  a  definite  resistance  to  his  clapback  but  he  doesn’t  care,  hardly  minds  it.  this  has  been  a  shit  way  to  start  the  morning  and  he  isn’t  going  to  let  some  all-over-the-place,  well-dressed  nutcase  fucking  get  away  with  it.

                   ❛ what  kinda  operation  do  you  think  you’re  fuckin’  pulling?  what  the  hell  was  that? ❜  

frightfulls

  she shakes her head a little as the bar tender places a glass in front of her - a pretty yellow hue with a tacky umbrella. fingers drag up and down the condensation on the side of the glass as she looks to her company, “ yeah, sure i do. i think you would, too, if you spent every night here. “ the glass is lifted and she takes a sip, making a small face as she realises the sweet colour was deceptive. “ so, you wanna drink? try this – uh… what’s your name again? “ the drink is offered to him ( only partly out of kindness. she wants him to put down the cigarette so that she can pick it up ).

     ❛ NEWANDYKE.  freddy  newandyke. ❜   newly-named  man  waves  in  faux  greeting,  glancing  down  at  the  drink  he’s  being given.  considering  yes-or-no  scenario,  and  then  deciding,  of  course,  why  the  hell  not?  he  can’t  just  come  into  places  like  this  and  act  like  there’s  a  stick  jammed  up  his  ass.   ❛ hope  you  got  a name.  if  you  don’t  i’ll  make  one  for  you,  but  what  is  it? ❜  freddy’s  hand  plucks  the  cigarette  from  beneath  his  teeth,  fingers  balancing  it  above  the  bar.  spilling  ash,  no  doubt.  the  beginning  notes  of  some  simon  and  garfunkel  collaboration  spill  out  of  the  back  of  the bar  as  he  finally takes  a  sip.  surprised  by  the  taste.  but  he  keeps  it  in  hand  (without  comment)  anyhow.

gckouno

          “oh, you callin’ me crazy now? pretty sure you’re part of old-man cabot’s crew.                     you gon’ tell me the fuckin’ truth or get a bullet in your head, which one is it?”

          ❛ crazy?  no,  no,  never  called  you  crazy.  never  would.  now,  TRUTH    ────                 what  would,  you  know,  a  young  guy  like  me  doin’  with  him?  he’s  oldstyle,             don’t  know  shit,  man.  trust  me.  he’s  just  burning  through  his  collection  of              older  guys  nowadays,  you know?  i  mean,  it’s  a complete  fucking  JOKE. ❜

terminalgod

    Turning on his heel, Absalom stares at Freddy with his head upturned, nose pert and the physical representation of haughtiness. Blinking rapidly, as if he’s just had a bump of coke, he puts a hand on his counterpart’s shoulder gentle and rubs along the slant of his collarbone with his thumb.

     “You’re going to hell.”

              he  has  half  a  mind  not  to  hit  back  on  simple  IMPULSE,  but  newandyke  manages  to  hold  up  the  self  control.  pretentious  freak  ;  conserved  in  himself  and  self-entitled  to  all  the  space  he’d  want,  huh?  he’s  lucky  that  freddy  keeps  his  cool.  that  maybe  freddy’s  a  little  on  the  shorter  side,  on  the  scrawnier  scale  of  things.  but  he’s  rough,  and  that  just  might  be  a  perfect  hitback  to  the  grotesquely  gentle  show  he’s  being  treated  with  now.

                    ❛ rack  it  down,  man.  deescalate.  i  just  want  a  fuckin’  coffee,  is  that  too much?❜  

RP starters: Heated argument.

content warning: death baiting.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Leave. Leave right now.”

“What more do you want?!”

“I really wish you were never born.”

“I hate you!”

“Can you just fuck off already?”

“Shut up! Just.. Shut up!”

“All you do is whine.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.”

“How did that feel?”

“Oh my god, I don’t care!”

“No wonder nobody likes you.”

“Is this how little you think of me?”

“That hurt you son of a bitch…”

“Pack your shit and go. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

“Leave me alone!”

“I can break your nose if I want to.”

“Are you going to cry now?”

“I wouldn’t miss you. Nobody would.”

“You’re so pathetic!”

“I won’t forget this.”

“I’m going to break your jaw if you keep talking!”

“Why can’t you listen to a single thing I say?!”

“I have a right to be angry.”

“This would have never happened if you wouldn’t exist.”

“Get out of my life!”

“You’re nothing! Did you hear me?! Nothing!”

“You ruined everything.”

@gckouno ♥’d

           ❛ BIG  MISUNDERSTANDING,  man,  i  promise, no. i swear to you gecko                  ────    you’re  barking  up  the  wrong  tree. ❜

❈ ———— THE LOST BOYS SENTENCE STARTERS.

’ _______ wants to know what’s going on. ’ ’ ________, what’s going on? ’ ’ I don’t know. What’s going on, _______? ’ ’ Wait a minute. Who wants to know? ’ ’ How are those maggots? ’ ’ You’re eating maggots. How do they taste? ’ ’ Second shelf is mine. ’ ’ Nobody touches the second shelf but me. ’ ’ It is too late, my blood is in your veins. ’ ’ Wait, wait. You have a TV? ’ ’ No. I just like to read the TV Guide. ’ ’ Read the TV Guide, you don’t need a TV. ’ ’ If you try to stop us, or vamp out in any way, I’ll stake you without even thinking twice about it! ’ ’ One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach; all the damn vampires. ’ ’ Don’t ever invite a vampire into your house, you silly boy. ’ ’ It renders you powerless. ’ ’ Did you know that? ’ ’ Of course. Everyone knows that. ’ ’ What, you don’t like rice? ’ ’ Now you know what we are, now you know what you are. ’ ’ You’ll never grow old, ______, and you’ll never die. ’ ’ It’s that girl from the boardwalk. Is she one of them? ’ ’ And don’t tell me it doesn’t make her a bad person, ______. ’ ’ Holy shit! It’s the attack of Eddie Munster! ’ ’ It was all going to be so perfect, ______. ’ ’ Great! The Bloodsucking Brady Bunch! ’ ’ Just like one big, happy family. ’ ’ So where’re we going? ’ ’ So what’s the rush? You’re chasing that girl aren’t you? ’ ’ Come on, admit it. ’ ’ Come on, admit it. I’m at the mercy of your sex glands, bud. ’ ’ Got a problem, guys? ’ ’ Just scoping your civilian wardrobe. ’ ’ Pretty cool, huh? ’ ’ Where the hell are you from? Krypton? ’ ’ You think you really know what’s happening here, don’t you? ’ ’ Well, I’ll tell you something, you don’t know shit, buddy. ’ ’ You think we just work at a comic book store for our folks, huh? ’ ’ Actually, I thought it was a bakery. ’ ’ This is just a cover; we’re dedicated to a higher purpose. ’ ’ We’re fighters for truth, justice, and the American way. ’ ’ Hey, anything around here that might pass for aftershave? ’ ’ Yeah, yeah, let me try some of that. ’ ’ How about some Windex, ________? ’ ’ You have a big date tonight, ________? ’ ’ Look at your reflection in the mirror. ’ ’ You wait ‘till mom finds out, buddy! ’ ’ My own brother/sister, a goddamn, shit-sucking vampire. ’ ’ You’re a creature of the night, just like out of a comic book! ’ ’ You did the right thing by calling us. ’ ’ Does the sunlight freak him/her out? ’ ’ Uh, he/she wears sunglasses in the house. ’ ’ Bad breath, long fingernails? ’ ’ Here’s what you do: get yourself a good sharp stake and drive it right through his heart. ’ ’ You’d better get yourself a garlic T-shirt, buddy, or it’s your funeral. ’ ’ This place has become a haven for the undead. ’ ’  Kill your brother/sister, you’ll feel better. ’ ’ Holy shit, Vampire Hotel. ’ ’ What’s that smell? ’ ’ Vampires, my friend, vampires. ’ ’ We’re on the right trail. ’ ’ Flies and the undead go together like bullets and guns. ’ ’ We blew it, man, we lost it! ’ ’ We unraveled in the face of the enemy! ’ ’ It’s not our fault, they pulled a mind scramble on us! ’ ’ They opened their eyes and talked! ’ ’ We don’t ride with vampires. ’ ’ Burn rubber does not mean warp speed! ’ ’ Guys, we’re on our own. ’ ’ Good, just the way we like it. ’ ’ When a vampire bites it, it’s never a pretty sight. ’ ’ No two bloodsuckers go the same way. ’ ’ Death by stereo! ’ ’ Shut up! ’ ’ I nailed one of them downstairs with a bow and arrow. ’ ’ We trashed the one that looks like Twisted Sister. ’ ’ Totally annihilated his night-stalking ass! ’ ’ We’re awesome monster bashers! ’ ’ Death to all vampires! ’ ’ Notice anything unusual about ______ yet? ’ ’ No, it’s actually a pretty cool place… if you’re a Martian! ’ ’ You guys sniffin’ on newsprint or somethin’? ’ ’ If he’s dead, can we go back to Phoenix? ’ ’ Do you know what it means when there’s no TV? - No MTV! ’ ’ Are you freebasing, ______? Inquiring minds want to know. ’ ’ There’s our number on the back. And pray you never need to call us. ’ ’ I’ll pray I never need to call you. ’ ’ Look, this isn’t a comic book, these guys are brutal killers. ’ ’ Don’t kill me. I’m basically a good kid. ’ ’ Haha! Garlic don’t work, boys! ’ ’ Talk about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. ’ ’ I haven’t changed my mind about that. ’ ’ Come on, be one of us. ’ ’ Initiation’s over. Time to join the club! ’ ’ It’s so much better if you don’t fight. ’ ’ Mom! Mom, no! Don’t do it, Mom! Mom, don’t do it! ’ ’ I bet you hate garlic, dontcha!? ’ ’ I like garlic! It’s just a little much! It’s raw garlic. ’ ’ I can’t tell you. I don’t know how to help you. ’ ’ What’s happening to me, _____? ’ ’ Well, now, let me put it this way. ’ ’ You just have to try and keep up. ’ ’ Grab the rock box, kid! ’ ’ What’d you do to my dog, you asshole? ’ ’ You’re a vampire! I knew it! ’ ’ So what are you? The Flying Nun? ’ ’ You got carried away by a comic book? ’ ’ It was a scary comic, mom. I’m sorry. ’ ’ Have you been eating pizza? ’ ’ Don’t kill anyone until we get back to you! ’ ’ Come on. Vampires have such a rotten temper. ’ ’ First come, first staked. ’ ’ What was that? A little vampire humor? Well, it wasn’t funny! ’ ’ Okay, where’s Nosferatu? ’ ’ How much do you think we should charge them for this? ’ ’ I gotta tell you something - it’s real important. ’ ’ Look, there’s evidence on my sweater. ’ ’ Hey! Smells good! When do we eat? ’ ’ Right! Now we are going to have company again! ’ ’ Are we going to have company again? ’ ’ Is there any jobs around here? ’ ’ Well, you’re the man of the house and I’m not coming in until you invite me. ’ ’ I didn’t invite you this time, ______. ’ ’ You’re invited. ’ ’ Thanks very much. ’ ’ How you doing? You must be, right? ’

terminalgod 

    “If you don’t stop breathing down my neck, I will kill myself,” he jabs a pointed elbow into his chest–God forbid a guy wait in line behind Absalom Panic Caravos for some food.

               some  people’s  manners  are  just  AMAZING,  lately.  freddy  wouldn’t  credit  himself  to  being  a  good  christian  boy,  all  glowing  and  golden  and  well-to-do,  but  he’s  got  half  a  nerve  not  to  be  pulling  shit  like  this.  he  bites  his  lip,  scowls  when  he  feels  the  elbow  in  his  chest  and  has  half  a  mind  not  to  do  something  back,  but  gets  himself  under  control.  grins  an  extra-breathy  grin  and  only  takes  the  smallest  of  steps  backwards.  miniscule,  really.  half  a  centimetre  to  the  great  king  before  him.  maybe  he’ll  be  content.

                     ❛ i  really  hope  you  live  up  to  your  word,  man.    

baby starter call 💛

journaliists .

❝ ALRIGHT. I’m just going to ask some basic questions first. stuff like where you live, etcetera. it’s just to get the ball rolling and such. then we can get on to the most interesting topics. ❞ this point of the interview was always the most tedious. she didn’t care for these things, but basic details like that always helped to build the story, no matter how SMALL or insignifigant they might’ve seemed. moira had always prided herself on the depth she put in her stories ( or attempted to, at least ). BUT she was an antsy person, and despite being able to utilize the information later on, it wasn’t what she really wanted to know. she wanted to know the story and the person behind it, not trifling with this and that and ‘ oh what high school did you go to, by the way ? ‘. everyone had the same answers to those questions. 

there was a small sigh, an attempt to refocus her thoughts on the interview. her mind, always energetic, had a tendency to play fastball with itself during interviews, words going faster than they really ought to. a pen clicked. a notebook page flipped to a blank page. date was scribbled in messy shorthand. here we go. ❝ so, first things first. what made you want to become an uncover cop ? ❞ DULL question. they all had the same answer, most of the time filled with some kind of BULLSHIT that they used to either impress girls or prop of their ego. her beat was filled with energy, and yet monotonous all the same. it really was a LOVE - HATE relationship. 

          ❛  i  can’t,  ah.  shouldn’t  give  out  where  i  live.  just,  y’know.  in  case.  but  we’ll  settle  with  local,  i  went  to  burbank. ❜    freddy  hates  the  casualness  he  approaches  the  situation  with.  he  talks  so  breezy.  so  easy.  part  of  that  is  for  the  better,  because  it  means  he  isn’t  hung  up  about  the  past.  not  a  trace  of  stockholm  syndrome  left  in  his  nose.  he’s  settled  on  the  future,  and  his  gold  shield,  and  all  the  convenient  little  in-betweens  that  service  him  as  well  as  he  serviced  his  job.  newandyke  feels  like  he  shouldn’t  answer  questions  about  the  past  or  any  particularly  nostalgic  qualities  ;  should  he  change  his  name,  his  face,  his  history?  maybe  later.  

           newandyke’s  hands  clasp  over  one  another,  composing  himself  and  organising  his  words  before  he  answers  the  next  question.  aims  for  the  stereotypical  story,  the  kind  you  see  in  shoddily-shot  documentaries  and  interviews  on  the  crime  networks.     ❛ i  had,  a  uh.  interest  in  crime.  at  a  younger  age,  i  liked  the  film  noir  movies,  like  orson  welles  and  shit,  especially  serpico,  y’know?      ────      oh,  guess  i  shouldn’t  swear. ❜    he  pauses.  smiles  lightly.  knows  that  she  is  not  getting  any  legitimate  answers  out  of  him  but  maybe  that’s  okay,  maybe  she’s  going  to  start  asking  real  questions  as  they  puruse  along.    ❛ so  i,  took  an  extra  step.  actually  dedicated  to  it.  most  guys  don’t  like  plainclothes  work  but  i’m  not  too  cut  out  to  be  a  blue  boy.  don’t  have  the  face  for  it. ❜  

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outliiar .

             The cop doesn’t talk like a cop and maybe it’s that ethos which made him disregard him so quickly. When he looks at the man, he doesn’t see a cop looking to uphold the law, he sees a punk like himself. He can imagine the man a few years younger kinking in a window and something about that imagine made his chest feel cold. To Simon, it means that either cops are getting better at hiding in plain sight or conformity is more powerful than he considered it. 

             The squeeze on his shoulder causes his head to turn and tilt to meet the man’s gaze. He listens, silent and respectful through the entirety of the speech. Even after the man’s done, he’s silent for a moment. 

             “My dad’s dead.”

             It comes out blunt and easy from practice. Nothing follows it and Simon merely waits for the man’s reaction. 

          he  feels  bad  when  he  hears  it.  almost  wants  to  offer  some  condolences,  but  that  might  involve  digging  into  himself  to  find  a  place  of  EMPATHY.  somewhere  he  didn’t  want  to  shuffle  through  in  the  middle  of  this  nighttime  arrest,  as  he  directs  a  kid  too  dumb  to  even  ask  for  identification  to  the  station  where  he’s  bound  to  spend  a  night  with  genuine  lowlives,  but  oh  well.  oh  well,  freddy  thinks.  you  gotta  do  the  time  you  earn.  it’s  hard  to  have  sympathy  for  the  people  you  bring  in  when  you  know  what  they’re  like  ;  they  spit  and  they  fight  and  they  swear  and  if  they  aren’t  doing  it  right  now  they’ll  do  it  later,  freddy  can’t  acost  to  a  reputation  of  leniency.  he’s  already  a  bit  pathetic  looking,  on  the  scrawny  side.  in  touch  with  reality  and  out  of  touch  with  the  culture  of  policemen.  inherently  civilian.  

          ❛ might  make  that even  worse, ❜    newandyke  mumbles.  probably  shouldn’t  have  said  it,  it’s  a  bit  insensitive,  but  oh  well.  it’s  a  bit  insensitive  to  knock  out  grocery  store  windows,  too.  part  of  him  hopes  he  isn’t  coming  off  as  a  hardass  but  the  other  does.  he  hopes  he’s  very  non-negotiable,  ‘cause  he  is.  he’s  harsher  than  most  of  his  colleagues,  actually.  anyone  lesser  might  not  have  made  the  arrest  in  the  first  place  just  on  the  account  that  they  were  off-duty.