(no subject)

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

Can't go home, not with an envelope full of money from Scarface.

So, Floyd called home, leaving an answering machine message for Zoe, instructing her to take a twenty from the desk drawer stash, and order pizza, that he was working late.

He roamed aimlessly for a bit, working it all out in his head. He'd made a promise, not to take any more killing gigs. And yet, there he'd been, doing exactly what he'd promised not to, taking a job from that lunatic Wesker of all people.

When you deal with crazy, you roll the dice each and every time. He had a reason to stay alive, now. A teenage daughter who was actually pretty good with numbers, could draw, and had an unfortunate (for Floyd) fascination with the music of Justin Timberlake.

He'd been letting his feet guide him, the envelope with the thirty thousand in his inner-coat pocket. Twice during his roaming, fellow Gothamites had reached out, catching his arm, and stopped him from wandering into the path of oncoming traffic.

There were three options, after all. Four, technically, but Floyd Lawton was no rat. So that was out.

Huntress. He could call her. Pass the word along to the Bats. But wouldn't that be ratting Ventriloquist out, just as sure as calling anyone at One Police Plaza?

No. Couldn't. Besides, she'd see him with Arnold's money, and think he intended to do this thing, to smoke the goombah he'd been sent after. She'd probably smack him around, and drop him right back into a cell where Waller could find him, and take him away from Zoe.

Only one real option, then.

He made his way to a nearby payphone. Thank God Gotham still valued it's privacy, and there were actual booths still sprinkled about here and there. He slid the door shut, and dropped two quarters into the slot.

Dent.

He'd know how best to handle this.

Comments

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

The private line rings. The cell phone he doesn't tell anyone about. The one that's not under his name. When it rings, his eyes shift.

Trying to get around Eddie Muns' not-guilty plea has been headache enough... he'd almost managed to forget his proposition to Lawton.

Immediately, a thought pops into his head that he really shouldn't be thinking. Lawton could solve this problem by tomorrow.

It takes him a moment of hesitation, but he knows the guy won't leave a voice mail.

"It's been a while." No need for names or pleasantries.

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"Counselor," he said, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette. "How secure's this line? I just came out of a meeting with one of our old housing associates. Offered me some work. Thought maybe you and I should discuss what to do about that."

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

"It's secure."

Especially after the Bat paid his visit.

"Thought you were S&N these days."

On the Straight & Narrow.

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"Am," he replied mildly, "But if I didn't take the commission, someone else would. This way, I make a payday, and the target might make it out the other side of this week. You following me here?"

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

"Clearly. Although the associates rarely react well to a job left undone."

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"I got no problem dropping them if they try and come after me. That's all justified, yeah? Self-defense and all."

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

...

"The case could be made, yes. Leaving the job undone intentionally could look good, too. Payment in advance, then? Which particular associate?"

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"It's entirely possible I may need a place for my daughter and I to lie low for a few days. You have a safehouse? More importantly, one that no one in Arkham would know about?"

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

Avoiding the question - probably best not to name names anyway. Plausible deniability and all.

The Arkham reference doesn't bode well, though.

"I haven't had need for safehouses since..." he starts, but trails off. The sound of drawers sliding and papers ruffling.

"How close by do you need it to be?"

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"If I'm gonna do this, it's gotta be a big enough place that my kid and me have a little room. She's a teenager, Harv. Probably doesn't want her old man crowding her too hard, after all."

He stood there, eyes watching the street, puffing on his cigarette, thinking.

"You think it'd be good to get out of Gotham while all this goes down? Or should I just take him down myself?"

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

"You know how territorial the associates get. The further from Gotham, the better chance you have of avoiding them," he responds.

"I have a loft in Metropolis, two bedrooms. Low-key, you should fly under Blue's radar, and Ears hates the city and will be reluctant if you get sloppy and draw his attention with whatever it is you're doing."

"But I've never known you to get sloppy."

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"First time for everything," he thought, remembering snapping under the pressures his family had put upon him, once upon a time. Trying to go out in a blaze of glory, saving Richard Rogers Flagg.

He slid the telephone booth's door open three inches, and flicked his cigarette out into the street, watching as it vanished under the tread of some fat man in a bad business suit.

"I'll take it. When can I pick up the keys?"

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

*sigh*

"Behind the 7-11 on 23rd and Huber. You'll find them."

Ask him.

"Might have a job for you in the near future."

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"One good turn and all that. Ask, and you've got it, Counsellor." He glanced up, swinging the door shut again as the elevated train passed overhead. "I pay my favors back."

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

He's not proud of the thought.

"Good. It's not definite, but it should be easy work. I'll let you know."

Do it now. Get it over with.
Shut up.

"The loft is under the name Joseph Jansen."

[wrist-magnum.livejournal.com]

"I'll meet up with you at your earliest convenience, then. Soonest begun, soonest done. That's what my therapist used to say, anyway."

[bigbadharv.livejournal.com]

"My earliest convenience will be after this is done and you've gotten to the safehouse. You should be able to find the keys on your own, if you're clever enough. They've been hidden there for two years."

A beat.

"Call me if there's trouble."