Convenience (Open)

[wolf]

No Smoking. For your convenience there is a designated smoking area located at all entrances.

“Convenience my ass,” Wolf muttered. He stomped through the hall, his foot falls heavy. His intent was to let every pissed off teenager, every run down mother, every screaming child that he passed in the mall's long corridor know how angry he was to have to go all the way across the mall to a 'designated smoking area.'

They made it sound like it was a privilege of some kind to have to hike ten miles in either direction to locate one of these 'designated smoking areas,' like it was a privilege to be stuck outside melting like an ice pop in the sweltering heat.

The young man cupped his hands around the cigarette wedged between his lips and glareed at the sign on the doors with a vengeance. The hot wind tossed pollen and dust around like tiny ninja blades, cutting into sizzling flesh. He is dressed in a pair of worn and faded black denim. His white Horror Pops tee shirt made his light tan seem dark. He wore a pair of black flip flops on his feet and even his toes are tan. Vaughan's hair was cut shorter then his usual, in light of the hot summer.

Most of the mall's patrons hurry into the arctic cool behind the doors.

"Damn it." The comment is directed at the sign on the door.

This is no weather to be a smoker.

[markbrewster]

Mark Brewster watches as the young man trudges over to the designated smoking area and lights up. As Brewster watches, the man curses at the sign on the door. Brewster's lips twitch upward in a hint of a grin and he nods slowly.

Should I do this? he wonders. Is this man the ticket to my freedom?

Probably not. But Brewster likes him. The kid's got spunk.

Mark surveys him, appearing casual to the world but in his appraisal, he is laser-focused. The man is lightly dressed, casual, with no obvious concealed weapons. He has hair that appears to be recently cut, and is fairly tan. Mark senses an aura of pissed-off-ness about the man, and decides to approach him with caution.

Mark wipes a layer of slimy sweat off of his forehead, shakes his hand off, and walks over to the man, heavy black mountain boots thumping heavily on the ground. "Mr. Wolf? My name is Mark Brewster. I've been watching you for some time. And I have a business proposition for you." Brewster smiles. "I think you'll enjoy it."

[wolf]

I think I'll join you

Vaughan lifted his eyes from the sign to the face of this stranger. He evaluated him long enough to make the seconds ticking by seem uncomfortable and excruciatingly slow. Finally he took a half step back from the ash can relinquishing his sole claim on it to make room for this other man.

Vaughan would have liked to have smoked and brewed in his frustration but his fellow smoker chose to speak. And he knew his name? The young man slouched back against the wall and took a pull off of his cigarette before he arched his dark eyebrows and tapped the cigarette against the can to shed extra ash.

A few weeks ago he would have asked how this man knew his name but something had changed in him. He was calmer now, collected. He didn't feel the heart racing, palm sweating panic or any of the effects that a man 'following you for some time' should elicit. Instead he said, "And what is your proposition?"

With each exhale of a word a gray curl of smoke curled from his lips and blew towards the man in which he spoke.

[markbrewster]

"And what is your proposition?

The guy was dangerous. Mark drew a slow breath, calming himself. The last thing he wanted to do was get in a fight right now. But the man seemed to be cool. He was in control. Mark flipped his hand over casually, showing the open palm. A symbol of trust.

"I'm in need of a little project. Inside that building is a man with a black duffel bag. I need that bag. It's no danger to yourself, and law enforcement's cleared out of the building. But I can't go inside." He paused. "I need you to go in and get it. Then bring it back here. I do have a bit of money for the offer." He drew a clip of hundred-dollar-bills from his pocket. "If you don't ask how I got these, I can pay you an easy thousand."

[wolf]

Wolf watched the man take a breath, he eyed the rise and fall of his chest beneath his clothes. When the man flipped his hand over, Vaughan scowled at him. What did this guy think he was, a dog? Did he expect him to sniff his hand?

Vaughan listened to the 'proposition,' dragging on his cigarette a few puffs for the durations. He asked no questions and did not interrupt until the other man was done speaking. "A duffel bag?" he asked, when the other finished. The skepticism was thick in his voice. He watched the other man unfold some bills and he raised his eyebrows. He did need money. But this whole thing just sounded shady.

"Whats in the bag?" he asked. He flicked more ash off of the end of his cancer stick and then contemplated the burning end while the other questions stirred in his mind. "Where did the enforcement go and why did they leave?" He eyed the money again.

He squinted one eye suspiciously at the other and leaned towards him. "Whats to keep you from going into the building and gettin' it yourself."

[markbrewster]

Brewster was nervous. Really nervous. His heart was pounding a million miles an hour and he could barely breathe. This man was not taking well to his offer.

"What's in the bag?" Of course, Mark couldn't answer. "Where did the enforcement go and why did they leave? Whats to keep you from going into the building and gettin' it yourself."

Brewster blinked and bit his lower lip. Suddenly, the police officer part of his mind snapped into control and he was laser-focused again. "Is that important? I assure you that no harm will come to you." He paused. "As for me... My ex-wife is inside. I can't go in there. She's looney enough to take a swing at me, and I just don't feel like putting myself through that."

He pointed to a window on the wall facing them. "There's a man in there, huge, name's Bob. He's got the duffel bag. All you have to do is go in, ask him for it, and bring it back. And I'll give you a thousand dollars."

[wolf]

Curiouser and Curiouser.

"I should say it's fairly important." He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking on a very wolfish appearance. The young man took a last draw on his cigarette before he pushed off the wall and started walking towards the stranger. He flicked his cigarette butt into the ash can as he came to a stop only a few breaths away from the other. He stood so close that if he had fancied, Vaughan could have leaned forward and licked him on the nose.

"You see," he began, his voice lowered so that only they could hear, and even then the other might have had to strain to hear him, "lets say that in your bag is a smidge of, say, cocaine? Or perhaps stolen goods?" He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

Vaughan followed the direction the man pointed in with his dark eyes. "And what," he asked slowly, obviously insisting on an answer "is in Bob's duffel bag?"

You see, he could really use the money but...well...curiosity killed the cat. Whose to say the same doesn't go for men?

[markbrewster]

"And what, is in Bob's duffel bag?"

Mark paused. Then he raised his head and looked Wolf straight in the eyes, not stepping back or even blinking. "There's multiple items in there. Two are, technically, stolen property. Although, the "rightful owner" did not, in fact, legitimately have claim over them. These items are a circular metal ring, 1 foot in diameter, and a small crystal. They are my property, were stolen from me years ago. I have now reacquired them. The other contents of the bag are files: blueprints and records mainly. That's all without-a-doubt legal."

Mark paused. "Now that I've told you, are you willing to save me from the wrath of my ex-wife?"

He flicked his eyes nervously toward the window on the wall.

[wolf]

Although his questions were now answered, the answers seemed to open more questions then they provided answer to begin with.

What were the ring and crystal? What were the blueprints of and was it legal? The records? He said they were legal but how much was his word worth? A couple thousand dollars?

Probably not, Vaughan decided.

But you really needed that money, a little voice whispered through his mind. School was paid for, and so was his dorm room, but a man still needed to eat. He held out his hand and they were standing so close that his fingers brushed the others shirt.

"I'll take your...proposition with conditions." His breath smelled of menthol and cigarette. "I want the money first. If I get into any kind of trouble I won't hesitate to point fingers straight out here at you." He had more questions but he squelched them. Not because curiosity killed the cat. No, he did not ask because he needed the money more then he needed to know. Besides, what you don't know can't hurt you.

[markbrewster]

"I'll take your... proposition with conditions."

YES, Mark thought. Sold.

"I want the money first." No. What if he rabbits? "I'll give you half up front." Bob could see him, and would stop Wolf if he tried to run. "Then the other half when you bring the bag out."

The man's breath stunk. Mark twitched at the stench but resisted the urge to move backwards. "If I get in any kind of trouble I won't hesitate to point fingers straight out here at you."

Mark smiled. "Don't worry. You won't run into any trouble. But regardless, that's fair enough. Now, are we gonna stand around here all day, or are you going to go get my duffel bag?"

[wolf]

Vaughan nodded in agreement to half of the money up front and half of the money when he returned, knowing that it was the best he would get. He had expected as much. The man didn't seem stupid, just sneaky.

When Vaughan had collected his first half of the money, he turned on his heels and entered the mall. Before making his way over to Bob, Vaughan stopped by the public restroom. When he exited the restroom he had a paper towel in his hand. He may be needy for money but he wasn't stupid either. Just in case he was getting himself into the middle of something iffy he would not put his finger prints all over the mess. A paper towel would be enough to keep him clean from the bag.

Vaughan searched for the man, retrieved the bag, and then made his way back out to the stranger. Yet, when he got to the man, he did not hand over the bag. Instead, he placed it behind his heels against the wall, dug in his pocket for another cigarette, and lit it up.

I've been watching you for some time.

"Why were you watching me?" Obviously he did not intend to hand over the bag yet.

[markbrewster]

"Why were you watching me?"

Inwardly, Mark groaned. He'd expected the man to question him like this, but hoped it wouldn't actually happen. And of COURSE he didn't have his NYPD forged badge. All he had was the gun, and he couldn't risk attacking the man. And obviously, he didn't need the bag immediately. He could afford to be patient.

"I needed someone to help me get the bag. It was in the mall and obviously I couldn't just walk in." Mark shifted his weight to his left leg. "You looked like someone who might help."

He looked at Wolf. "Any more questions?"

[wolf]

Wolf squinted at him suspiciously and blew smoke through his nose as he evaluated the answer.

Liar, a voice inside whispered. He frowned.

A few months younger and a few years more innocent and Vaughan would have simply believed what was being told to him but something scratched at the back of his mind, something more mature, more confrontational, caused conflict within and he simply didn't believe the weak answer he was given.

"Yeah, one more," he puffed again, blew again. "Whats your name?"

[markbrewster]

The man looked at him suspiciously. Oh well... he had told the truth, after all, even if it had been vague. The man frowned, and asked, "Yeah, one more, what's your name?"

Mark flicked his lips upwards into a smile, tainted with just a bit of foreboding feeling. He bore down slightly with his eyebrows, stared Wolf in the eyes, and said calmly, "Mark Brewster." He cocked an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you."

[wolf]

Vaughan nodded. "Mark Brewster," he repeated, committing the name to memory. Something told him that he might use that later down the road. Any name connected to a wad of one hundred dollar bills was useful.

Vaughan toed the bag away from the wall, pushing it towards Mark. "I hope whatever is in the bag was worth the money," he commented, holding out his hand to collect the other half of the money he was promised for the small task.