(2018-11-26) The A-Team.... and Lonnie
Alex goes to see August, ends up meeting Anthony and reuniting with Lonnie.
Players:
august..anthony..lonnie..alex..

The sun is setting on what could be considered a downright balmy day. The glare of the setting sun reflects off of the fallen snow, washing everything in a pale yellow light. Alex makes his way into the small parking lot, parking his Harley before pulling off his helmet and sunglasses. He kicks the old loose snow off of his boots before making his way into the shop, hearing the tell-tale chime of the opened door as he enters.

Inside The Mad Tatter, business has hit a brief lull, though earlier quite a few people dropped in to have a little ink done. In the back, one of the booths is curtained off—Ben's again. No giggling tonight, though.

Up near the front, a heavily tattooed woman sprays down a portable padded table with disinfectant, wiping it down thoroughly. August Lexington's long hair is dyed in a grey ombre, though it's currently pulled up and piled in a messy up-do. She finishes with a quick dry-towel down of the table, then chucks that into the bin, followed by a pair of black latex-free gloves. She glances up at the chime of the door, stowing a spray bottle in a nearby rack, and meanders up toward the front counter, stilettos demanding a slow gait.

"Alejandro," the tattooer says, "Welcome back." She moves along the counter and stops just on the customer side, near the portfolios and a stack of screenprinted t-shirts that read EAT ME in fanciful letters.

The remnants of the already fallen snow crunched beneath the wheels of a prestine gunmetal grey forerunner that pulled into the parking lot and backed into a parking spot. The figure that climbed out looked as out of place as an iceburg in the heart of a volcano, and the faint click of his wingtip leather shoes as he strode toward the entrance of The Mad Tatter parlor only served to accent that point. The traditional jingle of the entryway being tugged open filled the air as Anthony entered the shop. His dress pegged him as someone who had no business leaving the Birchwood Estates private community, or perhaps the Italian Affair, in a chocolate brown tartan sports coat, a cashmere turtleneck and a pair of pleated dress pants. His posture was upright and confident, and he stopped just inside the door to adjust the solid black Raybans over his eyes to hug the immaculate part of coal-black hair atop his head.

"I'm lookin' for Emergency Ink, I's heard it was a real shit hole of'a fuckin' pa'la in Brooklyn, some crazy fuckin' broad down there slingin' ink all ov'a the place, some real amateur stuff, ya'know" were the words that came out of Tony's mouth, and they would have been in a charming, well spoken bassline if it wasn't for the way he so eloquently obliterated that possibility by the brutish way he chopped up the English language with an accent that pinned him from somewhere deep in the heart of New York. Pale green eyes glanced over the shopfront, and his dour demeanor flashed into a vibrant and devillish smile, "Or, I mean, t'is place could work, I s'pose…"

Alex nods to the woman behind the counter. "Hey Auggie." He says as he walks up. "I'd've brought you coffee but I haven't learned how you take it yet." He says with a wink. "Nor how you like your eggs." Any other form of wise-crackery or flirting stops as soon as the suit walks in. A brow is raised at the accent and the obscenities, and Alex decides to just lean against the counter and watch the exchange.

It seems the interior of the shop has managed to maintain a comfortable temperature, even when most of the staff goes sleeveless, at the very least, showing off a lot of ink. Best advertisement in the house. The heaters compensate pretty well for the gusts of colder air that blow in every time the door opens. Classic rock pipes through the sound system, but the next song shifts bluesy with a Lucinda Williams track.

"Well," August replies, "I can tell you I don't like my eggs in coffee." She smiles and steps in to give Alex's shoulder a squeeze, "Extra cream and just a little bit of sweet, sweet…" where ever else that sentence was going is a mystery, because she trails off with the door jingles open again, and a blustery piece of overdressed New Yorker busts in with all that personality. "Hm."

"We talked about this." Auggie clips, stepping over to intercept Anthony before he can make his way too far into the shop, like maybe she's going to have to bounce him right back out. Then she says, "Just because it's full of hipsters doesn't make Emergency a shithole." She raises a fist, and taps Anthony's chin twice with a light touch, unless he moves, of course. "If I ever have kids, their college is paid for thanks to that shithole." She opens that hand, then, palm up. "Pony up, Malone." Her brows rise. "Swear jar."

The woman glances over her shoulder, saying to Alex, "New York." As if that explains everything that just went down. She nods to Anthony. "Alejandro, Tony. Tony, Alex."

"Oh, I dunno' about t'at, I'd say it's a strong case fa' bein' a shithole on 'at account…" Tony retorted to her mention of the Emergency being filled with hipsters. Her fists were met with a raise of his own, half-assed and about half-mast of what an actual boxer would adapt, a few shuffles of overpriced leather shoes and her right hook connects with his chin which he overexaggerated with with a loud "OOmmph, kiddo, you'se gonna' be on an' old man like 'at an' then make me pay ya's? I knew you was the real leg break'a aroun' here" he grinned, flashing a quick wink of his green eyes toward August as he regained his posture.

Jokes aside - she still had her hand out, and Tony sighed as he withdrew a thick foldover of crisp bills from his pocket and snatched the thick silver metallic clasp that bound them together, "Fiiinnne, fiinne…" he muttered, tugging a single hundred dollar bill and shoving it into her palm, "Wit' interest, cause you'se know I'ma fuck it all up again" he explained and re-deposited his cash back into his slacks. At the introduction, he raised his left hand in a motionless wave, "Ey' Alex, how's it goin' - Tony Malone, and yeah, yeah, New York, like it fuckin' explains everythin' " he smirked, shaking his head.

Alex sees Auggie's reaction to the man's entrance and he perks up right quick. No longer leaning, but rail-straight with a hand hovering over the holster at his waist. Once he gets the all-clear from Auggie, he breathes a sigh of relief and leans back. "Well met." The man says with a bit of a Californian Hispanic accent. "Is… everything alright?" Is how he asks for clarification, because if he really thought it wasn't, stances would be different right now.

August rolls up the crisp bill and tucks it away into the little watch pocket of her jeans. She shakes her head with a soft smile. "You deserve everything coming to you, Tony, an' you know it." She laughs, ushering him further into the shop. "Good to see you still kickin', old man." Because 42 is ancient, right?

Auggie returns to her position leaning against the counter, though she returns to lean near Alejandro, perhaps accidentally on the side opposite his gun hand. "We're good. Tony's an acquired taste, but he makes good on his debts. Stopped in the shop a few times up in Brooklyn for some ink." She hmms. "Least I think it was ink most of the time." She grins and slides her hand along the counter, nails clicking lightly. "Alejandro, I looked up the garage you told me about. I think I'll go ahead and bring in my baby, see if y'all can fix her up right. Or can I give you the key for sometime later? She's parked out back."

In the back, the machine that was buzzing paused behind the curtain, but resumes again after a few moments. Apparently everyone's making their decisions on how to receive Tony's particular brand of hi-howya-doin'.

"Generally speaking…" Tony pursed his lips and nodded at the notion that his business at her former tattoo salon was indeed usually for ink. He steps in a few more paces to find himself the comfort of one of the oversized chairs, green eyes glancing toward Alejandro, "No need ta' plug the new guy" he commented with a nonchalant wave of his hand as he kicked one leg out into the floor, rocking it back and forth on the rigid heel of his shoe revealing the obnoxiously stereotypical argyle patterened dress socks. His posture was casual and he slumped to one side, propping his elbow along the armrest and knuckles against his jaw, "So What'sa rub there, Alex? You an artist here too?"

Alex nods as August explains, relaxes a little bit more but still stays vigilant. When she talks about her car, he shrugs. "It's all on what you're comfortable with. If you trust me driving her, I can collect her. If not, you're more than welcome to bring her by. It's just bodywork right? No need for a tow?"

He turns to Tony and shrugs, shaking his head. "Ah no. Nothing so skillful. I'm a mechanic. Auggie here thought she could drive a vintage piece of beauty through Colorado snow and well… Mother Nature won. What about you? You looking for some new work or visiting an old friend?" he also holds his hands up defensively to show the man that he has no intentions on shooting him once Auggie verifies him as a 'good guy'.

August stands at the counter next to Alex, both on the customer side, a stack of screenprinted tees between them (EAT ME is lettered on the fronts). Anthony has recently taken up a seat in one of the overside chairs, and the three seem to be holding a conversation of some kind.

"Just a little body work. She still drives just fine." Auggie hooks an elbow on the counter, affecting a relaxed posture, stiletto'd feet crossed at the ankle. One can infer she's taking as much weight off of her heels as possible since it's unlikely those shoes are super comfy. "I'd argue a mechanic is one of the most skilled professions around." Of course she's going to. Her daddy was a mechanic." She smiles at the mention of her driving. "In my defense, a patch of black ice got me. I'm usually a very good driver." May or may not be a tiny fib, that. "Snow bank softened the stop." She touches Alex's elbow only briefly, "I'll get you the key in a little bit."

"Sounds about right" Tony commented toward Alex's explanation of what occured, curling one side of his firm lips up and into the taut skin of his cheek, "Jus' a lil' body work? Auggie, classics 'a made of fuckin' steel, if twistin'a trut' was an Olympic sport you'd be on'a podium right now" he laughed, a low sort of thing as he shook his head, mimicing Alex's raised hand gesture and nodding his head in a mutual understanding. "My pop was a mechanic, ain' nothin' easy about turnin' a wrench…" he trails, scratching his fingertips backward against the grain of his five-o-clock shadow, "I'm here on business, I'm lookin' to invest a significant weight of financial backin' to the right opportunity. As it stands…" he squinted his green eyes in thought, "I'm sponsorin' a fundraiser for the homeless shelter by matchin' all ticket sales in a donation, aaaaaand…" he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Th'as about it f'right now, actually… though somethin' tells me I'ma wind up fuckin' about wit' the Winchester at some point, too"

Alex nods as he listens to August and then grins. "Hey, I'm not criticizing your driving skills. It's this climate. I hate to admit it but I think I need to store Angel for the winter and get myself a pickup or something to beat around in. I'm not used to having a disruption in a decent driving season." He nods to her at the mention of the key. "No rush, Bonita." He nods to Tony as he listens. "Financial backing." He nods slowly, understanding. He's dealt with the type back in LA. He doesn't offer anything, but more specifically since he doesn't have anything going that needs that sort of 'investor' just yet. But… "A fundraiser? Isn't that a bit out of the wheelhouse of.. well…" He indicates Tony's persona, totally taking him as a member of the Mafia.

After a few moments, an oil-stained and very grubby looking Lonnie steps into the shop. He loiters near the doorway, in perhaps the worlds least inconspicuous attempt at lurking, what with his size and the biker shit hes wearing and the red woolen cap on his head. Points for trying though, hes managing something approaching politeness, staying at the periphery as if following long learned lessons about not scaring the squares.
That all being said, he does try to catch Alex's eye.

August smirks faintly at Anthony's commentary regarding her driving history, and habitual tendency toward needing a little body work on her vintage wheels. She valiantly attempts to keep that smirk from showing, thus implicating her in multiple crimes against exceptionally sexy vehicles. It's a damn good thing her Nomad is nigh indestructible.

"We're doing a kids charity fundraiser Saturday," August says. "Artist who brings in the most cash picks. $40 mini tattoos. Tis the season." She nods to a sheet posted up on the counter with full color renderings of the select mini designs on offer for the event. It's propped up in a gilded kickstand frame.

"That's a shame about the bike, but you're braver than I am to even try it in this cold, let alone the snow and ice." It's not hard to note she's having some thoughts about choosing Colorado as fall turns to winter. Best timing ever, Auggie. "I'm still working on finding a studio with substantial central heating and garage access. In a perfect world, to rent. I didn't come here with the intention of buying property." It's a hard comedown, moving from Florida, with a three bay, full service garage and studio at her fingertips to Colorado, where everything is frozen and cold. She glances over as the door opens again, and a large side of Lonnie wanders in. "Come on in. Don't be shy." That's her greeting for the lurking, capped biker. "Good hat."

The words of Alex are attended to by Tony's eyes, lending him his full attention, and when he mentioned with vagueness, being out of 'your wheelhouse' the cockeyed grin that grew across Anthony's face was borderline comical. "Not really. Makin' sure kids and low'a income families got plenty'a stuff around'a neighborhood ain' nothin' new - Helps integrate you'se to your locals, y'know? Let's everyone know you'se a man'a the people…" he took this opportunity to flourish his hands toward his chest, "Which, of course, I am, seein' as how Calaveras is my new home" he explained as he returned his hands to lazily drape along the armrests.

At the familiar jingle of bells, he glanced toward Lonnie as he entered, "Afta'noon big guy" he commented and turned his eyes toward August, "Ya'know, there's a'lotta property aroun' here, I'm lookin' ta' buy a house out in Oak Ridge, but I can have my guy keep a lookout for a place 'at could sport some serious room, y'know? If that's somethin' you'se interested in"

Alex nods and listens. "Shit, if my brother's ranch wasn't still considered a crime scene, I'd rent you a spot there. Let me check with the authorities. They may've released it by now." he shrugs. "I'm sure there's a barn or something, and I'm no rancher so I'll have to sell off the animals." he waves any other thought of it away since it has no real pertinence to the conversation. He nods about the fundraiser. "I'll have to stop by.. do something charitable." As she mentions buying property, he raises an eye. "You ran away from something in a hurry but once you stopped here you realized that this might just work out, si?" He points to the Nomad patch on his kutte. "Yeah… same here." When Auggie speaks to yet another visitor, he raises a brow and looks over…

He stands up straight and stares at the man. "You've got a lot of guts coming here… after what you've pulled…" He stalks over to the large guy and sets up to slug him, before smiling and putting out a hand for clasp. "What the fuck are you doing out here, Pito?!" He laughs, smiling

"S'cold out," mumbles Lonnie, seemingly not giving August a once over until hes answered her (because he breaks out a wolfish smile once hes done that, natch), but then Alex is on him and he has half a moment to react…

"Man, I had no idea she was your mom!" being what Lonnie comes up with, before he takes the offered hand and pulls his brother-from-another-mother-who-might-lack-moral-fibre into a massive bearhug, "Shit, brother! I was lookin' for you!" he says, laughing and grinning away.
"You an I, we're to be pioneers," he says, shooting August another glance, "Though, if shes your ol' lady here man, nice work."

"When I had to leave Jacksonville, I kept my daddy's shop and gave the guys stake in the business. They do what they do, I just keep it going, but they're a tight group, and none of the stock is alive. Easier to deal with wheels than cattle." August says. She doesn't inquire further as to the disposition of Alex's brother, she watches his face for a moment, before her gaze flicks back to Anthony. "It's way too cold go view properties." Yes, she spent some time in New York too, but there's a reason she lived above the tattoo shop there. No going outside in winter unless absolutely necessary.

Auggie looks to Alex again as he reacts to Lonnie's appearance. Now it's her turn to straighten a little, though her hand slides across the counter toward the back. She stops just shy of grabbing something, slips her hand back, and picks up a pen instead. A black pen with a little silver skull topper capped to the end. She scribbles something in a huge book laid out on the counter, writing upside down.

It's Lonnie's comment about 'your old lady here.' She shakes her head, that grin flashing teeth again. "Haven't decided on if I'm staying past my six weeks' guest yet, but thinking maybe." She glances out the huge front window. At least it's not snowing today.

Alex looks to Lonnie. "No shit? When did you finish your bid in Chino? I spoke to the MC about branching out possibly. I guess this is their way of giving me the green-light." At the mention of August being his 'old lady', he punches Lonnie in the shoulder and gives him a serious look. "She's not my old lady but don't disrespect her, Tiny." He then turns to make introductions. "This fine piece of canvas is Auggie. She's got a keen eye for vehicles, though I'm guessing not so keen when it comes to acquaintances." He says with a wink. He turns to Anthony.. "This gentleman is Tony. I guess we're supposed to make some big deal about him Being from New York." he then puts a thumb against his nose as if that's supposed to indicate the kind of organization that Tony belongs to. "Folks, this is Lonnie, my club Brother from back in LA. A good sergeant-at-arms and a pretty swell guy in general."

"Nice colors" Anthony chimed toward Alex as he displayed his nomad rocker with a little explanation, "I mean, I intended ta' come here, this town blows up in'a tourist season, you got somethin' small time durin'the summer, and suddenly you can shove it down fifty t'ousand peoples t'roats come winter…" he commented, rolling a shoulder with a shrug, "Perfect place to do some investin' " he added and glanced toward August, "Were you always this soft? I don't rememba' you bein' such a girl about t'ings - you know they make coats?" he trailed, using his hands to animate out from his chest, "Big fuckin' coats fulla down an' shit, keeps you all fuckin' toasty an' warm even on like Mount Everest an' shit, an' I'm overe 'ere offerin' ta' look for property an you'se talkin' about it bein' too cold…marrone" he laughs, that last word getting and accented hand gesture of unknown origin or intent, though it seemed to make sense to Tony.

"Chino, I 'ear that place is no joke. I've neva' been out 'at way myself, but I hear stories" Anthony commented, looking over Lonnie and Alex with a smirk, glancing towad August a the mention of old lady, "I dunno, I mean look 'at her, she's clearly destined ta' be an ol' lady.."

"Word, boss," replies the oversized thug as he gets punched in the shoulder, "Think they sent me to help because'a the shit with-" but then Lonnie trails off, as if only just now remembering hes in mixed company as the introductions begin.

"Ma'am," he mumbles to Auggie, looking at his feet for a moment and then holding one of his ham-hock hands to shake, "Sorry 'bout assumin', made an ass out of me and mine."
He cocks an eyebrow at Tony, "Man, all sortsa fa- folks, all sortsa folks from New York, its a big city," Lonnie continues, grinning playfully as he notes the hand gesture, "Hear lots of good things bout garbage management out there though, lots of good union work." Yeah, Lonnie, lets not upset the possible mafioso. "Far be it from me to agree with coverin' up that .. artwork, but I've a jacket in my pack if you're cold, ma'am."

August's silvery eyes turn to Alex and Lonnie, and she watches the exchange. Bid in Chino. She's about to say something when Alex turns her way and refers to her fine canvas like so. She laughs and extends a hand to the cap-wearing Lonnie. "It's true. I have terrible taste in friends, so you've come to the right place." Her hands are tattooed right down to her fingers, which are tipped in pointed nails, varnished high-gloss black with silvery tips. For looks or fighting? Either way, those nails look a little bit dangerous.

It's true. Some of her street cred is stripped when it comes to Colorado's altitude and climate. August shoots Tony a look, "Yeah, they make coats, but I wear a coat and it covers up all the best things about me." She means her tattoos, of course. "Have you ever tried to walk on ice in these shoes?" If Tony has, that would probably be worth seeing. "I had to call a friend from Siberia to ask for survival tips." Yeah, she could wear flat soled shoes. No she isn't going to. "But maybe I'll take that swear jar and invest in some fluffy faux fur." The f-bomb is implied, but there's that swear jar to think about.

"Cold climates have made ladies curl up with shaggy beasts before." Auggie takes Lonnie's hand in her own. Her grid is solid, shake firm. She holds on for a moment to say, "Apology accepted, Lon." One may notice she calls folks what she wants regardless of how they introduce themselves, so long as it isn't too offensive. "I'm fine for just now, but you're sweet to offer."

Alex nods and listens to Anthony. "It does make sense. Come in small, make them dependent on you. Come up with a marketing gimmick that'll rake in the money from the snow-bunnies and 'Todds' of the world." He stops short, though, at the last thing Anthony says.. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Yeah, no longer joking. "Don't fucking talk to her like that."

He holds up a finger to Lonnie to remind him to not talk about club business in public. He then watches Lonnie interact with everyone as Alex stands there quietly fuming.
Lonnie has partially disconnected.

"We're very efficient about waste disposal, it's true" Anthony replied toward Lonnie with a slick little smirk at one edge of his lips, "An' there is a'lotta fuckin' trash where I come from" he adds soon after, and as August goes on about the cold and calling people from Siberia, Tony parted his lips to reply to her before being cut off at the legs by Alex's tone.

One may have a different expectation of how a man like Anthony would react to suddenly being loudly accosted by a colors wearing hispanic biker, though in truth it was quite calmly. A single dark eyebrow twitched upward at Alex, and he raised his left hand from draping along the chair arm, extending his index finger with a slight shake to-and-fro in the common sign for 'no' and he shook his head, "No. You'se upset cause'a what you'se think I jus' said, but t'ats not what I said. This is jus' our two worlds contrastin' eachotha' - she's young enough ta' be my daughta' I wouldn' disrespect someone I have respect for like that" he clarifies, his tone low and inflected in a neutral intent, "There is no beef ta' fry here between you and I" he smiled then, a casual, easy thing and he dropped his left hand to drape along the armrest again, crossing his right leg over his left knee. "Let's go back to gettin' along"

Despite himself, the crack about the shaggy beasts brings the ghost of a blush to Lonnie's cheeks and he only just barely avoids an 'oh shucks'. Turns out his little vacation in Chino hasn't helped his game a bit. Still, his oversized mitt is as gentle as can be when it carefully shakes Auggie's hand, breaking the shake reluctantly and slowly.

Its almost a shame that the waves of anger and the raised finger from his brother-in-arms causes such a change to come over the big lug, really. The gentle giant loveable bear act dropping in an instant to be replaced by the world's fakest grin, the sort of grin where, if any bears are involved, they're barely held back behind the teeth, to stretch a metaphor.

"Obviously, bossman, hes meaning to say that given how shes dressed and the affect she carries herself with means that shes exactly the calibre of woman he expects our fine harley-ridin' brethen to achieve," apparently there was a prison library that contained at least one dictionary and/or thesaurus, "And he didn't mean nothing bad by that insinuation because he greatly admires those of us with leathers."

"Ain't that right?"

August's posture remains fairly relaxed despite the moment of bristling, when Alex defends her honor at the somewhat offhand comment Anthony's made. Potential violence doesn't seem to phase her, but drop an f-bomb? Swear jar. Those moon-colored eyes are watchful, no matter how casual the rest of her.

In the back, a tattoo machine continues to hum along in that curtained booth. Clearly somebody back there is getting some serious ink.

Auggie's hands drop to her hips and she watches Lonnie go to work up a gloriously on point bit of translation regarding 1) her esteemed character, and 2) much admiration for men in leathers. "Nicely stated, sir." Chino must have one of those really good prison book circulations. God bless librarians. Auggie's gaze finds Alejandro, and she waits to see how he's going to take all of… that.

Alex listens to Anthony and calms a bit. "I apologize. I wasn't trying to get something going, but I'm not about to let anyone disrespect a lady." He nods, backing up to the counter for the moment. He looks over to Lonnie with a questioning look. "When the fuck did you swallow a dictionary?" He smiles a bit before turning to August. "I've gotta head off, Bonita. I'll swing by later for that key, alright? Don't worry. She'll be in good hands."

"No harm done" Anthony replied toward Alex and glanced his pale green eyes toward Lonnie with his display of what was, quite frankly, an excellent breakdown and diffusal effort of a potentially hostile situation, "Yeah, somethin' like that" Tony commented and rolled a soft chuckle from his stomach as he gathered himself to stand with a lengthy exhale from his lips, "Take care, Alex. I'm sure we'll catch each'otha aroun' town" he commented as Alex said his goodbyes, and was offered a motionless wave of one of his hands while approaching the counter to look at the framed $40 tatoo flashcard.

Trying to behave in Chino lead Lonnie to a life of reading, Jesus and quiet contemplation- would be a barefaced lie, other than the bit about reading. "Didn't swallow none, nor did I make anyone swallow anything, no matter what you hear," Lonnie says, laughing and shooting Alex a salute as he departs, "I'll leave my number here with August, she'll pass it on with the keys, right? Take it easy, bro."

Then, situation averted, Lonnie looks back at August, "You fix shitty prison tattoos?"

There's a bit of a pause from Auggie before she nods. "If I didn't trust that you're good with your hands, Alejandro, I wouldn't offer you a key, hm? I'm here 'till one tonight, all day tomorrow and Wednesday." She can't help but send the nomad off with a little bit of that sass before she says, "Swear jar, babe." F-bombs dropping everywhere. As happens.

"Malone. I have a feeling you might find some friends in town. Might be a little too New York up front, but folks'll get used to it." She smiles, a little twinkle in her eye. Or they'll shoot you seems to be an unspoken addendum. But this lady's too sweet to say that out loud, right?

To Lonnie, she replies, "Yeah, I've covered a sea of prison flavored delights in my time. You need it done, I'll do it gently." It's a trap. It's always a trap when they say that sort of thing. She nods, too, probably an acknowledgement of the number-with-keys thing. "You wanna show it to me, provided it's in a place mixed company won't mind, and I'll start my wheels turning on ideas?"

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