First post, whoo!

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

[There's what seems to be a hobo asleep on a bench, not-so-quietly snoring. Leave him be? Bother him? Push him off? ...Give him 20 bucks?]

Comments

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[And as he has the tendency to do, Adachi just simply blurts out what he's thinking without really...well, thinking about it.]

You have valuables? Like...a shopping cart, or something?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

My shopping cart, newspaper, cardboard box... The essentials.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

Sorry, sir, but that's called littering, and that's against the law too.

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

[Phoenix only looks more amused.]

I know all about the law, officer.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

Really?

Like how to file for unemployment benefits?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

Who said anything about being unemployed?

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

Man, I don't know. They really don't consider bumming a real profession back where I come from.

[And if the thought weren't so acidic, maybe he could've passed it off as just bumbling confusion, with the way he settles his weight back on his heels, scratching his head.]

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

[Phoenix laughs this time, and despite the man's attitude towards him, it's a lighthearted sound.]

I don't think it's a real profession anywhere.

...I think.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

You should go off to your real job, then, sir.

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

...

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

But I'm off today.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[Adachi looks somewhat put out at that, like a kid who has had his toy snatched away (or, more accurately, an adult who has had the fight whipped right out from under his feet). He stares blankly for a moment, trying to hide his frown, and not doing a very good job about it when he doesn't think it matters.]

On a weekday? You some part-timer?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

We haven't gotten much business since there was a murder in the joint.

[Said like nothing at all!]

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[To his credit, he doesn't jolt, because that's too tell-tale, too obvious. He does stiffen, however, the lines of his face drawing tighter.]

A murder? ...What kind of job do you do, pal?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

I'm just a mere piano player these days. Not very good, though.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[The look Adachi gives him is suspicious. Sounds so innocent - he would know. Just happened to be a seedy-looking piano player at the scene of a murder, huh?]

This happen at some bar?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

A restaurant. Borsht Bowl Club.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[It's almost painfully obvious what the look on his face means: Figures that a place with a name like that could only afford to hire some third-rate musician like you. Either Adachi has to learn to hide his thoughts better, or he's learned everything about faking the right ones.]

Guess I don't need three tries to figure out what the specialty of the place is.

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

[It certainly doesn't help when Phoenix has honed his ability to read people. But not being a malicious person in the slightest, he doesn't even feel the need to mention it. He's dealt with the malicious type, and it's not exactly his favorite hobby.]

I'd be impressed if you did.

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

Bad piano music and a side special of murder? You just told me, buddy. I'm not that bad a listener.

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

Hahaha. Well, there is another specialty...

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

Enlighten me.

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

Into card games?

[nowheresman.livejournal.com]

[A pause, and then a frown.]

Is it legal?

[acehobo.livejournal.com]

Only chips involved.