cw: power gaps/maturity gap/dynamic? not a relationship but to be safe
Paint and things covering the face? Now that he thinks about it, he can’t quite recall the man’s if he tried— he knows he’d recognize him if he saw him, he knows the details, but when he tries to imagine him, he just gets mad. He starts running his nails along the inside of his sleeves, rolling his neck to one side to refocus.
Besides that, he likes the way Vincent talks. It’s nerdy as fuck, got the air of a know-it-all, but awkward and authentic at the same time, more like a knows-a-little. It makes him think of how detective’s assistants talk in shows, real ponderous, humble even.
“Not sure when ya saw, ‘course, but it wasn’t just kiddie shit, boxes prolly had gun parts in ‘em, smuggled in. Guy was a big dealer, kept shit lowkey in town, had big boats ‘nd trucks runnin’ other places. Did some dark shit. I’d go ‘y’know how it is’, but ya don’t, so just imagine ‘s like a movie, ‘kay?”
He suggests with a cheeky grin, very aware it’s not like a movie; but for a normal person, it’s more exciting to fill in the details with something glamorous, isn’t it? Imagine they’re all on some cinematic Godfather type shit, it’s good for his health.
“Workin’ with him got me wrapped up in a lot ‘f shit, but that’s not what I’m bent up over, that’s ‘s much my fault’s anyone’s, ‘m not gonna cry ’nd blame everyone else.”
He shakes his head, looking down with a rueful look.
“You sound like you get it, yeah? Ropin’ me into shit, trainin’ me. Honestly don’t ‘member a lot ‘f it. No good bein’ someone’s favorite. Hard t’ get away from all that, bein’ someone’s lil golden child type, ‘nd then y’ get a reputation, ‘nd everyone’s sayin’ shit ‘bout what yer doin’, assumin’ shit ‘ bout you, it’s fuckin’…”
He tenses up, rambling briefly before deciding to drop the train of thought, pivoting.
“But y’ should’ve heard how ‘e talked ‘bout me when I wasn’t ‘round, thought I couldn’t hear. That was enough t’ make me wanna fuckin’ kill him.”
Then he shakes it off, calming back down.
“Don’t get it twisted, I didn’t just hunt ‘im down all myself, wasn’t just a revenge thing. Someone else wanted ‘im dead, thought I might have a vendetta. Weren’t wrong. Paid me good t’ do ‘im in. ‘s not somethin’ I’d done ‘fore, but I needed th’ cash. Y’know how it is,” he says again, rhetorically.
“Hadn’t seen ‘im in a while, thought it’d be simple ‘nough, world needed less fucks like him. Thought I could do it nice n’ clean, clandestine like, but…”
He trails off a second, narrowing his eyes, gaze flicking to Vincent for a moment.
“Well, y’ saw, right? Me ‘nd him hadn’t seen each other in a few years, he saw me ‘nd it was like… Fucker was happy, stupid fuckin’ smile, grabbin’ me— lookin’ like everythin’ was gonna go back t’ how it was, like I ‘s there to help, make ‘s problems go away. I had t’ make sure the last thing on ‘is mind was that shit was different— I was different, ’m not some stupid little kid anymore...”
“… Y’know?”
He adds again, becoming aware of what a tirade he just went on. Was it even an answer? He thinks so, but he’s never been good at explaining things.
