// I have class soon. I have to leave at five because of traffic and it’s almost a thirty minute drive and in the city. Harrisburg. Time to die.
Anyways, my class is three hours long so I wont be home till nearly ten pm eastern. I haven’t been in college for almost two years and I go and throw myself into a three hour class. I’m going to die?
“Called it.” He smiled faintly and uncrossed his arms again, letting out a quiet sigh and running a hand through his hair, “Not so much, you just didn’t know who I was the last time I tried to talk to you, so… Hi, I’m Strider. A droog of yours, I believe.”
“Well, Strider. If ya’ are a droog, then I believe you,” He gave him a grin. “Appy polly loggies, mate. I seem to have a bit of memory loss. You understand, yeah?”
“… Georgie.” Strider looks away and crosses his arms lightly, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you have no idea who I am.”
“—.. You!” He simply said, not wanting to be too insulting by not saying his name. He didn’t know it. He couldn’t remember it. Nope, not at all. “Is it that obvious?”
“—..” Georgie doesn’t remember London being this boring. Where were his droogs? The ones he remembered anyways.
“Could I? Could I? You must’ve seriously forgotten who I am! I’m that guy who took out that police precinct all on his own, with my eyes closed!” He laughs, boasting as he loved to do. Well, his eyes weren’t exactly closed, and well, it wasn’t exactly a fond memory, either. Georgie didn’t need to know that.
And hyper he was. It wasn’t often Wesley got to hang out with (or even say hi to) civilians he got along with. Always with the conflict, always with the crap. He had a few hand-picked people that he actually enjoyed being around, and Georgie was one of them. He did certainly bring out the worst in him, but who was keeping track?
“Have in mind? You pick somethin’ this time!” Giving Georgie’s shoulder a bump with his fist, he stretches his arms out over his head. “I’m up for anything — blowing up a mini-golf, raiding a whore-house, or just sinking a yacht full of snobs, I don’t give a fuck, really. You could say a bottle of Jack on a curb and I’d be a-ok with that too.” He shrugs his shoulders with a smile.
“Well, go ta’ Nevada and kill the gloopy bratchies,” Oh, if he actually told Wes what he had done to him? Well, that just wouldn’t be a good idea. It would set him off. Then again, maybe he could use the anger. He would love to see how Wes would react to such a thing. “See, I got caught for the first thing in my life a few months ago when I was in the States,” He often when to the States when he was avoiding the UK police. It usually worked until he got into trouble. “Got arrested for murder, yada yada. Was diagnosed a psychopath so I was put in the mental institution. Apparently I was too much trouble and they tried to give me a lobotomy,” Needless to say, he had lost a lot of his memories. Wes was lucky Georgie even remembered him.
He thought for a moment. “How about we buy a bottle of Jack, sink a multiple yachts full of drunken snobs an’ sit on the dock and watch the show. Of course, we’d get shitfaced and get into other unplanned things because whats the fun in plans?” He smirked.
“Just wondering. Making sure you’re not going to go run off again when I’m not looking.”
“Well, not my fault ya’ aren’t dobby at watching. I’ll probably only leave if I need too. Hopefully there wont be a reason,” He was getting sick traveling.
“Yeah. Good to see you, kid. How long are you in London for?”
“It’s good ta’ viddy you too, old man.” He gave the other a playful shove.
“I should be around for a bit, why?”
“Pssh, I’m a professional assassin! Anyone who’s an enemy of yours is an enemy of mine.” He smiles wide, baring his teeth and all, “Next time someone messes with ya, I’ll blow their fuckin’ heads off!”
He spreads his arms out, “We gotta do something to celebrate you being back. Where do you wanna go? Chaos? Pleasure? Both?” As much as Wes wasn’t going to admit, Georgie was his excuse to be an absolute abomination to humanity, be it mindless murder, or senseless torture… But then, Wesley’s father did want him to do whatever brought him happiness, right?
“Fuck, remember when he knocked over that bar? That was sick!” He laughs, giving Georgie a playful shove.
“Well, I don’t really know there names! Just what they do and who they work for.” Yeah, a nuthouse. “If you could shoot and kill almost everyone who works at a mental institution, that would be real horrorshow,” He smirked, crossing his arms.
He watched the other man move around dramatically. Oh, he was always a hyper one. Like a little dog. “Chaos, pleasure. I think both of em’ go hand and hand. Don’t ya’ think?” A sadistic smirk appeared on his face. Georgie loved spending time with Wes, for it meant that they would get into some kind of crazy shit and no one would judge the other for it. Ah, that was rare these days!
“That was great! Poor fuckers didn’t see it coming, eh?” He gave Wes a playful shove back, rolling his eyes. “What do you have in mind, eh?”
“Where have you been this time, mini me? Had another trip to the States, yeah?”
“I was spendin’ some time in Wales. I am avoiding the States like the plague. You should know that,”
“Holy shit, Georgie!”
Wes exclaims, running over and giving him a good ol’ boy’s slap on the back. He recognized that crazy-haired weirdo anywhere. “Damn, it’s been fuckin’ ages, bro! Where have you been? Hiding from pigs or somethin’?”
Georgie turned when he heard a familiar voice, a large smile appearing on his face.
“Wes!” He returned the gesture, patting the man on the shoulder. “Ya’ know, I’ve got ta’ wonder an what not.” Okay, he didn’t need to, he was just a bit paranoid. “Oh, you can say that! Hiding from a lot of people who want me’ gulliver on a plate, ya’ know?”