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[ Karma. Oh, man, if Marcus didn't need the money, he'd just roll his eyes, overstep, launch himself hard into some big, melodramatic tirade about how there's no such thing and ultimately fuck up enough to make Tate retract his offer. Life is just shit, though, plain and simple - doing good deeds won't rack up points with the fairness police, and keeping your head down and tossing the occasional dime to the underprivileged won't avert your next regularly scheduled disaster. But - whatever. Marcus feels like a bit of a charity case here, and that gets under his skin a little, but money is money. He learned pretty fast after Sunset that you take cash where you can get it. ]

Yeah.

[ Marcus draws his eyes to the stash on the bed, drifting over and thoughtfully grabbing the first package that calls out to him. He's actually not all that well-versed in drugs, and between throwing back the molly to look tough and showing up in this place high to all hell, he completely oversold how familiar he is with this shit, but - he feels better, having Tate believe he knows what he's doing. ]

I just don't want you to think this is a thing. I can help you out until I'm back on my feet, but once I get a contract or a real job, I won't want to do this anymore. You okay with that?

Yeah, I get it. No strings attached, you're free to walk whenever.

[Tate isn't going to fight Marcus on his need to assert his own power over his choices, non-committal as he may be. He lets Marcus handle the goods, wrapped as they are and in separate baggies and containers. He pulls his backpack closer to him by the bedside, rooting through it to pull out a small journal. It's not his personal one, it's a red leather booklet that he opens and then looks through some written down notes on pages that appear to be blank to other people. Thanks, Kavinsky.]

Three of these gotta be dropped tonight, by four am. How many you think you can do?

[Tate yawns against the back of his hand.]

I can write out the rest, just burn after reading, y'know?

All of them, I guess. I know my way around well enough by now.

[ Marcus doesn't really care about Tate's journal, or whatever, but he does try to catch a glimpse of what he's written down in passing and wonders, when he sees that the pages are blank, if Tate bought a new journal specifically for this. Marcus throws the package back down on the bed, careless. ]

You gonna pay me before or after?

Can you wait 'til the first payback? I'll give you a cut straight from what he swaps for the big one.

[Tate nods toward the brick that's probably the most valuable of the items on the bed; it's not worth more than a couple grand and the quality is shit but Tate's trying to finance his life up from the bootheels here. You gotta start with the shitty drugs and then move into the more refined shit later. He shoots Marcus a look, then cants his head to the side.]

I'm kinda broke. I got stuck in a weird situation where I have to pay for a Sub's shit here for a month. It's why I'm doing this in the first place.

[ Marcus was under the impression that Dominants had an easy life, here, and he's kind of thrown by Tate saying that that's not really the case - a better person might show concern for this Sub, ask what they did to get put into so much debt that they needed to be financially provided for by another person, and the self-preserving part of Marcus does want to know the details here so he knows what to avoid moving forward. But - ]

Seriously? You want me to wait? How do I know you're actually going to pay me, then?

[ More immediately, he doesn't want to get in trouble with the law - when Lin isn't here to spring for his freedom - if he's not going to get something out of it. Marcus has his guard up, now, wondering if he should be walking. ]

I'm gonna need something.

What d'you want, then.

[Tate's voice gets a bit of an edge to it, like he's annoyed this isn't going his way - because he is. He is already five steps ahead in plotting this out and here Marcus is, thinking of pulling on the brakes. He huffs a bit, setting down the notebook and looking up at Marcus with an intense eye to eye stare. He'd really prefer if the guy didn't ditch on him, but he's not sure what he's got to offer.]

I can't spare anything more than a couple joints, product wise. I had to invest to work my way up. I got about fifty bucks which you probably can't spend on your own anyway. I'm already getting you a mixed tape. You wanna rob me of my vinyl too? Or do you wanna just get your dick wet with a blowie and this is your way of asking?

I don't want any product.

[ Drugs are easy enough to come by without dipping his fingers into what he's supposed to be pushing, in Marcus's experience - he'd rather just get the money than muddy up these waters. Marcus is unphased by most of what Tate is saying, though he still gets a little awkward at the implication that he wants something physical here; he just closes his eyes, briefly shakes his head and holds up his hand. ]

You owe me a favor. A real one.

[ Marcus doesn't know what he'd need, exactly, but currying favor with a dominant who has ties to shit like this seems better than burning this bridge before he has to. He's spent a long time lone wolfing it, and, honestly, that is his preferred state, but he can make Tate someone he can go to for help in the future one day without acknowledging that he actually needs help. That's a good card to have. ]

I might need something in the future, and I'll just - cash in. No questions asked. Okay?

[This feels reminiscent of something, to Tate. Promises exchanged like currency, more valuable than most. He has to respect it, the way Marcus comes up with this rather than going for any more material gain. Tate cocks his head to the side like he has to think on it, like it's a weight he plays back and forth in his brain - but he's already made a decision on it. He'll do it - if anything, favors are the easiest things to commit to. If you commit to them at all.

While it's true that Tate's not loving the idea of being on call so to speak, there's no saying he'll ever really have to do whatever it is Marcus wants. Marcus could disappear tomorrow, for Christ's sake. He ends up playing with a matchbook from the bedside, striking a match and letting it burn out idly before dropping the charred remains in the ash tray.]

Deal. That mean we're good to go, then? No other stipulations, or any questions?

[ Marcus isn't stupid - he knows, full well, that Tate's word very likely means nothing. He wanted something from Tate now, and the only reason he backed down and asked for something less material was because he felt pretty compelled to not rob him blind after he made his case to Marcus; if Tate doesn't follow through on the favor, then, whatever, Marcus won't say he didn't see that coming. He always has a backup plan, for when people let him down like that - sever all ties, salt the earth, burn that relationship to the ground. Works like a charm every time.

So Marcus shrugs, raising his hands again, less to stop Tate from talking and more to show surrender. He's done with the pushback, done with looking this particular gifthorse in the mouth, and as he steps forward to examine the packages again, he ignores the stress in his stomach warning him that this might be a bad idea. Getting into trouble here is the last thing he needs. ]

No other questions. Just... tell me what I'm doing.

Edited (asdfg) 2021-02-16 07:05 (UTC)

Alright. One sec...

[He fishes out a smaller notepad from his bag, and holds open his journal to one of the several blank pages as if reading from it - fingers splayed to keep it in place. He takes the cap off his pen with his teeth, spitting it onto the bed and scribbles down a few messy details onto the pad of paper, mostly single names and locations paired with times. There's four, maybe five, and after a hesitant moment he jots down the people who're going to give something back - either in goods or the amount of cash.

Then he lets go of the journal, rips the paper from the pad, and holds it out to him. Then he leans back against the headboard, taking a moment to just sit and see if any other questions happen to crop up. It feels like this is a done enough deal, but Tate's not really feeling the idea of getting up and leaving. He doesn't hate Marcus. Might just like him, actually.]

You can stay here if you like, I have it booked for the week. I know that it's not really that much better than the common areas but you could probably smoke here uninterrupted or something.

[An attempt at - offering more than words, maybe?]

Whenever you get things done I can come back and meet up - cut you your share and give you more work if you want it.

[ Offering Marcus a temporary roof over his head actually does seem to warm some of the frostiness he's still carrying with him. He likes his roommate, but he hates the dorms, and being able to step out or have somewhere to just... fuck himself up in without being seen or judged, that'd - that'd be really good. Marcus hesitates, not sure how to express his gratitude, but he does his best. ]

I... I'd actually really appreciate that. Thank you.

[ He runs his fingers back through his hair before taking the names of his first set of clients. He's torn between feeling kind of excited about having something solid to do and wake up to, if only for the next few days, and feeling anxious about what he's getting himself into. It's nice to have a purpose, though. Better than being trapped and isolated like he has been for the past, like, decade. ]

They're not going to...

[ Again, Marcus hesitates, crumpling up the list and shoving it into his front pocket. Marcus isn't the kind of guy to get shy over shit like this, but - well, he still hasn't figured out his quota, and he still doesn't know how to bring it up. He takes a breath and just plows forward, taking the list out of his pocket and focusing on unfolding it and smoothing out the creases, just so he can keep his eyes down and his hands busy while he asks what he has to ask. ]

They're not under the impression that they can pay me in... anything else, right? Like - nobody's gonna try to blow me for an extra 8 ball, or whatever?

No, but they might try to play you that way. Or ask for extra - use your own discretion?

[Tate's trying to seem like he knows what he's doing, but in honesty he has no clue. When he did runs for Kavinsky, he just did what he was told and got the job done. Masterminding the whole thing is a lot more detailed and puts a lot of pressure on him to get everything nailed down. But Tate's never exactly been great with covering all the bases and not fucking something up along the way. But after trying to put the decisions on Marcus for that, he has to backtrack a bit.]

I mean, don't do discounts but get laid if it benefits you.

[He knows Marcus is anti-system, anti-city but...]

But no, whatever. Be firm and don't take any shit and you should be fine.

Be firm and don't take any shit.

[ Easy enough. He can do that. Tate isn't giving Marcus a ton of direction here, but that's fine - he doesn't want to come across as someone who needs their hand held, and if all he has to do is posture himself like the shitheads at King's and pocket whatever he's given, he thinks he can skate by anything else that comes up. Marcus nods, mumbles something about how he's got this handled, and shoves the list back into his pocket. ]

Gonna make my first drop tonight. Few hours until the sun sets, so -

[ He shrugs, gesturing vaguely at the room. He's gonna stay here for a while, and he's not saying as much, but the half-hearted nod and the fact that he isn't kicking Tate out of what is, apparently, his room now, is hopefully invitation enough for Tate to stay around until then. ]

Cool.

[Tate could leave it at that but there's a silence that settles between them like freshly fallen snow; it's not heavy and overbearing and honestly, he doesn't mind it. He doesn't offer to go with Marcus because he's not interested in being too buddy buddy, and the whole point of getting his help with this is to delegate some of his own responsibilities. But he'll linger, loiter, and sit around half because he's paying for the place but also half because he wants to be there.]

You eat yet? I haven't.

[He says honestly, chewing at his lower lip - he only seems to remember that he needs to when he's around people who keep him regulated or when he thinks of other people first and then himself by extension. He doesn't remember the last time he ate offhand and doesn't have an appetite.]

I'm thinking pizza.

[ Marcus is immediately certain that he made the right decision by not just unceremoniously booting Tate out the door. He hasn't eaten well since he got here, only pecking at what he can find like a rat, preferring to live off of scraps he finds in dumpsters in the Up than anything he can get at the down - and the thought of having a fucking pizza, oh my god, he could cry. The grin that breaks out on Marcus's face is wide and unguarded, lighting up his entire face. ]

Dude. I would deepthroat your entire cock for just one slice of pizza.

[ No homo, obviously, just - shit, the things he would do. Marcus looks more and more relaxed as he drifts over to the bed, dropping back hard enough against the mattress to make the springs squeak. He stretches his arms, cracks his knees, then looks up at Tate, chill and happy. Easily swayed. ]

You sure you can afford it, though? I thought you were all tied up.

[Tate snorts - actually shows a bit of a smile - and then rolls his eyes to keep that no homo humor between the two of them. He sits forward, shifting to pull his wallet out of his jeans and set it in front of him. It's pathetically slim, but he pulls out two twenties that look like they've seen better days. Brows arched, he sighs and leans back and lets his head briefly loll against the wall.]

All I have for the rest of the month, at least until we get money moving.

[He still can't believe he's been dipping into his funds so violently after getting fucked over by the city. He's dropped hundreds on this kid to ward off any more citations or punishments, and hasn't opened up to anyone about it out of a fear of being perceived as stupid for biting off so much and going so long now without seeking help. Derek's the last person he wants to burden with this, too.]

I'll order it anyway, though. Who the fuck cares - you only live like, once, right?

[He thumbs his phone unlocked.]

I can't fuck with the app so I'll call it in, Deepthroat.

[ Oh, man, that's not a nickname he wants to stick. Marcus laughs, a little louder than he intended, resting his hand on his stomach and closing his eyes. The bed smells musty and stale, the stains on the floor still feel wet when you walk on them, and the walls are paper-thin - but Marcus feels comfortable here, like he's used to motels like this one. He relaxes into the sheets and waits out the call, offering his input on toppings when he's prompted, and when Tate hangs up, Marcus gives him his attention again. ]

I'll pay you back tonight. I'll cover my half, at least.

[ Assuming he doesn't get fucked over by his first client, but - Marcus is confident everything'll turn out okay. A few seconds pass in silence while Marcus grapples with a few things in his head; the responsible part of him still wants to ask what this sub did to make Tate financially responsible for him, but the part of him that overthinks every social interaction and panics about saying the right thing worries that being too friendly will make him look invasive and needy. It takes Marcus a second to just pluck up the courage and ask. ]

So - what's the deal with that, anyway? Paying off some sub's debts. He your friend, or something?

[Tate makes a gesture as if to wave it off - but he really won't put up a fight either way for Marcus' half of the pizza, money as scarce to the two of them as it is. But after the call's made and there's a window of time to wait in (assuming they can find this fucking motel room - he's sure they can,) in which Tate lights up another cigarette and tries to stay mellow and chill. Maybe he'll have a joint in a bit too, but he still has shit to do. Relaxing before then seems counter productive.

But the topic of Nick comes up (he brought it up,) as something to respond to and he makes a face - equal parts annoyed and aggravated. Tate is actually a bit happy to finally have someone to talk this over with, who might vindicate his opinion. Marcus is anti-city so of course he's gonna be anti-bullshit courtesy of the city, too?]

I didn't know him 'til I got called into this suit's office a little while back, slapped with this fucking imposed contract. I have to tick off a certain amount of shit from a list, and be financially responsible for him. He's unsigned, so maybe that matters? Don't know why they picked me though. It's not like I'm rolling in bank.

[He takes a puff of his smoke.]

I'm paying for his monthly requirements and giving him a five hundred allowance for two weeks. Those were the cheapest options, too. Before you get me started.

[ That sounds... insane, and Marcus doesn't really know what to make of it. He assumes that Tate's unsigned, too, if the city went to him for this - maybe they're putting an uncontracted dom and an uncontracted sub together in the hopes that they might sign a contract together that supersedes the one imposed on them by LIES? - but the way Tate says he's unsigned makes it sound like he's putting distance between the two of them in that regard, so maybe that's not the case.

But that seems even more dangerous, to Marcus. To know that you can still be signed with someone, still be playing the rules, and end up fucked... it's a lot to take in, and he sounds a little more bitter and angry than he means to when he speaks up again. ]

So - what - the city just told you that you have to take care of this kid now? Out of nowhere? Why does he have to be your responsibility?

[ Not that he wants to sound like he's begrudging this sub for being a sub, or whatever, but christ. Marcus couldn't imagine being in Tate's shoes right now. He rolls onto his side, props himself up on his elbow, all so he can see Tate better. ]

What happens if he signs with someone else? Are you still gonna have to pay for him?

Some pilot... project, or - test? I don't know.

[He swats at the air, disrupting the float of his smoke as its plume heads upward to stain the ceiling an even darker amber hue. Tate's relaxing with his shoulders down, gestures smooth and lazy - his hand keeps motioning as he talks, not unlike it would with a teen taking a moment to be bitchy about something despite any potential positives for other people involved.]

I think it's a load of bullshit, honestly. I've gotten some citations and in a bit of trouble and I feel like they're out to get me. As paranoid as that sounds.

[Tate shoots a glance at Marcus.]

But yeah, maybe if I can get him signed his Dom can put a word in about cancelling it. Might be my ticket out of this shit.

That doesn't sound paranoid to me. Authoritative powers are united by one thing - a universal compulsion to fuck up the lives of whoever they're supposed to be protecting. Combine that with the fact that nobody holds a grudge like someone with comfort and status... then, well, if you pissed off a higher up over the two years you've been here, I wouldn't be surprised if someone in LIES likes watching you suffer.

[ Marcus sits up, folding his legs and tapping his fingertips against his shoes. As for Tate's ticket out - ]

Everyone keeps telling me there are tons of Doms in this place who hate the system as much as I do. I'm sure someone would leap at the opportunity to sign with this guy and fuck over their plans. Could be an option.

[ Otherwise, Tate could sign with him and make it a point in their contract that he'll only pay this sub as much as he needs to survive - but that feels like it'd be giving Nick the short end of the stick, and Marcus feels like kind of an asshole for almost suggesting that, even though he genuinely thinks it might work. ]

You should be getting him to deliver for you, too. Have him earn his money. Lick the boot of hypersexual capitalism like the two of us are.

[Tate doesn't have to say he doesn't want another sub to juggle - it shows on his face, a flicker of a grimace at the thought of more layers of responsibility. He just wants to not be held accountable for anything or anyone - is that so hard? Why's this always his fucking problem to deal with. He thinks about Nick and the idea of getting him involved and while it has merit...]

I dunno. Maybe if I get to trusting him. I just got a vibe with you, like... you knew what you were in for and I wouldn't have to worry. If I get him in shit I feel like I might get penalized too, somehow. Last thing I want is to have to post bail, or whatever.

[Tempting as it may be.]

And it's not really his fault for winning the fuck lottery. You can't tell me you'd hate being in his shoes, right?

[ There's a knock on the door, and Marcus shrugs dismissively in response to Tate's question while he slides off the bed and goes to answer it. He snags the forty from Tate's wallet without asking, then opens the motel door to a very tired and irritated looking sub, holding a pizza and asking if this is the right place. Marcus pays, tips, and closes the door with his hip, bringing the pizza back to the bed and dropping it down on the mattress. He's taking a bite and talking through a mouthful of cheese a second later. ]

Well... regardless, it's nice to know you trust me.

[ Jesus Christ, it's been a long time since he's had real food. He closes his eyes and just - salivates for a second. It's greasy, cheap and oily, but that doesn't stop Marcus from savoring every piping hot bite. He polishes off an entire slice before he's willing to talk again, wiping the grease off on the sheets. Probably no less sanitary than whoever stayed here last, so. ]

I'll try not to make life any harder on you. Just gonna make my sales and get out. You've got enough going on without having to worry about me fucking up my deliveries.

Thanks.

[Tate says after a beat, holding a slice of pizza in one hand without the same hunger that Marcus has. Tate's quite the opposite - taking small, slow bites, less to savor and more just to go through the motions. Tate'll barely touch two slices out of the whole pizza but he does reach for one of the sodas that came with it. He cracks open the can and tips it back, swallowing a few gulps before wiping his lips off on the back of his hand.]

It's nice to... just know that there are still people around who give a fuck about other people. I've met a few, yeah, but. I guess I've just become really jaded about this shit. Loyalty, commitment? Some people don't even have those words in their vocabulary.

[ Marcus has to admit he's a little thrown by that, but - not necessarily in a bad way. In a pretty fucking good way, actually. Marcus tries to hide his smile while he eats, looking down at the sheets and avoiding eye contact, but there's a proud little lilt in his voice that he can't quite smother. ]

That's the impression I give you? You think I'm someone who gives a fuck?

[ He's trying to sound dismissive, or like he might even be making fun of Tate for saying that, but - he's not a good liar, and it's clear that he's happy with the impression he's given. He grabs a soda for himself, too, ripping open the tab and taking a swig, still sheepishly smiling when he's done. ]

I mean, you're not wrong. Loyalty and commitment matter to me. I just... kind of assumed you saw me as a stoner with good taste in music. Who won't take shit from people.

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