---- Recall start ----

Long distance to Cari and Horus: Priest is reminded of a scene he has to do.
Cari pages to Priest and Horus: Uh-oh...

Medina Coffees(#2111RJM)

The tall black man strolls into the coffee house, in his attention-getting
vintage 20's tuxedo, the top hat tucked under one arm. He smiles warmly at 
friends, acquaintances, total strangers...

Angelo looks up from his seat across the room, idly at first, then with 
narrow-eyed attention as he recognizes the new arrival. He sets his mug gently 
down on the tabletop, leans slowly back in his chair.

Priest browses the room casually, lets his eyes fall on Angelo, then drift 
away as he moves toward the counter.

Angelo taps one scarred finger gently on the tabletop, watching the other man 
quietly. His grim expression is fixed. He sets a booted foot softly against 
the floor.

Priest leaves the counter, a steaming mug in one hand, and a fistful of 
something that he occasionally pops a portion of into his mouth. He drifts 
toward Angelo's table.

Angelo's expression darkens a shade as the man approaches; his jaw tightens, 
but he says nothing. One hand remains on the table, the other at his side.

Priest looks at an empty chair across from him. Looks up. Looks at the chair. 
Looks up. "This seat taken?"

Angelo stops his tapping. For just a moment his hand tightens on the tabletop. 
Then, with studied calm, he reaches out with a boot to push back the chair 
opposite. "Plant it." It is not a pleasant sound.

Priest smiles graciously. "Why thank you, sir. The cafe was so crowded this 
evening, I worried I wouldn't get a seat." He sinks into the chair as if he 
weren't six foot six and mostly bone, setting his mug on the table.

Angelo lets the blandishment pass, his frown unremitting. "Make your point," 
he says softly. "This is all the opportunity you're going to have."

Priest shrugs. "Word on the street is pissed off cherub wants to talk to the 
Priest. They say stay away. The Priest says find out what the man wants."

Angelo watches the other man quietly for a moment. Then, "The man wants to 
know what happened to Rina Vencenzo."

Priest dips his head. "Mm hm. Not surprising." He takes a long sip from the 
mug."You think I did it?"

Angelo answers, "I think you know who did. I think you were involved." There 
is no sense of threat in the words, merely dull finality.

Priest nods. "You think I want Angel hurt. That I enjoy knowin' she's lyin' 
in bed right now, and she can't move because it would hurt too much to move 
if she weren't drugged up to the gills."

Angelo shrugs. "Whips, knives, baseball bats. A fellow can get carried away. 
Who draws the line, eh, Priest?"

Priest leans forward, relaxed tone gaining a note of intensity. "/She/ does, 
tofu. I /never/ did anything she didn't ask me to do. You have no 
comprehension." A pause. "And you don't want any."

Angelo matches the taller man's intensity, his own quiet, bordering on hot. 
"Did you know she was going to kill herself with those drugs you ordered for 
her? Did you care about *that*, Priest?"

Priest shakes his head. "She couldn't have. She knows that. Those things, you 
just get sick and /wish/ you were dead." His tone is relaxed again, he sits 
back in his chair. "And no, I didn't know that. Did you know that, before she 
was in a hospital bed?"

Angelo closes his eyes for a long, tense moment before replying, with measured 
calm, "Do you know what happened? Do you have names?"

Priest shakes his head. "Didn't think you did."

Angelo opens his eyes slowly, fixing his gaze on the tall black man seated 
across from him. His expression is one of carefully-composed anger. "Are you 
going to answer my question? Please say no."

Julie hurries to the coffee shop, hoping Angelo is there tonight. A pause to 
gather her thoughts, and a deep breath, then Julie opens the door and steps in.

Priest lifts a hand, the motion seeming to cross miles before his palm points 
toward Angelo. "I'm sure we can share information on this case, detective. 
With our combined efforts, perhaps we can bring the thugs to justice. And find 
out why Angel holds her life in such low regard."

Angelo's attention is fixed on the man across from him; his hand on the table 
whitens across the knuckles, and for a long moment he says nothing. Finally, 
with a kind of grudging patience, "She placed her order with you. What do you 
know?"

Julie takes a moment to orient herself, dull blue eyes peering up past 
eyebrows and through the veil of dirty blonde braids. She takes a step further 
in, still hunched, as per usual, over her tightly clutched journal. Her gaze 
falls on the two men talking, uncertainty in her gaze. Julie scuffs a 
high-topped toe lightly on the floor in wait to be acknowledged by the older 
Gnawer.

Priest shakes his head. "That she wanted it brought out to her, at the Bridge. 
I ain't got a car, so I did a shout out." Another long sip from the mug.

Angelo echoes, distastefully, "A 'shout out.'" His grey-eyed gaze flicks 
briefly to Julie by the door, then back to the Priest. "And who came when you 
called?"

Julie catches the glance and sits at a table near the door. A glance to Mei 
behind the counter, and she lips an order for coffee, then sets her journal on 
the table in front of her, opening it to the last page she wrote on.

Priest shakes his head. "If I knew, I'da told you. Don't know the guy. 
Hispanic, about six foot, big guy. Bodybuilder type. Said he had a new 
Saturn--real proud about it, wanted to be sure I knew what he had under the 
hood. So to speak."

Angelo raises one pale eyebrow. "Big guy. Hispanic. About six foot. Didn't 
leave a name, or a handle, or anything."

Priest shrugs. "Man was doing a favour. You don't ask for a credit check, you 
say thank you and tell him where to make the delivery."

Angelo considers this for a moment before nodding fractionally. "Uh-huh. What 
color was the car?"

Julie leans to push a grimy hand into her front jean pocket, she pulls out 
enough change to pay for the cup of coffee Mei thuds lightly onto her table, 
who takes the coins with a nod and faint grunt of acknowledgement before 
returnng to her work behind the counter. Julie sips the coffee, then bends 
over her open journal, a fingertip pressed to the page.

Priest shakes his head. "Never saw the thing. He just talked a lot 
about... engine shit. Horsepowers and cylinders and whatever. And his big 
stereo."

Angelo shifts, a very little, in his seat. "Because you never went outside."

An occasional glance is lifted through veiling dirty blonde braids towards the 
two men as Julie sips her coffee. The pen she uses is dug out of the furrow of 
pages, and, held in left hand, is pushed across the page.

Priest reaches out to take hold of the mug, as if he's going to take another 
maddeningly long sip. Then he doesn't. "No."

Angelo looks down for a moment, then back at the other man. "And you gave this 
man your package, and you were done. That's all you have."

You say "I've noticed he's been conspicuously absent since then."

Angelo's eyes narrow a touch. "And that's it."

Priest rolls his eyes. "If I was harboring the psycho in my bedroom, would I 
have come huntin' you down? Get real."

The pen continues to scratch across the page, the noise strangely loud in the 
relative silence of the shop. Julie pauses in her writing, glancing up at 
Angelo's tone of voice, to watch the two.

Angelo nods once, quietly. His eyes drop to the tabletop, perhaps thoughtful. 
Softly, he says, "Get out. Do it quickly. Don't saunter, don't stroll. 
Haul ass."

Priest rises up out of the chair, like a puppet on a string. "Yes, Massa! I 
gone git me on out de daw!" Arms waving, long legs jerking in store eating 
strides, Steppinfetchit moves out of the store. "Laws, yes, Doan wanna make de 
Massa mad! Done like he's goan /whup/ me!"

Angelo stands swiftly, knocking back his chair in the process. His expression 
has gone sepulchral. He stalks swiftly after the man, one hand dipping into 
his pocket.

Julie blinks, watching this, then she tenses, knowing the tone Angelo used 
meant no joking. Her pen is quietly put down, and her journal closed quietly, 
as if she was preparing for something. And this was that something.

With an 'Amos N Andy' groan, the Priest pushes open the door and is out on the 
street.

Angelo bangs out after him, hurling the door aside in his impatience. As he 
hits the night air he slips the gun free of his coat.

Industrial Sector, Southwest Side

Priest glances over his shoulder at the sound of the door, and spots the gun. 
At this, he starts and breaks into a full run, screaming "He'p!! He'p!! De man 
gotta *gun*! He gone *shoot* Toby!"

Julie steps outside and immediately moves to the wall, pressing her back to it 
to watch, and stay out of the way, at least for now. Wincing at the man's 
yelling, she looks to Angelo. "Police'll come, if they hear you shoot." A 
hurried whisper.

Priest scoots as quickly as he can toward an alleyway, screaming and hooting 
at the top of his lungs. A few curious passers by stop to watch. More 
observant ones espy the gun and find cover.

Angelo strays into the street, the young Gnawer trailing him thoroughly 
ignored. Eyes narrowed, gun held at arm's length, he tracks the swift-moving 
Priest towards the shadows of safety; at almost the last moment the weapon 
bucks, the crack of a single discharge cuts the night air.

The raucous ruckus dies abruptly, as if somebody had suddenly turned the radio 
off. Silence echoes. Or is it the gunshot?

Julie following Angelo, she jumps at the sound of the weapon firing, coming to 
a halt.

Angelo takes a few steps towards the darkness of the alley. As the other man 
disappears, he throws his arms wide, gun held absently, head tilted back. 
"FUCK!" he howls, fury, frustration, self-recrimination, loathing of the whole 
sordid business, a potent shout from deep in the chest.

You paged Horus with 'Is Cari asking for a log yet? (:'.

Julie cringes, then slowly steps forward, placing a thin, grimy hand on his 
shoulder. "C'mon, Ang'lo," she whispers, "Bett'r ge' outta here, b'fore the 
p'lice come."

THe crowd rapidly thins, finding things to do in other places.

Angelo shakes the young Gnawer off at first; only gradually does he seem to 
recognize her. As he does so, the twisted fury in his features fades, slowly. 
His expression grows ashen, the gun returns to his pocket; at last, he 
acquiesces with a small, exhausted nod.

Julie cants her head to the shop, murmurs, concern pinching her features. 
"Wanna go back t' the coffee shop, 'r sumwher'else?" A hand reaching towards 
him again, palm up in offering.

Angelo shakes his head sharply, drifting almost unconsciously towards the 
shadows along the wall. He does, however, take Julie's offered hand; the other 
goes to his temple, massaging it vigorously. "No," he murmurs at last. "No, we 
have business."

Julie blinks in surprise, getting pulled towards the wall. "Um, okay, Ang'lo," 
she murmers quietly.

Angelo draws in a deep breath, blows it out loudly; after a moment's pause, 
the young woman in tow, he sets off swiftly around the corner and down the 
street to the east.

"Where we goin'?" Julie whispers, getting towed.

Angelo pages: Thanks. That was fun. :)
---- Recall end ----

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