2020-03-02 - Frenemies at the Gate

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : Kelly. We need to talk. don't think I've forgotten.

(TXT to Ruiz) Joey : Dropping Sprout off at pre-school so if you're bringing me jewelry gimme 15 min.

(TXT to Ruiz) Joey : I know your'e a big fan of chrome. Coffee'll do really.

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : No jewelry. Unless you think you've done something to earn it.

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : Have you? done something to earn it?

(TXT to Ruiz) Joey : Were it anyone else fucking texting me that I'd say I'd totally volunteer to

(TXT to Ruiz) Joey : You wanna meet at my office or that ribs place?

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : volunteer to what

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : And ribs sounds good. missed our last date, baby.

(TXT to Ruiz) Joey : Heh Ronnie's rib shack. Outskirts. I need to hit Roen up on how to unbreak a shrub while i'm out there. Long story. See you in 20.

(TXT to Joey) Ruiz : Yeah, see you in a few

The place, of course, is a dive. The neon sign on the entrance is missing most of its letters, the only vehicles parked out front are a truck on its last legs and a stolen bicycle, and the music playing on the radio is hits from the 80s that has de la Vega making a sour face. He's slouched in one of the rearmost booths, menu in his hands, fairly easily recognisable in a ball cap and battered bomber jacket. The staff here know he's a cop, and they probably have a good idea of whom he's meeting up with. So an out of the way table it is.

The staff here very much know who Joey is because he was here a week ago having a very short talk with Ronnie. Joey rather likes the talks where he doesn't need to repeat himself, or Felix for that matter, but sometimes it happens. As it turns out it's left people being very polite in that oh fuck what now sort of way. This? This Joey Kelly doesn't mind so long as everyone acts like chill little Fonzies.

Really of all things in Gray Harbor that never change Joe Kelly seems to be one of them, though these days his hair and beard seem to be n excellent repair. This happens when a tall, Amazonian hairdresser chases your punk ass around with a pair of scissors and uses loving phrases like Sit your ass down right now. I'm not having you run out looking like that. Really for Joey? Life's been alright. Busy but seemingly alright.

The knit cap is pulled off his head and he drops into the seat across from de la Vega in such a way he can still keep one eye on the room. "Been a minute. Heard I almost had to go after someone. The fuck happen?"

The cop doesn't look up from his menu as Joey sits. Of course he knows who it is; he's a mentalist of no small skill, and he'd recognise that particular signature anywhere. "Go after someone? You're going to have to be more specific." He flips the page in his menu, frowns at it. "Think the steak here's any good?" De la Vega's had a haircut recently himself; his hair's shorn fairly close to his skull, beard trimmed and tidy. Doesn't make him look much less like an ex-con though, what with all the tatts and a couple of fresh bruises disappearing under his tee shirt.

Joey is not a subtle man and has that manner about him that is, if anything, consistent. You're all welcome. Does he need the menu? No. Does he look? It's a habit. that earns it a glance over. "Ya know... actually pretty fucking decent. Not like they're distracted learning 80,000 things." Ribs. Steaks. There's a burger. Anything that doesn't really fall into one of these categories of carnivore buffet? Well that's all buyer beware.

Leaning back in the booth when the waiter comes over he murmurs, 'BBQ ribs and a coke." The usual. Who needs variety if something works? The gravely boxer lets grumpycop order and waits for the server to am-scray.

"I head back from Gilligan's handler by the by."

The steak's considered a moment more in light of Joey's response, but ultimately scrapped in favour of, "A burger. Medium rare. Coffee, too. Thanks." He doesn't make eye contact with the server, and digs out his phone once she's gone, to respond to a message that pinged it while they were ordering.

"Gilligan's handler? What handler?" The questions are asked, but he doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, "Monaghan's been collecting on some debts." His thundercloud greys seek out Joey's gaze, and hold it steadily. "I want to know what the fuck's going down. Cruz won't talk, so guess whose door I'm knocking on next."

Joey answers in that slightly annoyed tone to explain what he already did and what Ruiz already knows. "The handler...for Gill-a-Monster. Concussed you. Blew me the fuck up. Not the kinda blow job I prefer but we won." He just stares at the cop and murmurs like a*yeah,alright I'll explain it*. "Goddamn your'e getting old. I talked to the fight coordinator."

When he's talking about Felix's business and THERE is the predictably neutral sunnovabitch as to be expected. "Why would Cruz know dick? The man's a fucking liability if there ever was one. If you had anything of any personal nature why would you fucking tell him?" You're welcome Cris.

As for the debts Joey reasons, "If someone lends another dude something it's every citizen's right to be repaid. Life ain't a charity."

Ruiz skips riiiight on over the stuff about the fight coordinator. He's curious, sure, but that's not what he's here for today. "Funny that you'd mention that." About Cruz being a liability. He eases back in his seat, murmurs his thanks for the coffee that's set in front of him, and takes a sip. Black, of course; no dosing it with sugar or cream. "He keeps an eye on me. I'm sure you know this." The tip of his tongue traces his lower lip, then vanishes again. "And you're absolutely correct that life's not a charity. My question isn't why. My question is why now." He continues to watch Joey steadily, a touch of tension in his shoulders and spine, though outwardly he appears entirely relaxed.

Joey doesn't have the audacity to be surprised. In fact he straight up tells Ruiz, "Who isn't. We're all being watched. Keeps people honest." He stops and catches the server setting everything down and says not word one until he goes but grunts a no that they don't need anything else.

"So long as everyone does what they are supposed to do the world's a happy place." The knife's picked up and held there for just a moment while he watches de la Vega possibly with that pause reminding Javier that he too has a role lest he conveniently forget. He moves right into cutting his ribs as if absolutely nothing were implied while everything was implied.

"I dunno. market trends. Inflation. It's his." There's some options. Rib hacked off those teeth tear into it with zero fanfare and fewer regrets. Ribs are the one thing Ronnie does really well. Pay on time? less so. Sadly. "My question is why it buggin you? You owe em?"

As the food arrives, de la Vega goes quiet. Not that he takes his eyes off the other man; the tension between them could be cut with a knife, despite all appearances of them being just a couple buddies hanging out. Once the server's gone, he reaches for his burger and takes a bite. Chews and swallows before replying, "You know what I fucking mean. Don't play games with me." Cruz is an enforcer. Keeps the cops in line. Keeps them turning a blind eye to Felix's dirty work.

"The problem, Kelly, is I'm not really good at doing what I'm supposed to do." He takes another bite, and continues speaking with his mouth half full, "Without the right motivation, anyway." Who knows how much of that will be intelligible. "The fuck you always eat your ribs with a knife and fork?" He looks irritated. "It's finger food, for god's sake."

Joey looking up he asks clearly, one eyebrow raised, "What I mean is why the fuck do I give two shits about Cruz?" It's not hostile it's a point of fact. Ruiz's comment about not doing what he ought brings the smallest grin to him as he gnaws on that damn bone. "No shit you don't. How you think I found you?" Dirty. Fucking. Cop. The world might not be very aware but Joey's tuned in and doesn't really treat him any different for it, but he's not about to be intimidated knowing that either.

There's a pause and he boggles waving the one severed rib, now pulled clean being subjected to urban savagery. "F'one there's no fork. For two unlike some people when I take down the bone I don't like getting hit in the face with shit so I'm sawing the damn thing off because that's how you fucking eat ribs." Simple factoid.

Out of PURE curiosity (asking for a friend) he inquires, "What kinda motivation you looking for to calm your hackles? The man's cleaning up, but buying tanks."

"Because he's one of yours," murmurs the older man, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth after some mustard escapes into his beard. "Like it or not, he is your fucking problem. My problems are your problems, Kelly. And your problems are my problems. You see how this fucking works?" He flashes a wolfish smile at Joey, then goes for a slug of coffee to wash down the bite of food.

"And that is not how you fucking eat ribs. You do it like a man, and use your teeth and hands to get the meat off the goddamn bone." To demonstrate, he brazenly steals one from the guy, and tears the meat away with his teeth. Is it messy? Damn straight. "Mm, I'm wondering whether he's got any big purchases planned. Wouldn't have any ideas about that, would you? Fancy car, a mansion in LA, some diamonds for his girlfriend.. maybe a casino?"

Joey watches Ruiz and holds up his hand like the hell dude??! He lets it go and steals one of Ruiz' fries as a warlord tax. Curious he NOW looks at Ruiz like he grew a second head, "The fuck he buy his girl a casino for? WHat if they break up or somethin? No piece of ass is worth buyin a building for." Except- he pulls out his phone, "Well I sorta take that back. hey you got the number to a good mason on hand? Nicole's back stoop on her shop is like... kinda jacked and don't want her to die gettin a sandwich or some shit."

Ok, maybe one.

There's another rib- rescued from the Ruiz-ing happening to his plate, "One of mine? I have him watch my damn door to- yeah okay." Point, Ruiz. Taking a deep breath he looks to Ruiz for a long time with those wino bottle green eyes and tells him the truth, "I never asked." And that is frighteningly believable and likely. As far as I know I think he said something about getting a place for his ma or something but lemme ask you this."

His eyes sweep the place and back, "Someone like that new fuck rolls in and starts making deletions in your city wouldn't you want your money back in case you can't get it too? That Foster fuck kinda started a shit storm."

"Get the fuck out of my fries," grumbles de la Vega with mock incredulity, going so far as to swat at the man (far too late, of course). He chews on his stolen rib, cleans his fingers off with his napkin, then has the audacity to toss the shredded bone back onto Joey's plate. "A mason? Yeah, sure I do." His tonguetip's used to clean some food from between his teeth as he goes for his phone.

"Yeah, doesn't fucking surprise me," he murmurs when Joey confides that he didn't ask. And that, he believes. A moment later, his phone's slid across the table and turned around. There's a name and a number on the screen, pulled from his contacts. Talk of Foster gains a thoughtful look, but no commentary.

"You're up in my fuckin ribs." That's a no. The yes that he knows a mason gets a dip of a nod of thanks, though he doesn't say it. He gets out his phone to take the number down when he finds it. He wipes his hands because he's not a fucking savage and actually does bear a modicum of respect for the guy. While copying down the number he's silent and doesn't go digging. They have an agreement to be direct and not lie. Not...really. Omission doesn't count. You knwo it's happening so it doesn't count.

Still not looking up he says, "You seemed to heal up alright. They asked if we wanna do a rematch." Which is a hell of a thing for Joey to be talking about when he's the one that literally hopped on a grenade so Ruiz could shoot a guy. "Figure roll in, better prepared...see what they got." Sliding the phone back his brow dips and he stares. "Was really worried about you. Thought you were gonna have a fuckin heart attack and make me fight those assholes myself."

Bickering like schoolboys, apparently, doesn't preclude de la Vega doing his frenemy a solid and putting him in touch with a friend of a friend. "He does good work," he's explaining around a mouthful of fries, followed by his beard wiped clean with his napkin. "But he isn't cheap. Might be able to get him to cut you a deal, though."

He's reaching for his coffee when Joey mentions the FCN fight, and the cop's eyebrows go up at rematch. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this, but why the fuck would we want to do that?" A snort at Joey's last comment. "Oh, fuck off, I'm not that old." One would never guess it to look at his donut habit, but he does keep himself in good shape. A remnant, perhaps, of his regimen in the military.

Joey nods slowly and puts his phone away. "I got a lot of guys owe me a favor in other labor unions. Lemme know if he wants to work on trade or what or in cash. I'm flexible." And apparently liquid now. If he's got to burn through that taking care of someone else's building and safety concerns so be it.

He takes another bite of his ribs with a shrug, "Why wouldn't we want to?" When told to fuck off there's a rare, but honest grin. Apparently Joey's taken stock of the condition or wouldn't have asked. "Fuck if I didn't see you in there balls clenched, guns blazing, having the fucking time of your god forsaken life just like I was. We were mad as hell and it felt great. You might not want to say it, but you know it. And? They gave us the soup so what do we care? "

Sharp teeth tear into cooked flesh like the savage in bluejeans he is, letting him mull that over. "Sides, if I know anything about you at all, you wanna know what they can do and what they got as much as I do. Only one way to find out is test em. Cause I wanna know what kinda firepower they're packing just like they're doing to us so why the fuck not? Sides, probably figuring out what we need. Everyone wants to go oh hey it's different and spooky but we're benefiting."

Pausing he admits, though he doesn't want to acknowledge that the absence hurts, but it does. "Poe's out, but Jaime's in. He's a good hunter. Knows how not to get hit."

A grunt in assent for Joey's offer of a trade, a way to make this worth the guy's while. He might take him up on it, or he might not. That they'll find a way to work it out, goes without saying.

"I was trying not to fucking die. Or let your scrawny ass get killed before I'm done with you." Joey's not scrawny in the slightest, but that is beside the point. The surly Mexican takes a couple more bites out of his burger while he contemplates what the younger man said. Then, "Yeah. I'd like more intel on what the fuck they're about. Doesn't mean we go running in there unprepared with our dicks out, though. Jaime's your twin, right? I don't know shit about him. What about Easton Marshall?" Trust a Marine to pull in one of his own.

"Done with me? Cap, you ain't even start with me." The grin holds, and really it was true that he got hit because he put himself in a position to get hit. "Had to risk my damn career to make sure your ancient ass didn't wind up to too many holes in it.

He shrugs, "I dunno shit about Easton Marshall other than he's emotional, driven, and is still putting himself back together. I don't know it's a good idea to put someone who is gonna react on emotion rather than reason in that situation. Especially someone still going through PT. I don't wanna do that to him. Jaime? Jaime's good. Deadeye with a rifle. So yeah. Thinking preparing. Besides, way things keep looking we're gonna be doing a lot of working the future anyways and I need someone who can be fucking trusted to be reasonable doing what it is you do."

There's a pause and he admits, the rib bone circling.... "Don't die." Not really an admission but there was a fear there.

The cop chuckles, murmurs low, "Maldita sea la derecha." The rest of his food is pushed away, and the next time the waitress stops by and asks if he's done, he nods absently. "Marshall can be trusted in a firefight. Period. You fucking questioning my judgement?" His dark eyes narrow a fraction as he gazes across at the younger man. "And like I said, I don't know shit about your brother. What's he do, he's such a deadeye with a rifle?" He sips his coffee while he waits for the answer to that.

Joey boggles and looks at the waitress, "Sec" and from there takes the last of the fries on principle. He nods. NOW it can go. There's a pause ad he just blinks at Ruiz waving a hand at the outside in that look where you are gesture. "He's a hunter. He hunts. Ever since we was kids and we had to come up with food for the table. He can peg a rabbit bolting at 90 yards. That aside? Truck driver, and a pretty damn good dad."

He considers and says with a deep breath, "Were it not for Lilith my ass would still be planted in the ground because let's be real; anything that makes Felix's life better doesn't seem to be on the top of other people's priorities. I get it and I ain't even mad. But out of the two of us? I'm the one who needs to be more concerned here. No one's gonna let a fucking cop die, Hoss. You know that. I know that. Hell I won't even. me? This town won't miss, so yeah I'm a lil selective here, but if you say he's good for it I can write down some alternates here. Way I hear it he won't have the time cause he and Byron are busy busy"

The appropriation of cold, greasy fries gains a roll of de la Vega's eyes. But by this point he's slid his phone back over, and is swiping out a message while he distractedly listens to Joey talk, so he's not as focused on being annoyed as he could be. "Game hunter and truck driver?" He sends Joey a dubious look over the top of his phone. "Doesn't fucking sound like A game material here, Kelly." But it's not a no, either. And, "I'm not going to let you die. I think you're forgetting how many rounds I held that thing off for you so you could get some hits in. So cut it with that bullshit." Tap, tap, tap on his phone.

Joey shakes his head and eases back in the booth. One hand upturns answering, "Like I said, you ain't the one I'm worried about. This is't bullshit, it's fact. Probably, all things considered, a good one. I'd be very concerned if it was the other way around. So,"

So. The eyebrow arches and waits for Ruiz to catch up on a ll the thing not being said. "Jaim's taken care of more than his share of weird shit. Don't you be worrying about my brother. So... you in or what?"

Another snort as the cop shoves his phone away, and digs out some cash to pay for their food. Looks like he's covering Joey's today. "Well, if you'll vouch for him, then I'll just take it out of your damned hide if he fucks up." He dimples a smile at the younger man, and finishes off his coffee. "Let me know when you're thinking of doing this? I'll have to book some time off work." Sounds like a yes?

Joey watches thought eh bills hitting the table doesn't go unnoticed nor refuted. A nod is the thanks for such. They're not really men of a lot of words. Actions though? sure. Looking up to him there's a pause and his tongue tracing his lower lip, cracked from the cold and a recent-ish fight, "Hey, glad you're breathing. Keep it up cause I don't have the time to fill in a damn replacement." Concern from the concrete kingdom. "Thanks for the mason too. I'll give em a call tomorrow."

"Just let him know I sent you," murmurs de la Vega, and reaches across the table to clap Joey on the shoulder as he rises. A chuckle at the keep breathing, though he doesn't make any promises. How could he, being a peacekeeper in a town like this? "Stay out of trouble," is mumbled without any bite, or intent to actually back that up. And then he's headed off without further ado.

Joey admits to Ruiz looking up at him with that respect reserved for few. Really is like looking at his future self in 15 years, just... on the wrong damn side of things. Or maybe he is. "Yeah, I'll try to keep it from being Lord of the fucking Flies, hoss." He lets Ruiz take off while he stays int eh booth and calls the mason referred and finish his (now) complimentary coke.