The Con (part one)
Jul. 15th, 2005 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
milliways_sawyerThis isn't his world, so this isn't the Karnes he knew... but he's similar enough to the lowlife from Sawyer's world to make it work. He's still a junkie who can't remember half the time if he actually knows you or not. He still wears those ugly-ass polyester suits ("They're vintage, man!") anytime he's out making a deal.
And, he still manages to be a man with connections, and Sawyer needs seed money for this con to work.
It's for that very important last reason that Sawyer is sitting in this bar that has the audacity to have the words "Best Food In Louisiana" blazing in neon outside. It's for that significant last reason that he's ignoring the combined odors of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and more bodily fluids than he cares to think about. It's for that oh-so-crucial last reason that he's stifling any comments about the equally nauseating bright orange shirt the other man is wearing with that baby blue suit.
Because he needs that folded slip of paper Karnes is sliding across the table to him. The paper with the name of a man who might be willing to fund the con.
Sawyer flips the note open with his thumb and reads the name and phone number printed there.
A nod, and he stands to go. He can't wait to get out of this dive that smells just as strongly of piss as it does of beer. Just a couple more weeks and a little luck, and he'll never have to walk into one of these places again.
And, he still manages to be a man with connections, and Sawyer needs seed money for this con to work.
It's for that very important last reason that Sawyer is sitting in this bar that has the audacity to have the words "Best Food In Louisiana" blazing in neon outside. It's for that significant last reason that he's ignoring the combined odors of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and more bodily fluids than he cares to think about. It's for that oh-so-crucial last reason that he's stifling any comments about the equally nauseating bright orange shirt the other man is wearing with that baby blue suit.
Because he needs that folded slip of paper Karnes is sliding across the table to him. The paper with the name of a man who might be willing to fund the con.
Sawyer flips the note open with his thumb and reads the name and phone number printed there.
A nod, and he stands to go. He can't wait to get out of this dive that smells just as strongly of piss as it does of beer. Just a couple more weeks and a little luck, and he'll never have to walk into one of these places again.
