Post by theconspiracy on Jun 27, 2017 10:42:28 GMT
*FLASHBACK*
Andreas sits in a holding cell, staring at the ceiling. Another inmate sits across from him. A squirrelly little man, with a couple gold teeth. He's dressed in a white tank top, and black dress pants. His feet are bare, and dirty. He smooths out the top of his hair, running his fingers through it. An undercut, longer than it should be on the top. His beard and hair, both a dull ginger. He twirls a gold coin between his knuckles. He speaks up, his thick Irish accent piercing the air.
: What've you done?
Andreas shakes his head.
AL: Enough to land me in here, obviously.
The ginger laughs, and flicks the gold coin into the air.
: Well I suppose that's true of all of us.
Andreas nods.
AL: Why are you here?
The ginger shrugs, catches the coin, and presses it between his palms.
: Cops thought I was something I'm not.
AL: And what was that?
The ginger flicks the gold coin again.
: A thief.
He catches the coin, and ponders for a second.
: More specifically, your average run of the mill thief.
Andreas looks at the man for the first time, and squints.
AL: Care to elaborate?
The ginger shrugs.
: Not really.
Andreas nods and looks back up to the ceiling.
: However, you, are physically intimidating, and I could use all the friends I can get. So in that case, allow me to elaborate. Catch.
The ginger flicks the coin at Andreas, and Andreas instinctively catches it. He inspects the coin. It looks old, almost as old as--
: Old as the castles my ancestors were born in.
The ginger smiles, and motions to Andreas.
: Keep it.
AL: Don't you need this?
The ginger chuckles.
: I can always get more.
With a swift movement, the ginger snaps out his arm, as if to grab something. He opens his hand, and inside is another, identical gold coin. He places it on the bench beside him. He snatches again, and reveals another. He opens his arms, and shrugs. Andreas stares at the ginger, baffled. He leans forward, struggling to get words out.
: They thought I stole them. When they asked how I--
AL: You just-- you just fucking--
: Plucked them out of thin air.
Andreas leans back.
AL: Yeah.
: So I told him, I plucked them--
The ginger snatches his hand out, and grabs another coin.
: Out of fookin' thin air. And they didn't believe me, so they bunched me up in the back of the car and brought me here.
Andreas shakes his head.
AL: This makes no fucking sense.
: Not to you, big man. You're just not used to it. What's your name anyways?
AL: Andreas, Landa.
The ginger extends a hand.
: Patrick. Or Pat. Or Patches. Depends on when you've first met me, but for you I guess it's just up to preference.
Pat slaps his own forehead.
PH: Last name, I'm an idiot. Haarken. Pat Haarken.
He extends his hand to Andreas again. Andreas leans forward and shakes his hand.
PH: Now, what have they decided to do with you? See, I'm getting deported, although they didn't tell me where, which I found conspicuous. It's not back to Ireland, I can tell you that. They banned me from there years ago. But you, you're from this country. They've gotta do something with you.
AL: They didn't say.
Pat cocks his head sideways.
PH: So they've just chucked you in here, no word of what their plans are.
AL: They're sending me somewhere. They said I'd be shipped off in the morning.
Pat nods. He smirks before picking up a coin off the bench, and twirling it between his fingers.
PH: That means you're going to the airport.
AL: I guess.
PH: I'm going to the airport tomorrow.
AL: How convenient.
Pat chuckles. The buzzer sounds, and Pat stands up.
PH: I hope the crate they put you in has enough room for both of us.
He extends his hands out the door, an officer walks by, and cuffs him, before escorting him down the hallway.
Andreas sits in a holding cell, staring at the ceiling. Another inmate sits across from him. A squirrelly little man, with a couple gold teeth. He's dressed in a white tank top, and black dress pants. His feet are bare, and dirty. He smooths out the top of his hair, running his fingers through it. An undercut, longer than it should be on the top. His beard and hair, both a dull ginger. He twirls a gold coin between his knuckles. He speaks up, his thick Irish accent piercing the air.
: What've you done?Andreas shakes his head.
AL: Enough to land me in here, obviously.
The ginger laughs, and flicks the gold coin into the air.
: Well I suppose that's true of all of us.Andreas nods.
AL: Why are you here?
The ginger shrugs, catches the coin, and presses it between his palms.
: Cops thought I was something I'm not.AL: And what was that?
The ginger flicks the gold coin again.
: A thief.He catches the coin, and ponders for a second.
: More specifically, your average run of the mill thief.Andreas looks at the man for the first time, and squints.
AL: Care to elaborate?
The ginger shrugs.
: Not really.Andreas nods and looks back up to the ceiling.
: However, you, are physically intimidating, and I could use all the friends I can get. So in that case, allow me to elaborate. Catch.The ginger flicks the coin at Andreas, and Andreas instinctively catches it. He inspects the coin. It looks old, almost as old as--
: Old as the castles my ancestors were born in.The ginger smiles, and motions to Andreas.
: Keep it.AL: Don't you need this?
The ginger chuckles.
: I can always get more.With a swift movement, the ginger snaps out his arm, as if to grab something. He opens his hand, and inside is another, identical gold coin. He places it on the bench beside him. He snatches again, and reveals another. He opens his arms, and shrugs. Andreas stares at the ginger, baffled. He leans forward, struggling to get words out.
: They thought I stole them. When they asked how I--AL: You just-- you just fucking--
: Plucked them out of thin air.Andreas leans back.
AL: Yeah.
: So I told him, I plucked them--The ginger snatches his hand out, and grabs another coin.
: Out of fookin' thin air. And they didn't believe me, so they bunched me up in the back of the car and brought me here.Andreas shakes his head.
AL: This makes no fucking sense.
: Not to you, big man. You're just not used to it. What's your name anyways?AL: Andreas, Landa.
The ginger extends a hand.
: Patrick. Or Pat. Or Patches. Depends on when you've first met me, but for you I guess it's just up to preference.Pat slaps his own forehead.
PH: Last name, I'm an idiot. Haarken. Pat Haarken.
He extends his hand to Andreas again. Andreas leans forward and shakes his hand.
PH: Now, what have they decided to do with you? See, I'm getting deported, although they didn't tell me where, which I found conspicuous. It's not back to Ireland, I can tell you that. They banned me from there years ago. But you, you're from this country. They've gotta do something with you.
AL: They didn't say.
Pat cocks his head sideways.
PH: So they've just chucked you in here, no word of what their plans are.
AL: They're sending me somewhere. They said I'd be shipped off in the morning.
Pat nods. He smirks before picking up a coin off the bench, and twirling it between his fingers.
PH: That means you're going to the airport.
AL: I guess.
PH: I'm going to the airport tomorrow.
AL: How convenient.
Pat chuckles. The buzzer sounds, and Pat stands up.
PH: I hope the crate they put you in has enough room for both of us.
He extends his hands out the door, an officer walks by, and cuffs him, before escorting him down the hallway.
