ticktockgrin | Negotiations With Teeth

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Negotiations With Teeth

Dwayne hates this part of the act. He's pulled just about every con in the game at some time or another, some of them enough times to do them blind without a moment's warning, but this one? It never gets easier, even with the amount of trust involved.

Art items, money, contraband luxuries of all sorts, even drugs and weapons? Sure. Humans? That's one thing he can't stomach.

Next to him, Mira is just as calm as he is, probably calmer because she knows the lock on her silver collar has a quick-release that will let her get it off in half a second.

She's the quickest shifter he knows, maybe because she was turned so young. She's still too damn young... But that's what makes this work so well. The fact that she can do this without losing her shit. After all she's been through she can do the job, control her wolf, and still be rational, reliable, able to have a life outside the perversion and submission that defined her teen years? It's kind of amazing.

She can hold her own, both physically and emotionally, and he can control her if things go bad. Combined with his middle-aged, refined demeanor? They make a good team, and the pack has a lot of faith in them for taking down yet another slave dealer.

He still hates it. But he smiles anyway, genial, professional, and harmless in spite of the huge boxer's build filling out his tailored suit, copper-penny hair and beard trimmed close and neat and not showing even a hint of gray in spite of his forty-five years. A middle-aged businessman, not even a bit out of place in an upscale hotel where a little money buys a lot of discretion.

And the slender young brunette with him? Well, everyone has their indulgences, and all it takes is the right price.

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Mostly Josh is ridiculously relieved that he hadn't actually let that girl go helplessly into a life of slavery and abuse... it's only a secondary consideration to be glad he's not going to end up crippled or dead in a ditch somewhere. Which is possibly not a particularly healthy outlook on the situation, but it is what it is.

"Yeah, there, uh, seem to be a lot of similarities." He huffs a quiet laugh, that's maybe a little uncharacteristically bitter. "And more rules can't really be a bad thing." Not with that crowd. "Don't get caught's always the best one."

He tips a cockeyed smile at Dwayne and rubs his free hand over the thigh of his jeans before taking another careful sip of ginger ale. He's... just a bit queasy, so taking it easy is best. "I'm pretty good at stepping soft around people who need it, and I don't rile easy. Don't expect you to take my word on it."

He follows Dwayne's gaze to his phone then looks back to meet his eyes, smile widening a bit. He hadn't really expected that level of trust. "Thanks, that'll be a load off." He pushes up to his feet and staggers slightly, catching himself on the bedside table and leaning there for a second as the world steadies around him and his head pounds. "Damn, man, you pack a pretty good punch." He doesn't sound particularly bothered by the observation, and he straightens carefully and looks at Dwayne again, smile stretching wider still even though he's clearly a little bit unsteady on his feet. "For an old guy," he adds, the smile turning into a teasing smirk.

Dwayne can't help but grin a little bit at the compliment. Oh, if only the kid knew, but to be completely fair with himself. "Ex-Army. Gotta stay in shape if you're going to stay in this business and not get eaten. You pack a pretty good punch yourself." He winces, remembering just how close he got to getting his wedding tackle rearranged. "Sorry to have to put you down like that, but they would have shot you first and worried about cleaning up the mess later." He frowns. "Probably with a shower curtain and some hefty bags, depending on how much they thought you'd be missed." Dwayne was still betting on a savage beating as a lesson, since Josh hadn't seen too much and was flashing around enough money to make it seem like he was important enough that his disappearance would be noticed, but still...not a guarantee. "Just take it easy, you did take a knock to the head, and we have time. This is the waiting game, now, so we can take a bit, get ourselves in order."

He has no doubt that Josh, with that boyish face, can do charming and harmless in spite of his size just as easily as he can do rampaging bull. It's a good quality to have, especially when his size alone is intimidating as hell. Dwayne's used the same ploy himself, the genial redhead who just happens to be built like a linebacker.

He snorts, at that last comment. "And I'm not that old." He pauses, reconsidering. "Okay, maybe old enough that I'd like to start looking forward to my retirement, but I also plan to be young enough to enjoy it when I get there." Fifty-five is good, he thinks. Fifty-five is a good age to throw in the towel. Maybe fifty if things go well and he doesn't think he'll get bored. He looks around forty, but he's closer to fifty, probably because he was already in his mid-thirties when he was turned and the lycanthropy virus isn't quite as assertive when it gets hold that late in life. So he's heard, at least. It still does a pretty damn good job of keeping him alive and in good shape, so he can't complain.

Josh grimaces and flushes a little. "Um, yeah, sorry about your junk," he offers sheepishly. "And thanks. For not letting them haul me out to the alley and kneecap me." Or worse. He's well aware it could have easily been much worse than that', which he'd been willing to accept at the time, but is more than pleased, in retrospect, to have not had to endure, and he gives Dwayne another grin. The kind that makes him look considerably younger than his twenty-seven years and a lot less intimidating than his size should dictate.

"Not a lotta guys can put me down like that." It doesn't sound nearly as arrogant as that kind of statement could, but then it's pretty clear there simply aren't a a lot of guys who fight in Josh's weight class, and almost none of them move the way he does. He's ridiculously light on his feet for the giant of a man he is, and if Dwayne had been any slower or weaker things probably would have gone a completely different direction. Possibly a direction involving guns and hefty bags, so all's well that ends well... ish.

"An' I'm good, just need a sec." He waves a hand and shifts his weight again, making sure his balance is good. It's not like he isn't well aware he's concussed, he's had enough of them in his life to be more than familiar with the experience, but he figures this one's not bad enough to slow him down much or for long. He manages the couple steps to his phone just fine, though he is careful about bending to retrieve it. "Don't worry." And there's that smirk back as he glances up at Dwayne before heading back to the bed. He'll just... make his call while sitting, thanks. "You're plenty hot even if you are well into 'don't trust anyone over thirty' territory."

"If you'd been a bit more of a bastard or I'd been a bit less of one, I'd have been worried," Dwayne says, perfectly seriously. He glances down at his crotch, wincing just a little bit. At Josh's size, he's allowed to be a bit confident in that regard, because if Dwayne had been any smaller, werewolf or not, he would have been hedging his bets. As it is, he's lucky he's heavier and stronger than even his solid build suggests. Secret ace in the hole saves his ass again, and yes, he will be keeping it secret for...well, as long as he fairly can.

The fact that Dwayne turns into a two-hundred-plus pound timber wolf on his days off is a need-to-know basis. Josh doesn't, yet.

He rolls his shoulders, working the kinks out. The fact that Josh is up and moving is a good sign. He seems to know his body's limits, has been roughed up enough times to know when he can keep going and when to just lay back down, so Dwayne figures he can trust him enough to say he's good to go. He'll still be keeping an eye on Josh for signs of more damage than just a little roughing up, and if anything alarming turns up, then he'll change the plans to involve a doctor (under the table, of course).

And at that last, Dwayne has to laugh. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he says, genuinely pleased with the compliment but doing his best to look at least a little coy, smoothing his neatly clipped beard smugly. "I like to think I've got the 'over forty' category nailed, too." He knows he's in good shape, but it's not every day that he gets to hear it from an attractive young (much younger) man, and damn right he's going to bask in it a little bit.

Then he smiles just a bit, the corner of his mouth tilting in wry amusement. "And since we aren't finishing up this trip with you shoved in the trunk of my car, I think you can probably call me Dwayne, by the way."

"Yeah, well-" Josh huffs, head ducking slightly as he keeps grinning. Apparently he really doesn't hold a grudge... but then, between them he figures Dwayne would be the one entitled to given he got punched in the nuts. "Glad I didn't do any lasting damage." And damn glad that Dwayne hadn't either... and if Josh had any clue what Dwayne's hiding he'd be damn impressed with his restraint and control, too. He knows just how much stronger weres are than humans.

Josh echoes Dwayne's laugh, easy and warm despite the circumstances. He's nothing if not good at rolling with the punches, literal or figurative. "Yeah? I'll keep that in mind." And it won't exactly be a hardship, given how appealing that self-satisfied, smug look is on the big ginger... and the fact that Josh tends to flirt like breathing, even if he rarely means for it to go anywhere.

He huffs out another laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners and shoulders shaking... then winces slightly and presses a hand to his head. "Ouch." He scrubs the hand down his face then drops it again and fiddles with his phone, smile back in place already. "Well, I can think of plenty of places I wouldn't mind you shoving me, but the trunk of your car definitely isn't on the list." He winks teasingly, because why not? And it never hurts to make sure up front he's not saddling himself working with a homophobe, if he is hopefully they can find some way to end this, preferably still amicably, before things go any farther. "I'm Josh. Warner." Because he might get that out there up front as well, given his dad had an extensive and less than savory reputation.

"Hmph. Well, you and me both on that count. I'm not quite done with the set yet, thanks." Wild oats to sow and all that, right? He's old, not dead. Really. (Though wishing he were ten years younger right now, even if it's not particularly professional. It's not often that he runs into a guy that makes him feels small(ish), and it's an intriguing possibility, one he thinks under better circumstances, he might be interested in exploring...)

It's funny how things can settle down after the adrenaline dies. Once it's clear that it was a fight neither of them really wanted? That's good enough. Dwayne grins, shaking his head in amusement. Good to let off a little steam for both of them before they get down to business, especially since the waiting part of the game is always kind of tetchy. Relax a bit, get a feeling for each other, and just how far they can trust before it actually comes down to stress-testing.

The name doesn't ring any bells, being a pretty common surname anyway, but Dwayne has his own experiences with family he doesn't want to be associated with. Thankfully, he doesn't expect his brother to be showing his face anytime in the near or not-so-near future, but the mention of his younger sibling's name is enough to make him cringe, too. Josh might find him more forgiving than he expects. "If I get a choice in this business, I like a clean operation. Everyone gets paid, everyone walks away. There's a lot of backstabbing and bullshit, but that's not my preference. It's a business, just like anything else, and you can't work with people if there isn't some kind of trust, you know?" He smiles faintly, and shakes his head. "It's not exactly a clean business, but it doesn't have to be dirty, either. You can do this and still have some standards."

Because you can't swim in the same pool with these assholes and not come out a little dirty. Or already be dirty enough not to mind the water.

It's possibly a little disturbing how easy Josh is finding it to relax and accept Dwayne at face value after how things started off, but he really can't see any reason for the older man to be stringing him along at this point. And maybe he's too trusting, but if Dwayne really were on the wrong side of the line here he'd thoroughly expect to be dead or maimed by now. There just isn't anything to be gained by wasting time on him like this; unless the man's hoping to ferret out his contacts, but Josh won't be giving those up until he's one hundred percent sure of Dwayne. And so long as it's just his own hide he's risking... he's feeling pretty good about it, especially with the man's little side trip into his business philosophy.

"Yeah, well, I was there to buy a person, I definitely get how you can't do this and come out clean." He shifts his shoulders a little, and it's fairly clear that he's not exactly enthused about that fact, but- "It's the only way to do it, right now, anyway. Buy them or break them out. And we don't have the resources for breakouts." There are people willing to pay to help wolves find freedom, but it's a lot harder to find people willing to potentially risk their lives or livelihoods for it. "Bit more than a business, though... isn't it?" He looks older this way, somber and intense, though even now there's the hint of a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, like it's such a natural default expression that his face wants to go there regardless. "Doesn't seem like you can really be in this to make a profit."

"And... I should make that call." It's to a burner phone, so he doesn't have to worry about it being traced and his people tracked, and the conversation, when the call's picked up, is short and cryptic. No names, no identifying information, and nothing about Dwayne and his operation either. Just the bare minimum to assure them that he's safe and expects to stay that way, and he'll get back in touch when he can, hopefully with more intel. The man on the other end of the line doesn't sound exactly happy but he also doesn't argue, and Josh puts the phone down on the night stand and takes another sip of ginger ale. "I assume you're gonna want to keep a hold on that for a while?"

Smart kid. of course Dwayne is looking to find out who else is running operations in the area, though not necessarily with ill intentions. If anything, they could be helpful, with the proper backing and coordination, or simply another friendly connection in the network that Dwayne's own operation relies so much on. Just because he has ulterior motives, that doesn't mean that they're harmful motives.

"It's a mess, it really is. Having to work outside the law is both a curse and an advantage, but you have to play it so damn carefully. Especially since the wolves themselves don't know who to trust. They have no reason to trust us." He says it without blinking, a flawless lie. Mingled with just enough of the truth, of course, to make it accurate. "You put what you can into it. Sometimes, you do turn a profit, mostly by accident...and no, nothing that the IRS ever hears about, either...but it goes right back into replacing what resources you've already burned just to keep the operations going." He shrugs his broad shoulders, clearly used to this method of operations. Not that it's so different from any guerrilla organization...which it's clear that Josh has done enough to understand.

Dwayne smiles, a little grimly, as he takes the phone back. "Just to be on the safe side, yeah. I'll let you check in again, though, just so your buddies know you're still kicking." He might be personable and friendly, willing to talk, but Josh is still his prisoner. Better for both their skins if Dwayne keeps control of the situation. The lines around his mouth and eyes ease, though, now that it seems clear that Josh is willing to stick around willingly. This doesn't have to be a disaster, and Dwayne feels his chest loosen. An interested apprentice is a hell of a lot better than a prisoner, even if he still has to keep a close eye on him. "Don't worry, if I'm going to keep you hostage, I'll take decent care of you. Keep you fed and out of trouble...hopefully." That wry smile again and a slight lift of coppery eyebrows, as he glances toward the locked hotel-room door. As much as Josh will let him, at least.

Contacts and allies would be great, and Josh is pretty confident he hasn't made a huge mistake and Dwayne is on the up and up, but it's not his decision whether or not to expose the people he works with. For now, having Josh and being able to be sure he hasn't passed on any confidential information about his organization is going to have to be enough for Dwayne.

"I wouldn't trust us, under the circumstances," he admits sadly. "They've been betrayed by humans too many times for it to be a rational risk." And, of course, a lot of them have been betrayed by their own kind as well, which is probably the saddest part. Josh has heard of alphas who turn human kids just for the profit of selling them on into slavery, and the reports have been too widespread and well-supported to disbelieve. "It's all a shitshow from beginning to end." And god, it makes him sick to even think about, let alone be involved in, but... someone has to help these people, and he figures he owes a debt he can't ever repay given how much of the money that supported him his last couple years with his dad probably came from this business.

"Thanks." He puts the soda down and lets his hands dangle between his knees. "They won't freak out unless they don't hear from me in more than a couple days," he admits, because he really is going to do his best to cooperate and make things run smoothly. His own smile had slipped, lost with the subject matter... and his own vague disorientation from what's thankfully just a mild concussion, but it comes back in answer to Dwayne's own. And the intriguing lift of his eyebrows. "I dunno." His smile shifts just about to a full blown grin as he floows Dwayne's glance to the door then looks back to the older man. "Staying out of trouble isn't nearly as much fun as getting into the right kind."

That's only fair: Dwayne is the face-man for a lot of people in his own organization that would rather stay hidden. He's got resources and defenses and he's willing to take the risk, but plenty of others aren't...and he wouldn't ask them to.

Especially when they've been sold out by their own kind. Alphas selling their own is something that Dwayne has seen first-hand, and more other atrocities than he'd like to think about. Just as much of his network is about giving the refugees a place to go, as about fighting them free, anyway, so every bit of help, whether it's a gun at his side in a fight or just a check passed quietly along in an envelope is needed and welcome.

"Throwing in a wild card like lycanthropy doesn't change the fact that people will do horrible shit to each other," he says, shaking his head. "Even their own so-called families." The scars on his leg are a cold reminder of that. "Having both humans and shifters working with us helps, though. We take whatever help we can get, and we...mostly get along. Trust doesn't always come easy, but, well...considering what we're working with? That's pretty much a given." He reaches up to smooth down his short copper hair, cut nearly military-short. Some habits die hard, though if he were really keeping the military habits he'd be clean-shaven, too. He likes the beard, though- and not just because he can shave it off to change his look in a hurry if he has to.

And he raises eyebrows at Josh's grin, tilting his head. "The only problem is that the 'right kind' of trouble is kind of a random draw against 'oh shit', 'oh hell no', and 'this again?'" He does smile a bit, though, responding to that grin with some humor of his own. He wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't used to trouble.

Plus, he likes the light in Josh, if it's sincere. He wants it to be genuine, even if it's tempered by the realism that years of life experience has given him. He rolls his shoulders, stretching, and sighs. This has turned out to be a longer day than he expected, but it's still workable. Maybe better than workable, if it turns out well. "We might be waiting a few days, so we'll see what happens, but you'll get your check-ins," he says, already going over the timeline in his head. Mira will need a couple of days to work, and unless things go horribly wrong, he doubts he'll hear back from her sooner than twenty-four hours. It might be much longer, depending on how long she needs to get a full account of the property and put together a plan. "In the meantime, we lay low and wait to get called in, mainly, and you take care of that knock on the head. So pretty much, staying out of trouble, because keeping you locked up in the storage shed so you don't blow the whole mission is still Plan B." He gives a wry smile, copper eyebrows raised.

Which doesn't mean that he means it any less. If sitting on Josh- literally, if need be- means getting the operation done without anyone getting killed, then Dwayne is perfectly happy to do it.

Josh likes the way Dwayne talks about what he's doing, how he's matter of fact without whitewashing the ugly truths of it. Trust is hard to come by, but he's either a really gifted liar or he's managed to put together (or fall in with, though there's something about him that makes Josh think it's more likly the former) an organization that's making it work. Josh knows how hard that is to manage: the group he's working with is entirely human precisely because they haven't managed to build that kind of trust. Yet, he hopes.

"Yeah, well-" He sighs and lets his gaze drop again. He's tired and sore and it's getting hard to focus. "Seems like the other kinda trouble's pretty much inevitable." At least it always seems to have been in his life... which has still been so much better, beginning to end, than the people they're talking about. "Nice to at least think about the good kind from time to time."

He scrubs a hand through his own shaggy hair, careful to avoid the knot from where Dwayne took him down, and looks back up at him, somber again. "If that's what you gotta do to make it work." He shrugs and chews at his upper lip for a moment, frowning and tense, trying not to think of the girl and what she's been taken back to. The others who are probably there going through varying degrees of hell as well. He'd been willing to leave this place in a body bag if that's what it would have taken to get her free of that, and he hadn't been bluffing. Not after seeing her, not knowing the kind of life a slave in that bastard's hands could expect. "I don't care how it has to happen. If I can help, fine, if you need me locked down, fine, just... get them the hell outa there, yeah?"

Hell. Is he picking himself up an apprentice? He's not sure, but a potential ally is much better than a potential complication. After the meet, he's way too tired to deal with loose ends and headaches, so if Josh is sincere? He'll take it. He seems to be, too- Dwayne's been a con for way too many years to think that this is all bullshit, and combined with the fact that Josh smells earnest (and pretty damn good, actually, warm and fresh and masculine under the stink of worry and fear), he can deal with this much. The only way Dwayne can cope with the job himself is to be honest, both with himself and with the people he deals with, so he's not quite as cynical as he would otherwise be. Small favors, because he's seen what happens when the job starts taking over, for guys on both sides of the law.

"She's smart, and she's got a panic button. Waiting a couple days for her to get her part done is the hard part, but she's good at it," Dwayne says quietly. He has his own doubts about the way they operate, but they do what they have to. "Not every job goes the same, either. I hate sending her in like this, too, but all my other ideas just weren't going to work for this, so she stepped up." He gets to his feet, dumping the empty ginger ale can in the trash and stretching. Even if he gets another hundred years of prime health out of this body, he still feels too damn old for this sometimes.

"And since I was the one that clocked you, I figure the least I can do is get you straightened out and taken care of. Even if I have to sit on you for a few days, I'll make sure you've got everything you need and it's not too horrible." He quirks a faint smile. Josh might be sitting in a tiny basement apartment with no windows and nothing but bad sitcoms, but the bed will be clean and the food will be decent, and that's not so bad. Dwayne pauses and tilts a critical head at Josh, pondering the young man for a few moments.

"I've got a few calls to make and we're going to be sitting tight for a bit anyway, so if you want to go ahead and wash up a bit, then lay down, that'd probably be a good idea." Dwayne rubs his hands over the front of his slacks again, smoothing them down. The hard part is over, for now, but he's still not done. People to check in with and update, a safe house to arrange, little details of running a job that he needs to tend to before he can settle into the waiting part of the game. Some of where he is has in fact happened completely by accident, but that doesn't mean he relies on chance for anything he can possibly control.

It helps, at least some, the idea that she volunteered. That she went in with her eyes open and fully aware of what she was getting into for a cause she believes in. And that she has a panic button. And that Dwayne obviously cares. Not enough, given what Josh knows of the bastard who bought her, but some. And he's not all that bothered by the prospect of Dwayne sitting on him for a few days. He doesn't have anywhere to be, and if Dwayne wanted him dead or incapacitated he would be by now. So sitting tight, learning anything he can... and maybe making himself useful when the time comes, if that's possible, sounds like a pretty good idea to him. Especially since he'd really just as soon not have to do any serious navigating right now if he can avoid it, because mean his head hurts. And, hey, the company seems likely to be decent, and the view's definitely good.

"Yeah, both of those sound good." A nap sounds kind of awesome too, but that's probably something he should avoid, at least few a few hours. Dwayne rang his chimes pretty darn good. He cocks his head slightly, then thinks better of it as the room starts to swim. "You, uh, need me to camp out in the bathroom with the water running for a while or something?" Because Josh doesn't imagine the guy wants to risk exposing his contacts any more than he's willing to. But there's a definite limit to how long he's going to be able to remain upright and stable, so having some kind of time frame in mind would help if it's an issue.

"And... you wouldn't happen to have some sweats or anything I could borrow, would you?" Because he supposes the suit's nice enough and all, but it's really not his style and it definitely doesn't seem likely to be comfortable for laying around in... and he'd really rather not strip down to just his boxer briefs. So, yeah, borrowing clothes would be good. If at all possible.

It's not ideal, but it's what they have and it's Mira's choice to make the sacrifice. All Dwayne can do is make sure she has the best safety net possible, and honestly? He wonders how Josh would feel about the whole thing knowing how many people the petite werewolf has killed. It's certainly a few more than Dwayne is actually comfortable with, but given the circumstances...he can't exactly feel bad about that kill count, either.

Dwayne tilts his head inquisitively at Josh, then leans over to peer in his eyes. He wouldn't dare do this with another wolf, but he feels confident that he's got control of the situation, here. He meets Josh's eyes with his own cobalt-blue, searching them for signs of damage.

"If you aren't throwing up and the headache is manageable, you can nap if you want," he says after a moment of inspection. The kid's pupils look okay, so he probably didn't hit him that hard. He'll watch for symptoms, obviously, but letting him lay down is likely safe. "Washing up might not be a bad idea, but easier to just text, so if you don't feel like being on your feet just yet, that's okay."

There's still some ice in the bucket from earlier, and it's easy to just knot the plastic bag closed. Fresh will have to wait, but it's still cold enough to be welcome. He hands it to Josh, then gives him a long head-to-toe look. Purely for practical reasons, though it's not like he minds the view. Dwayne runs into a lot of guys in his weight class in this line of work, given the number of bruisers around, but Josh blows right past that and that is kind of intriguing. Inconvenient, in this case, but intriguing. "I think I can manage to get something at the crash house," he says. "Suit's not ideal for getting around without attracting attention, anyway, so we'll add that to the list of things to take care of, no worries." He gazes around the room, then at Josh again.

"Yeah, go ahead and wash up some. I'll get this done as quick as possible, then you can come back and lay down for a little while before we leave. I expect to be here at least a couple of hours before moving." He smiles faintly, and rubs at his beard with the backs of his knuckles. "I trust you not to go out the window. Well, actually, I trust you not to fit out the window, and that's close enough, right?"

Josh sits still and lets Dwayne make his inspection... and maybe has himself a nice, long look at a pair of very pretty eyes, so it's not a bad trade, really. "Yeah, I've had plenty worse. This one's not too bad, really." He shrugs, massive shoulders twitching up and down, and one side of his mouth twitches up into a cockeyed half-smile as he takes the ice bag and holds it gingerly to the knot on his head. He winces a little at the initial contact, but it definitely feels good after that.

"Yeah, that too. An' it's not like I don't stand out plenty already." No point pretending otherwise, after all, and he actually sounds a bit apologetic, though it's not like he has any control over it. There aren't a hell of a lot of men his size in the world outside of professional sports, after all, and he tends to attract a fair amount of rubbernecking.

"Sounds like a plan." When he pushes back to his feet this time he's a little steadier, though he sways for a second before he catches his balance. He takes a moment to shrug off the suit coat and lay it at the foot of the bed, then follow it with the tie, and he feels more comfortable immediately. He's really not the suit and tie type. He huffs a laugh, followed by a quick wince, and smiles sheepishly at Dwayne. "Yeah, kinda outgrew escaping out bathroom windows by the time I was sixteen or so. Sneaky takes me a bit more effort than most." But he manages it just fine when he has to... he just doesn't include things like bathroom windows in his potential escape routes when making alternate plans. "Just rap on the door when you're ready for me to come out," he advises, before slipping through said door and closing it behind him. He's really looking forward to washing away some of the anxiety sweat from this whole clusterfuck.

"Not exactly a habit you want to get into, though," Dwayne points out. "There is a reason I quit boxing. You know, while I still had my brains and my pretty face." He's got the build for it, and it explains why he hits like a truck full of smaller trucks.

He shrugs, as Josh gets used to the ice on his head. "It's more than just standing out. It's presentation, too. It's pretty amazing what you can get away with if you act like you belong there." He gives Josh a critical eye, head tilted thoughtfully. Huge, yeah, but...Dwayne could definitely work with him. He's got youth, that smile, and traditional good looks that would make it easy to put him in a few different roles besides just a legbreaker. Face it, in spite of his size, the guy's cute and could probably get a few more years out of it. "Well, okay. Acting like you belong there, and maybe a little hair dye." He runs a hand over his own hair, amused. "If I gave you a college jersey and a puppy? I bet I could sneak you in damn near anywhere."

Josh starts to get up, and Dwayne gives him room, once it looks like he's steady on his feet. "Feel free to use anything you need in there," he says with a nod, picking up his cell phone again.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It only takes Dwayne a little while to fire off a few texts and one brief conversation- with everything prearranged, it only takes a few check-ins to keep everything going smoothly. He even makes arrangements for a few things to be delivered to the crash-house, just to make things easier, and by the time he raps on the door to let Josh know he's done, he knows that there'll be some basic groceries and clothes waiting for them.

He's pretty damn sure that there's no way the kid squeezed out a narrow, beveled window on the fifth floor, and he's unlikely to try to shank him with a modified cardboard toilet paper tube, so he feels pretty secure with the whole thing. Just a knock loud enough to be heard over the running water, and "All set. We're going to be here a little longer, so no rush."

Boxing... yeah, he can see that easily, and it helps explain how light he is on his feet along with that pile driver punch he packs. "Yeah, cauliflower ears are no one's friend." He grimaces and shifts the ice a little; uncomfortable as it is, it's definitely helping, though, so he leaves it. "And neither is permanent brain damage, so I'm just gonna cross my fingers and hope I haven't lost more brain cells than I can spare." He shrugs, and there's that bright smile back.

He knows what Dwayne means about presentation, he actually had managed to mostly pull off looking like he belonged in that suit trying to buy himself a sex slave, after all... not that he's particularly proud of that success. "Think I'd make a good ginger?" He ducks his head and raises both eyebrows. And, yes, he knows exactly how adorable he looks doing it, though it's more a look he perfected for getting cookies off sweet old neighbor ladies or conning teachers into not calling the father who wasn't going to be there to answer the phone anyway, not so much for charming hot older guys. But, hey, adaptability's a gift, right?

"The puppy just might make that work," he agrees as he makes his careful way to the bathroom. "Keep me from having to talk to anyone about anything but how cute it is." God knows he couldn't talk about college, he figures faking being a spoiled rich brat is a heck of a lot easier than trying to pretend he knows anything about college, given he never even graduated high school.

Maybe he'll be able to get a few tips while they're stuck together, even if Dwayne doesn't decide to let him in on his operation. Guy's gotta have more than a few tricks up his sleeve, after all. But for now he needs to wash up a bit and let Dwayne take care of business... and that last offer has him regretting that it's just a hotel bathroom, doubtless full of samples, because he wouldn't mind being maybe just a little creepy and checking out the guy's aftershave.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Nice as a shower sounds, it seems kind of pointless when he'll just have to put the same clothes back on... and he's not really sure he's up to anything that strenuous anyway. So he settles for stripping off his now slightly limp button down and the t-shirt under it and giving himself a quick wipe down. It feels good to get rid of a layer of sweat and slick his hair back from his face, and when the knock comes he turns off the water and scrubs a towel over his damp hair before settling the towel over his shoulders and swinging the door open.

Josh is bare to the waist in well-tailored slacks, his belt hanging open and a rumpled undershirt dangling from one hand while his damp hair drips onto the towel on his shoulders. He leans against the door frame for a moment and settles his ice pack back in place. "Long enough for the nap, still?" he asks, because dang he's feeling like he could use it now. Even the idea of struggling back into his t-shirt, which is pretty much the only comfortable article of clothing he has right now, other than his underwear, isn't particularly appealing.

"Seems like you've got at least a few left that work well enough, though your altruism circuits might need a little fine-tuning." It's a gentle rib, though pointed- enthusiasm is good, blind enthusiasm gets people killed. He thinks Josh might be a good egg (he will be asking around, but he trusts his judgment pretty well), but young and a little idealistic. Balanced with some practicality, there might be a lot of potential there...though Dwayne isn't going to get that far ahead of himself just yet.

Dwayne smiles cryptically. He's a natural ginger, judging by the coppery hair that shows on his forearms. "I don't know, I think what you've got is pretty damn good. Red's not all it's cracked up to be...I wind up the face guy just because there's no missing me." The brown hair goes really well with that 'I'm adorable' face, wholesome and uncalculated.

-=-=-=-=-

Goddamn, he would have treated for dinner if he'd known he was getting a free show.

No perving on the kidnapping victim, he reminds himself mournfully as he takes in the view of Josh's upper body without a shirt, and the tease presented by the open belt. He's pretty sure Josh doesn't realize just how much older Dwayne is, but Dwayne figures...well, he can look a little, at least, without being a dirty old man. And considering he looks about ten years younger than he is...

Maybe they can talk about dinner, assuming this isn't too much of a disaster.

Dwayne clears his throat, doing his best not to stare at what's the most impressive set of abs he's seen in a very long time. "Would be a shame for the bed to go completely to waste" pops out before he can stop it, but he manages to smooth it over without missing a heartbeat. It's a king-sized bed and even just for sleeping, it's a luxury for guys their size to be able to actually stretch out. No harm done, right? "Go ahead and put your shirt up to air out, and catch a nap. I'm going to check a few more things-" he taps his phone- "and then I'll hold the fort here for a bit. Should have everything set at the safehouse by the time we get there, though."

He smiles crookedly, glancing at the bed and the bathroom again. "But...may as well enjoy the amenities while you can."

Josh can't help but flush a little at the pointed, if gentle, barb about his over-enthusiasm. He's not generally prone to over-commit that irrationally, he wouldn't still be around if he was, but something about that situation... it had just struck all the right (or wrong) chords. The thought of what that girl had waiting for her- He cuts off that train of thought as he retreats to the bathroom and sets about washing up, reminding himself that she knows what she's gotten herself into and she did it voluntarily. It helps. A little.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Normally Josh would be at least somewhat aware of his state of undress and the attention it's drawing, but he's just punchy enough still not to really notice or care. Not that he'd care even if he were operating at full capacity, or at least, not that he'd care in a bad way. He's been managing to enjoy the (sadly, fully clothed) view himself as it is, and the idea of the appreciation being reciprocated wouldn't go amiss.

Right now, though, it's the prospect of stretching out on that bed--a bed that'll actually accommodate his full height without having to curl into a ball or let his feet dangle off the end--that appeals the most. Though, man, at the comment about the bed his eyes flick back to Dwayne, quick enough that he wobbles a bit on his feet for just a moment, and he blinks a couple times before he cracks a cockeyed half smile. Because no way he's lucky enough the guy meant that the way it sorta sounded... and even if he did it's not really the time or place. Though, man, now his minds firmly in the gutter.

"Yeah, you paid for the room, I might as well get your money's worth, right?" And he drapes his shirt over the back of a chair before settling on the edge of the bed and then carefully stretching out. "Oh man, it's almost worth getting clocked to be able to stretch out without me feet hanging off the end." He directs another bright, almost boyish smile Dwayne's way, and it's pretty clear he's legitimately enthused about that simple luxury. But it's been a heck of a long time since he slept in a bed that's actually big enough for him, and there's no reason not to enjoy the simple pleasures when the opportunity arises.

He rolls carefully onto his side, ice pack abandoned for now, and his smile fades to something sleepy and warm. God he's tired. "Plenty of room if you finish up an' wanna crash for a while too," he murmurs, and his eyes are slipping shut as he pats the bed behind him in demonstration. "Be pretty tacky t'monopolize your bed an' all," he adds, but it's trailing off to the point of almost being a mumble... clearly he's either not worried about his safety around Dwayne, or he's just too tired and loopy to care still. Either way, he's asleep in pretty short order.

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Negotiations With Teeth

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