*ೃ༄ 18+ mature!
[ RESERVOIR DOGS/PULP FICTION/MR PINK x OC ] Somewhere in LA, a diamond heist goes wrong. A robber is shot, innocent customers, cops, and civilians are injured or gunned down, and someone from the group is an undercover cop. But befo...
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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ❝Somewhere I Belong❞ - Gabor Szabo
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PINK RELUCTANTLY goes to the home address two days later, and it's a typical bungalow. As he approaches, he notices a greenhouse protruding from the backyard fence, piquing his curiosity. When Oz answers the door, there's already an unlit joint dangling from his mouth, carrying a laid-back vibe.
Pink could hear angels harmonizing in the sky. Not a cop.
"You finally decide to come to me for service! I would have thought that cashier, like, murdered you in that store or something. Come in." They step inside. "So John Doe. Did you come up with a name these past few days?" Oz inquires, a playful glint in his eyes.
Pink hesitates for a moment, realizing he hadn't actually considered coming up with an alias until now. "Richard Reese," he responds, choosing to stick with the tradition of using an alias in these situations. He inwardly cringes at the seemingly mundane name he settled for. Richard Reese? What am I, a greaser?
Oz hums in acknowledgment. "Richard Reese. I'll take it. Nice to meet you, Richard Reese." Oz gestures for him to sit on the couch.
Of course, you won't question it anymore, Pink said in his head. There's no way your Mom named you Oz. And Pink wouldn't question that out loud.
"Do you really approach potential customers the way you did with me?" Pink asks, getting comfortable in the cushions.
"Usually, they come to me," Oz explains, exhaling a plume of smoke. "But the bills are on my ass, and I can usually tell if someone's undercover or not. You obviously didn't strike me as one, so I approached you. Love the accent, by the way. It screams New Yorker. Reminded me a bit of Benji's, almost."
Pink's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait... you know Speed?"
"Benji? Yeah," Oz confirms, taking a long drag from the joint. "Wanna know something? He went on this huge tangent about his ex-girlfriend. He probably left L.A. as a last-ditch effort to get away from her. I can see why his name is Speed."
"Did he look like he was in a panic?"
"Not really." He offers the joint to Pink. "Want some, Richard Reese?"
Pink shakes his head. "I smoke Thai sticks."
Oz winces, clenching his teeth. "Already hit a speed bump there, man. We don't carry those. My assistant would probably have a mental breakdown trying to make them."
"What kind of dealer doesn't carry Thai sticks?" Pink's disappointment lingers as he processes the fact that his preference is not available. That was quite literally the only reason why he even showed up, and now it felt like a wasted effort. He glances around the house, taking note of the peculiar layout and the presence of a door near the dining room that seems to lead downstairs to a basement apartment.
