"sorry kid. i don't do business when the sun's still up." pete tells the boy standing in front of him.
patrick came by sometime during the lunch rush hour. people walk by pete all the time, but no one spares a single second to check up on him. except patrick. he fascinates pete.
"oh no. that's not why i'm here. i just wanted to thank you for last night." patrick explains.
the boy holds out a pale hand for pete, who looks at him with confusion.
"you really don't know how these things work, huh." he says.
it was patrick's turn to be perplexed.
"that's true, but can't a guy just treat his... dude out to lunch? a coffee at least?" he asks.
pete smiles at this, but shakes his head.
"i'll pass, but thanks for the offer dude. i've never been called dude before. 'cept for when i served a surfer. that was a long night." he reminisced while patrick frowned.
"c'mon. at least take a walk with me?"
pete shakes his head again, leaning back against the bricks. his bricks.
"well i tried. it was nice talking to you though. see you around pete." patrick calls as he walks out of pete's alleyway.
he closes his eyes, letting the cold chicago air take away any warmth in his body. which wasn't much. pete was always cold. he didn't necessarily like it, but he didn't hate it. let's mark this one down as neutral.
pete slips off into a light slumber at the end of the lunch rush. the people walk past, never stopping to question. never stopping to care. he likes it this way. 'it gives a sense of privacy.' he thinks.
he wakes up some time later, when the sun is starting to set and the people are leaving with it. after this is done the drug dealers come out with the moon like werewolves. actually, scratch that. werewolves don't exist. except maybe they do. pete doesn't know this. he does, however, know about drugs and bricks and walls and streets.
another unusual buyer comes around later. but it isn't patrick, no. this time a man with long hair and a slight lisp stops by. unusual buyers bother pete.
"you selling?" the unusual buyer asks.
"you a cop?" pete replies.
the long-haired unusual buyer smirks, fiddling with something in his pocket. this makes pete nervous. but as a drug dealer if you don't deliver, you don't get paid. it's simple.
"yeah i'm selling. what can i get for you?" pete asks in a cold tone.
the unusual buyer's smirk grows as he pulls out a gun and a badge from his pocket. then he starts laughing.
"officer trohman, cpd. hands in the air, drugs on the ground!" the long-haired guy shouts between his laughs.
pete doesn't know what to do in this situation. he starts to back up, begging the bricks for protection. the bricks, however, don't respond. they're bricks. bricks can't talk.
"i said put your hands in the ai-!" the guy gets cut off and lets out a strangled cry. there's a loud thud and another cry. pete dares to open an eye, and the sight shocks him.
the long-haired cop is on the ground in a choke hold, patrick's arms squeezing tightly around the cop's neck. he twists the cop's head a certain way that makes pete cringe. the long haired cop falls limp after some time, and patrick let's go.
"almost got caught, huh?" patrick asks, brushing himself off.
"yeah. pretty sure he was gonna shoot me too. thanks."
he smiles. pete starts digging through his drug bags and grips another bottle of pills.
"here let me-" he begins
"no need" patrick cuts him off "i didn't come here for drugs. i want to help you. my house is only a few blocks away-"
it's pete's turn to cut him off.
"i can't. i couldn't."
"don't think too much about it. i just wanna make sure you don't get jumped again." patrick states.
patrick holds out his hand again, and this time pete accepts it. he likes it.
