>>6199560>>6199573>>6199607>>6199619>>6199686>>6199826>>6199943>>6199977>>6199995>>6199850You keep quiet, but something about this stinks. While Hawthorne has his stare down with the man in the mask you let your eyes wander.. The two teens who used to run with Caesar have something.. off about them. You remember the last time you saw them, typical punks, but looking now they seem. Different. Confident. Your eyes go for the usual locations first, a quick glance at the waist, ankles, and pockets doesn't show any strange lumps.. So no guns or.. wait.
Your eyes freeze. The loudmouth of the two, the one who called you pig, he wears a slightly oversized flannel that hangs loosely from his shoulders. The wrinkles and folds pull one side down more than the other and a slight glint catches your eye. A camera lens.There’s a click somewhere deep in your unconscious when you spot it, peeking just above a breast pocket, as a memory of something Wallace said comes rushing back to you. You swallow harshly and turn just as you see Hawthorne take a step and let loose a:
"Enough of the clown show."
You step backwards, lightly bumping Hawthorne's shoulder as you step half between them.
"How about we slow this down.." You start, holding a hand up to Hawthorne and giving a flick of the eye to the two young men.
"How about I break my foot off in his ass?" Hawthorne counters.
"Sir." You say firmly. Your eyes flicking again to the two young men and now a small gaggle of people watching with more interest.
Hawthorne looks around and you see some of the heat in his face fade away as he lets out a huff. He grunts and nods at you to continue, turning around, you speak politely to the masked man.
"How about this, you give us your name and some ID instead, how about that?"
"For what?" He replies, scoffing. "I ain't done nothing."
"Yeah, man. Why're you fuckin with us?" The one without the phone shouts.
You glance around and see more people starting to look over. Hawthorne shakes his head slightly, staring daggers at the teen.
"How about you brats get out of here and quit interfering in police business, unless you want me to make a call to your mama."
Hawthorne's threatening taunt actually makes something click for you. In the silence of your mind the idea stands out like a sore thumb.
"How old are you two boys?" You ask, turning from the masked man entirely while keeping your body squared up with his.
"We don't answer questions." One of them spits. Out of the corner of your eye you see the mask shift as he smiles slightly.
"That right?" Hawthorne growls. "Well we ain’t asking, it's an order. How old are you and where are your parents?"
"What's it matter, Officer? We can't just enjoy the day?" The Man asks, raising his voice slightly.
"The matter." You swivel and tell him to his face. "Is that per City Ordinance all minors have to be accompanied by an adult aged 18 or older."
