Post by War / Slate on Sept 8, 2021 4:18:09 GMT -5
The doors closed behind him and there he was, standing outside of the State Pen. in a brown button up shirt and a pair of jeans, with his other possessions in the black garbage bag he held low in his right hand.
Jesse tucked his free hand into his pocket, leaned up against the brick building and waited.
And waited.
Must have been around forty five minutes, and the street wasn't getting any emptier.
Maybe they'd forgotten, or gotten the dates mixed up. Maybe something had happened on the road. or, he began to think with the sort of solemn introspection only a man who knows he's done wrong is capable of... maybe he should have expected this.
Then he heard the faint low rumbling of tires on asphalt, and somebody torque up the throttle on a bike. For a few moments not only did Jesse smile, but it was the same smile he'd given when he was sixteen and shown the bike daddy had gotten him for his birthday.
Over the small hill the cavalry came. One bike in the front, the rider helmeted and therefore not immediately recognized, a big four-door SUV behind and, behind them, another bike. the last was a fat boy, and he knew that god awful peach and lime paint scheme anywhere. The bike was as unmistakable as it's elderly rider, and meaning no offense to anyone else, when the small procession pulled to a stop in front of the jail it was to the back of the row that Jesse strode to, quickly and deeply embracing the man who'd gotten off the bike.
Slate: God, it's good to see you Danny.
Danny laughed, and held the taller and younger man like a father embracing his own son. Might as well have been, Danny was basically the most reliable of all uncles, especially those not directly related by blood. He clapped Jesse on the back a few times, squeezing the younger man as tightly as his 72 year-old arms could squeeze. Which was actually still a decent amount, he was old but he was still a tough one.
Danny: It's good to see me?! Well shit son, think about how we all must feel!
Still giving that relieved laugh of a man freed, Jesse pulled back from the hug, though he still held Danny by his shoulders. His eyes wandered to the fat boy, and then back to the old man.
Slate: Good to see you're still ridin', even if I don't have any idea how you still lug that heavy thing around.
Danny laughed and pulled an arm away from Jesse so he could point a thick finger at the ex-con.
Danny: Hey, you better watch your mouth kiddo! It ain't too late to return you yet, we still got the receipt!
That spurred another laugh between the two. It was clear in the eyes of both how glad they were to see each other, how much they missed each other. Part of Jesse had worried that Danny might not be around anymore when he got out... the passage of time being nobody's friend, really. But here they were. By now the other rider had dismounted and pulled off his helmet, and the driver's and passenger's side doors of the SUV had opened as well, the vehicle's occupants stepping out and all three of them approaching the laughing duo.
Jesse brought his gaze upon them, two he recognized and one he didn't.
Slate: Holy shit, that can't be little Gabe.
The dark-haired man who'd gotten off the lead bike smiled. Only a few years Jesse's junior, he was still much skinnier had had way less tattoos the last time Slate had laid eyes on him. He filled out that cut he wore around his shoulders a lot better now, it didn't droop off of his shoulders like a kid using a towel as a superhero cape.
Gabriel: In the flesh, Jesse Slate.
He extended his hand low and Jesse took it in his. The two men pulled each other in for an embrace, bumping shoulders and giving each other a solid pat between the shoulder blades before they pulled away.
Slate: Almost didn't recognize you. Got your own ride now huh?
Gabriel: Yeah, ain't she a beauty?
He turned to look back at the cherry red Harley.
Gabriel: I know everyone calls Sportster's 'girl bikes' but that shit's pretty old fashioned. She's comfy, pretty and reliable -- that's all I care about.
Jesse gave him a nod, then turned to the third male, the one who'd gotten out of the driver's door of the SUV.
Slate: Jesus Teddy, what happened to you?
The tall, slightly thin gentleman with the graying handlebar moustache wasn't as old as Danny, but still had about twenty years or so on Jesse Slate. Like the rest of them he was in jeans and his cut, but instead of wearing a pair of steel-toed work boots he wore one and a walking boot on the other.
Teddy snorted.
Teddy: One of the prospects dropped that guzzler over there on my damn foot.
He'd motioned to the ugly-painted fat boy of Danny's, and in response Danny himself just gave a shrug. Regardless of the tale, Teddy found himself on the receiving end of a hug from Jesse too.
Slate: And where's your ride?
Teddy: Funny enough, she's in the shop too.
Jesse's eyes wandered to the one face he didn't know, the woman who'd gotten out of the car opposite Teddy. She wasn't too tall and probably weighed like a feather, a tattooed brunette with black painted nails and sunglasses. What was most surprising to him was that she too was wearing a cut.
Slate: And who's this?
She smiled.
Danny: That's Angela, she just got her full cut a few weeks ago.
Jesse extended his hand, and she shook it.
Angela: Please to meet you.
Slate: The very same.
He turned back to Danny then.
Slate: What happened to Bishop's rule about women?
Danny and Teddy both laughed. Jesse, who was on the verge of smiling, chuckled too and Angela smirked.
Danny: Oh, who gives a rats-ass with that smelly fuck thinks. He gave up President to go deal with some family crap up in Nome -- so I say, she's in.
Slate: Hey, you'll have no arguments from me.
Angela: Good, I'd hate for them to have to haul you back in there to see the nurse.
Jesse, chuckling, let out a low whistle.
Slate: Oh yeah, she's definitely in.
Teddy: Hey what's say we hid the road, huh? I'm starving.
Gabriel: And I bet Jesse could go for something that isn't prison cafeteria food.
Slate: God, yes.
Jesse tucked his free hand into his pocket, leaned up against the brick building and waited.
And waited.
Must have been around forty five minutes, and the street wasn't getting any emptier.
Maybe they'd forgotten, or gotten the dates mixed up. Maybe something had happened on the road. or, he began to think with the sort of solemn introspection only a man who knows he's done wrong is capable of... maybe he should have expected this.
Then he heard the faint low rumbling of tires on asphalt, and somebody torque up the throttle on a bike. For a few moments not only did Jesse smile, but it was the same smile he'd given when he was sixteen and shown the bike daddy had gotten him for his birthday.
Over the small hill the cavalry came. One bike in the front, the rider helmeted and therefore not immediately recognized, a big four-door SUV behind and, behind them, another bike. the last was a fat boy, and he knew that god awful peach and lime paint scheme anywhere. The bike was as unmistakable as it's elderly rider, and meaning no offense to anyone else, when the small procession pulled to a stop in front of the jail it was to the back of the row that Jesse strode to, quickly and deeply embracing the man who'd gotten off the bike.
Slate: God, it's good to see you Danny.
Danny laughed, and held the taller and younger man like a father embracing his own son. Might as well have been, Danny was basically the most reliable of all uncles, especially those not directly related by blood. He clapped Jesse on the back a few times, squeezing the younger man as tightly as his 72 year-old arms could squeeze. Which was actually still a decent amount, he was old but he was still a tough one.
Danny: It's good to see me?! Well shit son, think about how we all must feel!
Still giving that relieved laugh of a man freed, Jesse pulled back from the hug, though he still held Danny by his shoulders. His eyes wandered to the fat boy, and then back to the old man.
Slate: Good to see you're still ridin', even if I don't have any idea how you still lug that heavy thing around.
Danny laughed and pulled an arm away from Jesse so he could point a thick finger at the ex-con.
Danny: Hey, you better watch your mouth kiddo! It ain't too late to return you yet, we still got the receipt!
That spurred another laugh between the two. It was clear in the eyes of both how glad they were to see each other, how much they missed each other. Part of Jesse had worried that Danny might not be around anymore when he got out... the passage of time being nobody's friend, really. But here they were. By now the other rider had dismounted and pulled off his helmet, and the driver's and passenger's side doors of the SUV had opened as well, the vehicle's occupants stepping out and all three of them approaching the laughing duo.
Jesse brought his gaze upon them, two he recognized and one he didn't.
Slate: Holy shit, that can't be little Gabe.
The dark-haired man who'd gotten off the lead bike smiled. Only a few years Jesse's junior, he was still much skinnier had had way less tattoos the last time Slate had laid eyes on him. He filled out that cut he wore around his shoulders a lot better now, it didn't droop off of his shoulders like a kid using a towel as a superhero cape.
Gabriel: In the flesh, Jesse Slate.
He extended his hand low and Jesse took it in his. The two men pulled each other in for an embrace, bumping shoulders and giving each other a solid pat between the shoulder blades before they pulled away.
Slate: Almost didn't recognize you. Got your own ride now huh?
Gabriel: Yeah, ain't she a beauty?
He turned to look back at the cherry red Harley.
Gabriel: I know everyone calls Sportster's 'girl bikes' but that shit's pretty old fashioned. She's comfy, pretty and reliable -- that's all I care about.
Jesse gave him a nod, then turned to the third male, the one who'd gotten out of the driver's door of the SUV.
Slate: Jesus Teddy, what happened to you?
The tall, slightly thin gentleman with the graying handlebar moustache wasn't as old as Danny, but still had about twenty years or so on Jesse Slate. Like the rest of them he was in jeans and his cut, but instead of wearing a pair of steel-toed work boots he wore one and a walking boot on the other.
Teddy snorted.
Teddy: One of the prospects dropped that guzzler over there on my damn foot.
He'd motioned to the ugly-painted fat boy of Danny's, and in response Danny himself just gave a shrug. Regardless of the tale, Teddy found himself on the receiving end of a hug from Jesse too.
Slate: And where's your ride?
Teddy: Funny enough, she's in the shop too.
Jesse's eyes wandered to the one face he didn't know, the woman who'd gotten out of the car opposite Teddy. She wasn't too tall and probably weighed like a feather, a tattooed brunette with black painted nails and sunglasses. What was most surprising to him was that she too was wearing a cut.
Slate: And who's this?
She smiled.
Danny: That's Angela, she just got her full cut a few weeks ago.
Jesse extended his hand, and she shook it.
Angela: Please to meet you.
Slate: The very same.
He turned back to Danny then.
Slate: What happened to Bishop's rule about women?
Danny and Teddy both laughed. Jesse, who was on the verge of smiling, chuckled too and Angela smirked.
Danny: Oh, who gives a rats-ass with that smelly fuck thinks. He gave up President to go deal with some family crap up in Nome -- so I say, she's in.
Slate: Hey, you'll have no arguments from me.
Angela: Good, I'd hate for them to have to haul you back in there to see the nurse.
Jesse, chuckling, let out a low whistle.
Slate: Oh yeah, she's definitely in.
Teddy: Hey what's say we hid the road, huh? I'm starving.
Gabriel: And I bet Jesse could go for something that isn't prison cafeteria food.
Slate: God, yes.
