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JP was in one of his usual haunts: Eightball. This either meant JP was making important decisions (throwing darts), or making important bank (hustling pool), or looking for a mark (always). Presently he was getting his billiards on while, yes, he also seems to have taken hostage of the jukebox here too. Welcome to the Johnny Cash hour.
Arlo is still learning his new neighborhood, and this place looks fun, so in he strolls. He looks like a normie, but JP knows better. Arlo looks around until he spies a familiar face, then he heads JP's way. "You find someone to swindle?" he asks as he watches JP setting up pool. Johnny Cash is acceptable fare.
JP arched his eyebrow and shook his head, "I dunno what'chu talkin about. I play me an honest game." He was the quintisential picture of innocence and trouble all at once in that regard. It didn't help when he said "For twenty buck I prove it." Glancing up he looked around with his head on a constant and perpetual swivel. Soemthing withthe dealings of the two fellas talking at the bar held his attention for longer than a second there but then found him minding his own business once more. "Arlo right?" JP was working on getting the hand of all teh crazy names in New York.
"Yeah," Arlo says, "And you're JP — never say his whole name." He takes out his wallet, counts, and says "Twenty bucks is steep, man, and I'm a terrible pool player. Make it five and you got a deal." Five he could afford. Twenty? He'd have to throw another 'party' to earn that much. He hated throwing 'parties.' "Elmo and I talked a lot last night. He's a good guy."
JP chortled. Never say his whole name? Eh he could live with that kinda street cred even if no one ever says what his whole name is… because it's apparenrlty something one doesn't say. This stretched an amused grin ear to ear. "Yeaaaaah he's why I agree' t' stay in New York." That French rolling off his accent like salve on a burn. "He a good guy. Gon' gettum killed one day I swear." He paused and offered instead, "Hey I know what we agree t'pay ya. How about you go grab you'self a beer an we jes play, hmm?"
Arlo tilts his head. Does JP know Elmo's done time for assault? Nng, he'd better not bring it up. That shit could be a confidence. Instead, he just says, "So we'll have to have his back." He grins then and says, "You got it, boss." He heads over to the bar to get himself a beer, then he brings it back, sipping along the way. "Maybe you can teach me how to not be bad at this."
JP never said good meant nice or innocent. It also meant prone to overextend ones' self. He sniffed and thumbed at the bridge of his nose before reaching for his beer. "Always lookin for a new trade, that it?" He didn't seem suspiscious nor offended. "What' your story man? I invitin you into my house, should know somethin. That aside? GO grab a cue. Preferably not one been leanin against no wall. Those bow over time. Ain' no good to no one. You give that t'the fella you plain."
"Always looking to better myself," Arlo says with just a tinge of wryness. Maybe there's more to the words than the glib delivery implies. He takes another drink, then takes up a cue stick off the wall, and he chalks it. He's learned that much through observation. "My story? What do you wanna know? I spent time in juvie for pickpocketing, but I don't steal from my own, and besides, I was starving."
JP set his soda down and arched his eyebrows with interes, "Oh ya don'?" That tone was languidly conversational. "Well that tres bien. Cause you take from me? I'll take both you' hands off an slap you with em before takin you thumbs from you." He winked to Arlo and it was hard to tell withthe jesting grin if he was serious or not. As for the juvie mention? That got a side nod and he went back to gettin ready for the break. "Gotta rule in my house: No women, no children, no churches which counts as ya know you synagogue, and other worship type places. An do not take from teh house. You that hard up, tell me firs', an we figure somethin out." JP rules. Arlo was warned. "Pickpocketin huh? You any good or you get caught cause you shit at it?"
Arlo shakes his head and says, "Nah, man. I wouldn't have told you what I can do if I was planning to do it to you." He grins at that wink, assuming JP is dead serious. "No women, no children, no churches," he echoes. "Like, at all? Or just not in the garage? Because I'm not going to give up women for good. I don't swing that way. Not that I care if you all do." He tucks the knowledge away that he can talk to JP if things get rough. Leaning a hip against the table, he says, "I did it hundreds of times and got caught once, so I must've not been too bad."
|ROLL| JP +rolls 1d20 for: 7
JP seemed really confused and almost messed up his shot laughin grinning at Arlo amused, "Merde, I am the laaaast person to tell somone t'go celibate. Life's short. Don' waste it. I'll be honest, I don' care what you do or how you do it but we don' hurt women, chi'ren or no church-type places." The break was a fair break, and not his best. The wise man never put out his best game to lead anyways. "Eeeeh could be some other business if you' still any good." It should surprise no one that JP is the sort of guy that knows a guy for things.
Arlo says "Oh! Yeah, no. Me either. You gotta draw a line somewhere. I thought you mean brought into the garage." Which, apparently, would've been okay with him, too. He lines up his shot, and while his precision is good, the ball spins in place instead of sinking. "This ball is confused," he says. Then he glances at JP with a slow smile. "Yeah? I'm not closed off to the idea. I just don't want to throw any more 'parties' if I don't gotta."
JP paused and squint looking up to Arlo with some critical judgement. Hmmm. The comment on teh confused ball made him snicker, "Yeha seems that way. This atble anythin' but level, lemme tell you. I got one at the garage but it need be felted." He sank teh 1 and was going after the 5 next but it nicked the side of the 11 ball and veered juuust off course. "So you a hustler or a fixer or what?" JP was really not one to beat around the bush at all, then again, guys living that close to street level tended to run into this stuff more than most.
"Kind of both," Arlo says with a small grimace. "I wouldn't mind it so much if I liked junkies." Hypocrite. He eyes that 11 ball. It's a tasty target, and he shoots. He actually sinks it, and his brows lift in pleasant surprise. He tries for the 13 next, but he misses. Alas. "People pay me to give them synesthesia while they're on something. It enhances the high. It's not the worst thing, but I feel like I'm prostituting powers that cost me too much to treat like that."
JP looked up from the shot and squint at Arlo and seemed… to utterly start to get lost. "Okay lets back up and try that again without the ten doller words." Welcome to the stark difference in the educational system. "Soooo, pretend like you talkin' t'someone that grew up in teh sytem rather than someone who went to one of them fancy schools around here. What's goin on and' how you brokerin that shit?" Someone knew all the wrong kind of businesses.
There are some ways in which Arlo reveals he's from the Upper West Side and grew up with tutors, even if his accent has gone street, not to mention his wardrobe. "Synesthesia," Arlo says, "is a condition where your brain gets its wires crossed, and you can see sound or hear smells, or any number of weird mixups. I can do it voluntarily. There's no cheaper word for it, sorry." He surveys the pool table, not quite willing to meet JP's eyes. "I can share my senses with other people. They experience what I experience. So they pay me their money, take their drugs, and I loan them my senses."
JP still seemed confused as hell trying to follow this. His brow furrowed and was jsut… finding this well beyond understanding until he got to the end, "Soooo you can share your senses with others and scramble their head. So yoooou get messed up so they don' have to?" Those dark brown eyes squint trying to see if he was grasping that correctly. "Ir they get messed up an you get em piss drunk for cheap?" His eye squint and set the butt of his cue on the boot of his shoe thoughtuflly.
"I get messed up so their high is spectacular," Arlo says with a crooked twist of his lips. "Their hallucinations are so much more real and trippy." He takes a drink of his beer and tries to dispel the dirty feeling it gives him just to talk about it. "I whore my powers, is what it boils down to."
JP considered this and tilted his head offering objectivly, "If you gon' feel like shit about it then ya need to stop. If it about the means? Then you got' do that shit on your own terms. Most of us sell our ability. Shit, even people that ain' Mutants do that. You good at math you be an accountant. You know someone makin somehtin maybe you sell it. You good at laundry maybe you do that. Butwhatever business you pushin you got' be your own boss. Ownership is everythin'."
"That's why I want to clean up around the garage," Arlo says. "I won't have to do that for a living anymore." He takes another drink of beer, licks his lips, and adds, "That shit's, you know, intimate. Sharing a piece of yourself like that. I'd do it for someone I cared about, do it for a cause, but for money like this?" He shakes his head. "I don't want to do it anymore. I'm out."
JP shrugged and shook his head, "You wanna not do it for whatever reasons than don't. Someone don' wanna listen do what I do when they don' take a no and hittum with a Buick. Jes' cause we in the business don't mean we wwork for anyone. We work our shit for who we want on our terms. They a mark, they ain' our boss."
Arlo laughs quietly and says, "Yeah, I can't hit them with a Buick, but I got fists. I mean I guess I'm my own boss, but the need for the money sure acts like it is. Taking jobs I don't want because I need to eat." He shakes his head. "I might do it again because I feel like it, but an honest job will take the pressure off. It's my way of getting some control back."
JP was brazen and upfront to the point of one might question if he was mocking Arlo, but his expression was pretty matter-of-fact, "Shit man, I hustle, but it' who I want, and only when I want. Frankly sometimes I enjoy what I fuckin do and the payout's pretty fuckin fantastic I won't lie. That aside? Ain't somethin t'get trapped in or you lose the power to shut that shit off. Still I mean we all gotta survive man. If it gettin stale? Yea, let's get you moved on from that. You wanna do somethin' else? I wanna open my garage. So believe me when I say I get it."
"I don't like people touching me," Arlo says. "Dancing's nice. It's fun, but that's it." Poor Hattie, one hopes she doesn't have aspirations. "Otherwise, I probably would've been hustling. I don't care if that's what someone does, though. I get it. It's easy money." He smiles, a genuine smile as he says, "I owe you, JP. Getting me out of that life is probably going to save mine."
JP shruged and seemed to take that in stride. "Like I tell Elmo alla time, the rules of society are broken. We' makin new rules." He shot the nine in with a decisive stroke that plumbeted into the side pocket with purpose and the gearhead looked up to Arlo honestly, " I'm here t' see my people get ahead. You show up on time, do right by me and my business? I'll see that happen. Won' even shake your hand over it." He winked with a wily grin at the gesture of yeah no touchie but also amused as hell.
.~{:--------------:}~.
Arlo watches JP wipe up the board with him, and he seems amused more than anything. "I'll shake your hand," he says. "It's just, you know, intimate stuff. It's hard to separate emotions from sensation when it's that intense." He waits til his turn, then lines up his shot. He manages to sink the 12, which puts him still behind but catching up. "Which, okay, I guess, but then people lie, they leave you. It's not worth it."
JP remained on standby, an eyebrow arching trying to follow ll that. "I'm pretty sure there's somethin about a cart an' a horse here, but who'm I t'say. Someday you'll have t'explain how the two are related." He waited and nodded his approval as the juke switched to some Buddy Holly; oldie but still holdin water. "Gooood shot."
"What, emotion and sensation?" Arlo says, "Eh, maybe it's just me. He smiles when JP praises his shot, and he takes another one. He sinks number 10. "Hey, look at that." Still behind, but less so. His third shot nearly knocks the 8-ball in, and he winces, stepping away from the table. "That was too close."
JP shruged and offered, "Sentiment and sensation. I dunno. I don't think about this sorta thing, but I guess you kinda have to. It's… I dunno I guess maybe I can kinda relate but it's really… Yeah I guess not." JP was a social planning force of cunning. Getting super cerebreal? It was not really in his wheelhouse. "I do get seizing a train and pullin a rush off that and just feeling like I'm flyin and it's pretty groovy but i's still… I know what's me and what ain't me."
Arlo says, "I envy you. When things get intense, it all starts to blend. I start feeling things I don't wanna feel." He shrugs a soulder. "Side-effect of the powers. Mutations giveth, mutations taketh away." He takes a drink of his beer. A nice long drink, finishing it. "Anyway. Point is, I'll shake your hand."
JP nodded his head thoughtfully and squint with a wry hitch of a grin, "That before or after you put money on th' next game, mon ami? Cause that' be a hell of a way to throw the game, I'll tell you what." The greaser shrugged, "Dunno tha's worth envy. It is what it is. What'chu drinkin? I'll grab next one."
"The beer they got on tap," Arlo says. Then, with a laugh, he says, "I don't think I'm ready to put money on the table. Maybe give me a few games to catch up to you." Lidding his eyes, he adds, "It should only take a few games." That smile is like a cat who ate the canary.
JP dipped his head in a nod and waded over with that same saunter like he owned every scrap of land he set foot on or would fight for it. He leaned on the bar and it was perhaps as much a mystery if he was there for teh drinks or to eaves drop on the conversation he was keeping a peripheral eye on. What he did do is come back with two beers and set them down. "SO Elmo don' work no Saturdays and I ain' down f' Sundays. That's a fishin day. 'S important. Figure we bring you in monday, wednesday, friday. See how that work out. Can divide that up over halves if you got other projects goin."
Arlo takes the offered beer and has a drink. Then he says, "Elmo's that observant? Huh. Yeah, I can do Moneday, Wednesday, and Friday. The only other thing I got going on is the thing I'm trying to stop doing so much of, so it works out." Another drink, then he says with a laugh, "Where do you go fishing in New York?"
JP missed the meaning of that and shrugged, "I dunno. He pay' attention t'shit goin on alright." He took a drink of his beer and squint a look around trying to get a level on teh place. Arlo asked the hundred dollar question though. "Thaaaat I dunno. I only got up here bout a month anna half ago. Wasn' even supposed t' still be here, but… some asshole make me one a' them no refuse type offers."
"I keep telling myself I'm going to go out to California," Arlo says. "But I'm not." He leans against the pool table, forgetting about the game for the time being in favor of talking to JP. "What kind of offer was it? It must've been pretty compelling to keep you in this shithole city."
|ROLL| JP +rolls 1d20 for: 19
JP went to drink his beer and grinned in sheer amusement as it was in accusation, "Someone ask me t'stay." He shrugged and found this somehow amusing but the grin his those dark eyes with a story there. "They ask me in a way I can' say non to. Soo oui, I stay. There things t'do here. This city? She sick. I go home? Eeeeh I find me a way t'get into tha wrong kinda trouble. Hmmm Tha' no good. So instead? Change m' stars. LIke I tell you? I' makin new rules."
Arlo glances away from JP when he says why he's stayed. "Yeah," he says, "I'm making new rules." His voice is hard, not its friendly self it was moments ago. "I moved to the M.T. and I'm not taking any shit from people who hate us. You can't get along in the 'normal' world. Even if you pass, they find out, and no matter how cool they say they are with it, they're not."
JP shrugged and offered, "Eeeh I can think of one. Ain' no great start but it a start. Some tho? Some's real assholes. I dunno what t'say but we make our war gettin ahead when they ain'. It start there. There some things comin down the line. Worl' can' stay like this forevah." The Cajun nodded with some sort of zen assuredness as of God or someone gave him an inside line that the world was bound to change.
"Every time I think one of them can be trusted, "Arlo says, "they ditch. I'm done with normies." His brow furrows as he drinks his beer. Then he relaxes and shrugs. "It won't stay like this forever as long as we do something to change it. If we can't convince them to accept us, make them too afraid to spout the shit they say."
JP was not helpful always, but was pretty pragmatic on these things, "Lemme tell you somethin, jes' cause they our kind? Don' necessarily make em much better. Yous got' look out for numbah one, mon ami. FIrs', als', an always."
Arlo nods firmly. "Yeah, no kidding. It's just that if one of our own messes with us? It's as equals. If they hate me, they're not gonna hate me because I'm a mutie, and if they do, that's their problem." He shakes his head. "I tried thinking of the other guy, and the other guy doesn't care. No one else is looking out for you, you know?"
JP laughed with a warm grin. He really did look like 20 miles of trouble, but that trouble looked inviting and a hell of a lot of fun. "Ya know, growin' up? I' tell you what, someone always have a problem wit' me. Wrong family, wrong money, no money, wrong clothes, wrong DNA. I's jes born wrong." He shrugged, "To them. Maybe. Me? I emjoy the hell outta bein me. I find other Mutant? Wrong crew, wrong skin, wrong pwople? It always somethin. It always gon' be something so if you gonna get on normies about hatin on you bout being Mutant an' let the rest slide? That' messed up. All those other parts jes as important. Like I tell Sparkplug fight. Fight the people who call you small. Fight the people say 'Jew' like is a bad thing. FIght the people tha' say theclothes is wrong, the food wrong, you mutant, you work for a livin. Fight em. Fight em all. And we don' stop fightin but don' hate n the normies cause they normies. Given em credit for bein a proper asshole at least. They put a lota work into bein that damn stupid an' deserve the recognition of they' efforts." Lesson learned: You want Satire? Find JP.
Arlo snorts and says, "You're all right. I came from a good family, good upbringing. I did everything right, and I still ended up in this place." He eyes the pool table, still not taking much interest in what's left of their game. He's got beer, he's leaning against the table talking to JP, seeming satisfied with that. "Anyway, no one's getting a pass. Someone calls me Jew like it's a bad thing? I'll punch them. I'll punch anyone who gives me grief, I don't care if they're a mutant or normie."
There's some random who leans into the side door, one of those with the release latch that's triggered by a long thing bar that goes the length of the stormdoor. As he opens in it, Remy Le Beau slips in with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a bit of hair down over his eyes. The collar on his trench coat is popped up to cover against the cold and the Cajun gives the man a wink. "Evenin, gents. Errybody call erryone dem names all de time. Ya tink we be toddlers or somethin," he says passingly, having heard just the tail end of the conversation. Not resting on the point, though, his hand goes up for a drink. He nods to the staff person.
JP had his pool cue and a beer. He was livin large today. The bottle was raised to Arlo with a grin, "That's the spirit. Besides, What' wrong with this place. You say that like it's a bad thing. A fella's gotta wonder what you' gold standard is." Remy's appearance seemed to not dampen JP's amusement not at all. "Bonsoir, Remy. Jes' about t'get the next game goin. You jes' in time." The machinst was always one to support an uprising, even if it was to get chocolate milk in schools.
Arlo eyes Remy and says, "Nah, I don't punch toddlers. Might punch you, though." Not that he makes any move whatsoever to do so. Can't punch, got beer. He glances to JP and tells him, "I grew up on the Upper West Side, man. Silver spoon and everything." His accent has fallen to street level, as have his clothes. Alas. He waves at the table and asks, "Do you two want to play? I'll watch and learn."
Remy takes a deep deep breath and lets it out slowly before his black and red eyes turn to meet Arlo's after the man mentions punching him. "Well be dat as it may, y'might jus as well let me get mah drink on firs, non?" He shrugs his shoulders as he gets his beer, "I ain't even slept wit yo girl yet."
JP didn't even interveine. Man some people enjoyed toasting marshmallows while watching the world burn. All he warned was, "Arlo, I said fight back, I ain' encouragin startin em." Lookin back to Remy the tone stayed amused, "You ain' yet? I don' believe it." At Arlo he shrugged and offered to Remy, "I rack em' you wan' break em?"
Arlo smiles crookedly and says, "If you can find her, she's all yours. Doesn't care much for our kind, though." Maybe that's why he can't find her anymore. He raises his beer to Remy, "Okay, expert, what am I supposed to call non-mutants?" To JP, he says, "You two brothers?" Both Cajun, surely they're all related.
"Only 'cause sh'ain't met me, yet," Remy says as he wanders over towards the pool cues, eyeing one with a closed eye. He reaches out to grasp it, pulling it from its moorings. "Y'ain't wanna fight me, buddeh. Remy dun fight fair." He gives a wink over at JP as he fondles the cue, rolling it back and forth in his hand to ensure it is straight. "OUr kind is the fairest kind," he says, presumably to himself.
JP paused in lifting his beer to drink it with a snicker and assured Arlo, "As far as you' concerned right now? Oui." There was tooooo much agreement about Remy not fighting fair, and why would anyone? It made no sense to the scrapper. The beer was set down and as if to just taunt his own amusement, rolled the cueball over to Remy. He'd… need it for somethin' or another. "Remy, this' Arlo. Arlo? Remy." Looking to Remy he was pleased to share, "We been workn on tha' garage. She lookin' tres bien." You'd think he was dating his garage with how he is carrying on.
"Who fights fair anymore?" says Arlo. He watches the pre-game rituals, the rolling of the stick and such. He's learning! As they're introduced, he nods to Remy. "Hey there, Remy. I'm the janitor." He may not say it with a surplus of pride, but hell, there's no shame in it, either. "Don't worry, JP, I'll keep her looking her best."
"'Lo, Arlo," Remy says pretty cheerfully as he preps to break, and break he does. The balls smack around wildly and he does well enough to get one in. As he saunters around the table, though, his second shot is not so lucky. "Tinkin' ah might have to stop by and take a gander."
JP arched an eyebrow, head tilting back. "You should. Might be somethin there of interes' to ya. Shit, came wit' a 7' table up top too. Felt's fucked but we can fix er righ' up." He shook his head as the balls made a mess around the table and one sank. Right, solids for JP it was then. He waited for his turn and eyed up the cueball and its rolly polly friends like they owed him money; not on this game, but generally many. "Mi' have a project comin' up to. but yeah, We only a block down, two streets over."
Arlo drinks his beer, and he watches. Not only the pool game, but the people as they talk to one another, trying to suss out the vibe between them in body language, microexpressions, those quick eyes read it all. "What kind of projects?" he asks, more to keep them talking than anything.
"Well, den, definitely have to drop by," Remy responds, though it's unclear if he's talking about the pool table or something else. His beer arrives and he takes down half of it with the first drink before surveying the table. His eyes flicker toward JP as Arlo asks about the projects, but Remy does not reply.
JP was happy not to drop business in teh middle of a low rent pool hall, even if it was his favourite one. He summed up to Arlo, "Business projects, an' social projects." Both of which he wa shappy to make sound equally as promising. Looking to Remy and grinned a bit as he noted quietly to Remy, "I talk' t'Moelle before we left t'come back up." His Ex. "She lettin me call mon petit, Amalie, t'morrow afternoon." Someone was pleased.
Arlo peers as he tries to translate Cajun into English, then into New Yorkian. "You have a kid?" he asks, brows lifting in surprise. "I thought…" A quick glance at Remy silences him. A pool hall isn't a great place to bring up the assumption that JP (and everyone in his garage) was into cats, not chicks. "That's cool," he says. Not the best save. He nods a lot. "Yeah, that's cool."
"We all got sometin," Remy replies as he puts out his cigarette and then lets out an inordinate amount of smoke. "An I got dis shot here comin up."
JP fished out his wallet and dug out a black and white photo with a crease in one corner from his wallet of a four year old with a woman that looked like she could star opposite of Carry Grant. Say what one will about the bayou boy, but he had some phonominal taste. "Yeah, that' Mozelle and that? That my lil girl." He let Remy clean up that table, and by let it was a decent bout, but JP didn't bury the concussive Cajun's game. Eh win some he lose some. JP wasn't sore about it. He let Arlo look and he put the picture back in his wallet when Remy went to take care of his own business. "She perfect man. Sometime? Sometime we fin' that one thing that make all la merde worth it."
"She's cute," Arlo says in that slightly higher pitched tone people use when talking to or about kids and puppies. "Wow, your ex is easy on the eyes, too." He smiles crookedly, always with a wry little twist. "So she's your touchstone?" he says. "That's cool. It's cool to have something that makes it all worthwhile."
JP smiled stupidly at the picture pointing to Arlo with it a moment before tucking it safely away in his wallet. "Mozelle? She ain' like us. Hell her papa th' one tha' sent me away a while." One might imagine all number of reasons why. He shook his head dauntless in his good mood. "Mozelle didn' care though. Tol her papa he' have to turn her out cause she ain' givin her her kid, Mutant o' otherwise. I tell you what she do right by her too." He nodded appreciativly taking a deep breath before tilting back his beer. "Things didn' work out so well she an' I but… she a good woman. Not all em like you say agains' us. Just too many of em."
Arlo is quiet a moment, looking into his beer. A small, wistful smile plays upon his lips, but it fades into something sadder. "With Julia, the worst was the way she looked at me, when she left. I could've taken anger or hatred, but she pitied me." He shakes his head. "I prefer it when they just hate you. I'm glad you found one of the good ones, even if you aren't together anymore."
JP wrinkled his nose. Thaaaat is rough. He nodded in a slow agreement ruefully admitting, "Yeaaaah mine's m'own fault. I can' fault her that. I mean… she made the right choice an all." He wasn't happy about it but he wasn't having any illusions about it either. "Had m'share of shit tho. I feel for ya. One day tho? we make things go our way an' then? What will we do wit' ourselves?" This? This amused him more than anything: the threat of being bored.
Arlo looks up at JP and grins. "I'm going to go to school," he says. "That's the part I miss the most. I was going to go to Columbia and study business. Mom had it all worked out. I was going to be the businessman, Levi was going to be the rabbi." He shakes his head. Then he takes another long swig of his beer. Need beer to live.
JP arched an eyebrow, "You can read an' everything? Merde, lookit you go. Why you stop goin into business? Business e'rywhere." He waved his hand like it was some all mighty force of commerce. To be fair it really was.
Arlo shrugs and says, "Got kicked out when I was fifteen. No money, no legacy, no nice reference letter from Rabbi Silverstein. I show up there, they'll toss me out on my ear. I barely started high school, don't get me started about finishing it." He clucks his tongue and adds, "Wherever I came from, I'm in the gutter now, man." He finishes off his beer. "Anyway, it was great talking to you, but I gotta see a guy about a thing. I'll be there with bells on on Monday."
JP goes home.