Duck, Duck,[Your]Goose[Is Cooked] {Geebs}

[charade]

Clyde Duval

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"It's not a decision, it's a guess. It's like flipping a coin and trying to decide whether it will be heads or tails."[/size][/font][/center]


It was the early evening and Clyde Duval was on the move. Or perhaps prowl would be a more accurate word. Yes, that is a more accurate description of the activity nineteen year old Clyde found himself pursuing. It was around this time that a majority of the general populace of the district was on it's way home from school, or the workplace. It was the perfect time for an entrepreneurial young gentleman such as himself to earn some well-deserved cash. Incidentally, by entrepreneurial young gentleman I mean well-practiced pick-pocket and by earning cash, I mean taking it without any regard as to the people to whom it belongs.


You see, Clyde was not simply taking a stroll through the more upper-crusty sections of district six, rather, he was looking for an easy mark. A mark as defined by the dictionary could be read as anything from a small bruise to a form of money used in the pre-panem era country of Germany; But as Clyde was not looking for a bruise nor out-dated coinage, one can only assume that the word mark in question refers to the slang term for an easy target. Read: Usually for swindling the pants off of and/or into.

But I digress.

Clyde made his way down a street and began watching the type of person he generally referred to as a stuffed shirt. I'm sure you know the type. Soft in the middle, struts around like he owns the place, desperate to be relieved of his wallet? Well, perhaps the person in question isn't all that desperate to be relieved of his wallet; in fact it's more likely that he'd like to hang on to his money for as long as possible, storing it up for who knows how long and for what purpose? Regardless, this canker would soon find themselves divested of their felonious goods.

Deftly crossing the street and sneaking behind the above mentioned fat-cat, Clyde began matching his preys movements, step by step in an effort to not be found out; mimicking every quirk of the person in front of him like a life-size marionette. There were enough people around that it wouldn't seem altogether odd for him to be trailing behind someone in this manner. But then, Clyde stopped short. Was that a peacekeeper way up yonder? No, No. That wouldn't do at all.

With an overly exaggerated sigh, Clyde abandoned his quarry, and slipped into a nearby alley-way. Seeing Peace-Keepers around did not bother him; however it was generally safer to avoid them like the plague. Stepping over a sleeping morphling addict, The Duval lad skipped in a nonchalant manner throughout the rest of the alleyway, across a street, and around several corners.

It made him happy to wander the streets so aimlessly; if was not as if he had anything to care about. Other than his well-being and the continued state of such that is. By and by, he found himself quite far from the better part of the district, in fact, he found himself on the more seedy side. The part more commonly referred to as the red light district if you will.

He had to be careful around these parts, as Peace-Keepers and other well-known figures frequented the place almost as much as the ladies of the night did. Not that the thought bothered him. No, Clyde was more than capable of taking care of himself should the occasion arise. Still, he couldn't help but wonder who or what the shadow he was approaching would reveal itself to be.

The more concerned reader might wonder how I know so much about Clyde Duval, or why I have taken such an interest in his doings. Well, no one did ever ask for my name did they? My name is Clyde Duval, and I very much enjoy talking to fictional readers in my head as I narrate my own life. Things get very boring in this district you see. Now , If you'll excuse me, There is the matter of the as of yet un-revealed shadow that Clyde must attend to.[/size]

[sbeeg]

~Lovely ladies waitin' for
a bite waitin' for the
customers that
only come at night~

Okay, I didn't really mean to call the Peacekeeper a "balless twit" but it just kind of came out. I really shouldn't talk sometimes- it gets me into trouble. Like now- I'm in trouble, hot water, deep shit- whatever you want to call it I'm in it up to my eyes. I don't know how many officers I'm going to have to "do business" with to get this erased from my record- but it is going to take a lot.

To be fair, the guy really was a twit.

Well, right now I'm running- which is no easy task in heeled boots I might add. After a few quick turns down some alleyways and some fence hopping I think I've finally lost him- something told me that the man wasn't exactly the fastest runner on the force but probably the quickest eater. Out of breath, I take a few moments in an attempt to regain it. The sun has just gone down so the heat of the day is over- shit!

As quickly as I has before, I started running through the back streets of District Six again. You see, I have to be at my post before sun down because that's when the Usuals come around and if I'm no there they'll go find some other girl- and I have bills to pay. Well, more like debts- but that is beside the point.

Hurling myself across a street, my heel got caught on the curb and- yeah it got worse. The whole thing was just ripped off. I guess that's what you get for buying cheap hooker shoes. Yanking both my shoes off, I threw them in my bag and started running again- which became miraculously easier. When I finally arrived at my expanse of street in front of an old, closed down warehouse, I was completely out of breath. Not only that- my streetlight that I tend to pose on (it adds a great effect- I'm telling you it works), is out. Convinced that tonight can't get any worse, I lean against the cool brick of the warehouse in shadows that wouldn't even be there if the District was classy enough for a lamp repairman.

That's when I hear it- footsteps. Pushing off from the brick wall, I quickly run fingers through my hair and try to make myself presentable. My skirt got hitched up and I pull it down- then change my mind and pull it back up. Taking in a breath, I let my body fall into "The Pose" and I look up in time to see an outline of someone walking my way.

"Evenin' sir, anything I could assist you with?" Let it be some random rich guy wandering through the wrong side of town to spend a hell of a lot of money on a gal. Pleeaaseeeee. Of course, I think that every time- I like to call it "The Workin' Girl's Prayer."

[charade]

Clyde Duval

"All you have to do is look for a little extra brightness in the sky."

Now where was I? Ah yes. When last we left the focus of our tale, Clyde (Which I might remind you, is in fact me) was approaching a shadow. Now that you've been reminded of a few details, we can now progress further with this account of Clyde's evening.

The shadow in question soon resolved itself into the shape of a girl; not just any kind of girl to be exact. For the portion of the district Clyde found himself in, he should have expected to run into a girl of the working class variety sooner or later; thought his seemed rather uncanny to be honest. Perhaps people in that particular line of business just happened to know when someone was in their territory. Even if that territory was an empty street overlooked by a lamppost with a busted light.

If Clyde thought it was strange that the light fixture was broken, it didn't show. Anyway, he had more important things to ruminate upon. For one thing, the words that came from the girl's mouth."Evenin' sir, anything I could assist you with?" A rather candid response that he felt was almost certainly rehearsed. It was not the first time he had had these particular words spoken to him, though it was one of the few times he was considering responding.

Clyde did not tend to associate with people of this ilk; generally he found himself sweet-talking his way into the house of someone with much more money than he, usually through a daughter;after which he would climb out the window, after snatching up their valuables. Clyde had to make a living somehow after all.

But, to the matter at hand. He began to examine the person in front of him- surely she would't think it odd as he walked around her, examining as best he could in the fading light of the gathering dusk. Didn't most men do that when... what's the phrase? "checking out"? That sounds about right. She was shorter than him by a good few inches to be sure; and very pale for someone who spends a lot of time standing on the corner. Of course, they generally stand on the corner at night, so that would explain it. ... Moving on.

The girl who had only moments ago, called him sir and vaguely propositioned him bore a head of blond hair as well as two rather blue eyes that stared at him in a a manner that was both icily and somewhat borderline mischievous. Her skirt was pulled up in a way in which Clyde assumed was meant not only to show off her pale thigh, but to make her seem all the more enticing and/or inviting.

However, it was about this time when Clyde realized he still had yet to reply to her query. He cocked his head to the side for a moment; (You see, this act helps him to formulate replies in a timely fashion) having decided that he was in fact truly bored, Clyde decided to engage this girl in the art of conversation.

Is there anything you can help me with? My dear, I'm not quite sure. Things get frightfully dreary in this district after all, and I don't know that that there is anything you can do other than entertain a question or two."Clyde performed a small bow after saying this, before plowing ahead with the rest of his monologue.

"Clyde Duval at your... If you will forgive the unfortunate phrasing, service. Now that you have had the pleasure of learning my name, might I humbly request the pleasure of yours? Your real name if you please. I don't know if you happen to be one of "those" girls who use some absurd moniker such as "Candy" or 'Sugarpie". After all, when making someone's acquaintance, it is generally more socially acceptable to use one's real name."

If you haven't guessed by now, you should know that Clyde thought that his night was about to become very interesting indeed.

[sbeeg]

~Lovely ladies
Waiting for the call
Standing up or lying down
Or any way at all
Bargain prices up against the wall ~

Oh God, he's not- yep. Yes, I got the worst kind of guy- a smart-aleck. Oh, and a talker! God, he's still talking! I really thought about just tearing off my clothes then and there to see if he'd notice. In fact, I thought about completely walking away from him. He was just a kid- tall but dangerously thin. He was fairly attractive- I'd seen better, and by the state of his clothes he was definitely not packing the cash. However, the way his thin fingers reached out from his hand could make anyone assume he had sticky fingers. There's so much guessing in picking a mark, and I just couldn't decide on this one.

Clyde Duval- I finally got a name out of him. Clyde. It fit well on my tongue and Duval rolled off right after it. Good name- talkative boy. He asked my name and opened my mouth to say- but he just kept talking! And- oh no. No no no no no! Sugarpie? Really!?

"Listen Mr. Vocabulary, I have a job to do and I really need the money and you're scaring off business- so if you'd kindly cut out the speeches and tell me if you're going to buy," I said, my tone rushed and peeved. I kicked myself- what if he did have money? I could have rushed off my chance of a day off. I quickly added on. "Charlotte. My name is Charlotte Blair. Only the amateurs call themselves 'Sugarpie'."

Trying to add a little laugh here and there, I stepped forward, trying to sell my product to a potential buyer. When I was close enough, I slipped my hand onto his coat sleeve and walked my fingers up his arm making sure to look into his eyes. "Clyde Duval- not a bad name. Tell me, Clyde, do you have any plans for later tonight?" My hand was at his shoulder and I spread out my fingers, letting my hand slide so my palm was against his chest. I had a lot of sucking up to do to make up for my snapping at him- God I hope he has some money because if he doesn't I'm going to knee him in the crotch and go find someone who is willing to pay for the company of a lady.

A quick post Dx

[charade]

Clyde Duval

See, that's what I was thinking; you stole my thought."

If Clyde thought he his evening was going to be interesting, he was was only mostly right. He knew he had a quick tongue and an even quicker wit. It wasn't exactly in the forefront of his thoughts for this gal to be snide. If you're not grasping the meaning of snide I suggest you pay close attention to how this lady reacted to the words I;Read: Clyde, had spoken. After all, he had chosen words to elicit a response, though it wasn't the response he had expected.

"Listen Mr. Vocabulary,For a moment, Clyde thought that she might have meant that as a compliment, before realizing she was in fact insulting his prose. Not exactly the best way to conduct business."I have a job to do and I really need the money and you're scaring off business- so if you'd kindly cut out the speeches and tell me if you're going to buy."Really needed the money? Well of course. It's not like people chose this particular line of work."Charlotte. My name is Charlotte Blair. Only the amateurs call themselves 'Sugarpie'."

So, she did have a touch of dry witticism. Interesting. Perhaps there was more than meets the eye to this Charlotte. She approached him with small giggles; an attempt to seem more coy he supposed. However, what surprised him was when she slipped a hand up his sleeve, moving her fingers up his arm, even managing to catch his gaze. Quaint."Clyde Duval- not a bad name. Tell me, Clyde, do you have any plans for later tonight?"

Was that to be the game then? Insults and then still enticing him to sample her er, wares? Clyde smiled in spite of himself,barely noticing that her hand had moved over to his chest. No, he could plan something far better than a night spent frolicking. After all, she was rather attractive and he was rather bored. Gently removing her hand, he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a wad of cash he had filched from a merchant the previous day. What else was he going to spend it on? he had enough stored away in the handful of houses that he rented. He waved the wad at her before walking farther down the road at a leisurely pace.

He turned back to stare at her."Well? I trust that this will suffice." he admonished before stuffing it back into his pocket. "I'm quite willing to overlook your snark, but aren't you going to follow?" Turning, he continued to stroll. There was an apartment he rented just a block or two away that he had paid for under the name of Johnny Crane. Never a good Idea to have more then one place under the same name. My, but what was he thinking? It had been so long since he had had a bit of real interaction, and perhaps he felt that his social skills were rusty. Bother. Still, this Charlotte was in for a surprise.

[sbeeg]

~Lovely lady!
Fastest on the street
Wasn't there three minutes
She was back up on her feet~

Oh, there it comes. A smile- he's smiling that is a good sign, isn't it? Well, I thought it was before he took my my hand from his chest. Shit! what am I going to do?! I shouldn't have spent so much time on this boy- he probably doesn't have any money anyway! Oh God, tonight can't get any worse!

No, it can't get any worse- but it can get loads better. Clyde reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. It took everything within me to keep from just snatching it from his thin fingers. Swallowing hard, I tried not to stare at the money but couldn't help myself. It has been awhile since I've seen that much green in one place- and a place where I can get to it. He was waving it in front of my face but I forced my hands to stay at my sides. No stealing. If he has this much cash on his person just think of how much he has hidden away. Clyde started to walk down the sidewalk but stopped to say over his shoulder "Well? I trust that this will suffice." I thought about making a sarcastic remark about the quality of my services but restrained myself. "I'm quite willing to overlook your snark, but aren't you going to follow?"

"You are a sneaky one," I said under my breath not sure if he heard my or not. Jogging forward, I met Clyde's stride and decided to ask the question. "So, where are we goin'?"

[charade]

Clyde Duval

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"No, no. No, see, this is a really sh** idea. You know why? Because it's really obviously a sh** idea."[/size][/font][/center]




Clyde could hear the sound of the girl who referred to herself as Charlotte, running to catch up to him, while muttering under her breath. Another hackneyed insult perhaps? It mattered little. This Charlotte had no idea what his true intentions were. Clyde had plans that were far above the carnally minded. It almost made him feel giddy with excitement. Almost; for he had to keep his wits about him, if things were to go as planned. Never mind, that the thought had only occurred to him scant moments ago.

If there was one thing Clyde was capable of, it was thinking on the fly, acting on a whim. It helped to make up explanations as he went along, especially when he found himself in a less than stellar situation. Keeping silent for a minute, Clyde glanced at his companion before replying. “I have a place of residence only a few streets from here. Don’t concern yourself about it.”

Clyde began to whistle a upbeat tune as he strode, whilst thinking about what exactly he was doing. What was his plan you might wonder? You see, despite his weekly jaunts into the bedchambers of the easily misled wealthy, Clyde felt alone. One night stands are a poor substitute for human interaction, and Clyde was tired of it. He wanted to feel more… normal; I suppose is the closest term I can come up with.

Whatever the case, Clyde led his companion down a side street, through a gate, around another corner and across the street before coming to a stop in front of a modest two story house. Odd, He could have sworn that this was the street where he had rented out an apartment under the name of Johnny Crane. He stood in front of the house uncertainly for a minute before remembering that he did in fact rent this house, under the name of Jim. Bother, but keeping all those aliases’ straight was an ordeal sometimes.

Upon realizing that his apartment must be on the street where he assumed this house was, he flashed a sheepish smile to Charlotte before withdrawing a ring of keys from a pocket within his jacket. Mail Key, Cash deposit box key, safe key, safe key, No, no, where was that house key? After a minute or so of fidgeting through a number of keys (far more than anyone should have a right to have), Clyde found the one that matched and unlocked the door, before ushering his “guest” inside.

Removing his jacket he placed it on the coat rack and made his way down the carpeted hallway to the kitchen, where he took a seat and, motioned for Charlotte to sit on the chair opposite him. As he waited for her to do so, he crossed his arms and put them on the table in question. Clyde decided to see how she would react. You’ll notice that I have yet to tell you what his thought actually is. But that is for Clyde to know, and you to find out.

[sbeeg]

~Lovely lady!
What yer waiting for?
Doesn't take a lot of savvy
Just to be a whore
Come on, lady
What's a lady for?~

There was something about this guy that was a little fishy. He was a little young to be buying a girl- and not that bad lookin' either. So, why would a young man in his prime need to purchase such services? It just didn't add up right- and then there's the money. The wad of it he waved in front of me- that's nothing a street rat would have on his person. Biting my lip I examined the kid out of the corner of my eye- you never know what you could be getting yourself into.

“I have a place of residence only a few streets from here. Don’t concern yourself about it.” Don't concern yourself? That's what criminals say- oh god, what if he's like some sick murderer who sweet talks girls to come with him and then slashes their throats in an alleyway? What was that story Cillian knew- some man a long time ago- the one that would lead working girls away and leave them mutilated. Jack the Ripper.

Clyde the Ripper? Biting down on my lip even harder, my body was on high alert prepared to do whatever was needed but I kept following him- through empty lots and creaky gates until we ended up in front of a house. Like a legit full house. My house sagged open at it- and then I heard the jangle of metal and turn to see Clyde holding a ring of what must have been a hundred keys. Blinking, I just watched him and ideas started to form in my head. No matter what happened inside that house I needed to come out with those keys.

Keys are what rich people use to keep money away from the ones who need it. And that was a lot of keys hiding a lot of money. Smiling back at him, Clyde led me into the house that was a heck of lot nicer than the hell hole I grew up in. Upon entering the house, my mark removed his coat- the keys still clanking in the pocket. I stared at the jacket hanging on the rack trying to decide if I could make it out of the house with them or not.

The sound of something hitting the table made me turn around. Clyde was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows propped up on the wood. Raising an eyebrow at the scene, I slowly made my way to the chair opposite him, plopping into the seat, laying my bag on the table.

Awkwardly, I looked around the room, allowing my tongue to aimlessly wander in my mouth- sticking in my cheek and sucking against my teeth making the noise Cillian hated so much.

Sorry I took so long Dx

[charade]

Clyde Duval

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[/center]

Certainly, the girl was quite confused by this point. Clyde left an awkward silence hanging in the air for several minutes, however, he was certain it must have felt more like several weeks. At any rate, the working girl known as Charlotte plopped herself in the seat across from where our boy sat. He noted that she seemed very uncomfortable. Good. It was up to Clyde to keep the upper hand.

Her eyes flitted across the room in a manner in which Clyde could tell she was attempting to garner information about him. Classic. And just the sort of trait he was searching for in a shall we say, business partner. By now, you dear reader, may have put two and two together. IIf not, let me extrapolate upon what was going through the mind of Clyde Duval. You see, as I have mentioned previously, Clyde has found himself bored as of late.

He is still a criminal, however,even criminals get lonely. He did not hire Charlotte for her "services". Rather, he is searching for a... should we say, a Bonnie to his Clyde? Too obvious? Not obvious enough? To put it plainly, he wants a partner in crime, and this girl is as good as any. Ignoring the noise she made with her mouth he went ahead with his thought. "I have a proposition for you my dear." He said with a wink. "I'm offering a constant paycheck, rather good benefits, and a place to stay. Care to hear more?"

-OOC-
A short post cause I took so long Dx
Where oh where has Geebs Gone D:?-

[sbeeg]

~Old men, young men,
take 'em as they come
Harbor rats and alley cats
and every type of scum~

Was he going to say anything? Do anything? Tapping my fingernails against the wood of the table, I took in the room, becoming bored with the young man. Attempting to examine the entire space but with eyes that kept turning back to Clyde's coat by the door.
Hours must have gone by just sitting there, staring at the boy waiting for him to say something. Boredom took to frustration and I could hardly take it anymore.
"I have a proposition for you my dear." the sudden noise seemed unfamiliar in the air and I was taken by surprise. When the words finally sunk in, my shoulders sagged a bit. A proposition? That's the kind of stuff the sickos say before revealing their odd fetish for toenails or something. Whatever the case, I wasn't looking forward to it. "I'm offering a constant paycheck,"

My attention had been grabbed.
"rather good benefits, and a place to stay. Care to hear more?" I was caught up in his words and tried to make sense of them. A constant job? What kind of steady job was there for a working girl? A mistress? The kid looked a little too young for that kind of stuff- Oh God. Did he mean a wife? My mind banished the thought- no way. Nope.

But- the prospects did sound really good. I shouldn't shoot down proposals before they're even made.

"Go on," I said, waving my hand for him to continue and letting my bracelets jangle against the table.

Geebs checks in every so often- don't worry :3 She's just a little busy.