Reginald 'Reggie' Delallo (reggie_delallo) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2013-02-04 16:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | day eleven, reggie, reggie and rosa, rosa |
Practicing Their Spanish
Who: Rosa and Reggie
When: Late morning
Where: The kitchen
Rosa had managed to locate the kitchen on the map, but instead of going down there in her prison jumpsuit, she decided to take the time to sort through the real, actual clothing she’d been provided with. “This might be some sick joke, but I guess I can like it so far...” She said, pulling out a pair of worn jeans that just felt like home when she put them on. They even gave her a pair of cowboy boots. What the fuck was this place?
Dressed, Rosa headed down to the kitchen, getting turned around a couple times before finding it. Once there, she decided to rummage through the ridiculously well-stocked fridge. “Don’t they know this place is a prison?”
“They seem to be more interested in rehabilitating us, or at least that’s what the higher ups claim,” came a voice from the kitchen doorway. Reggie was leaning against the doorframe, wearing jeans and a t-shirt and bare feet. Seemed like he only wore shoes around here when he absolutely had to. “Trust me, though. You break a rule around here and they’ll make sure there’s hell to pay for it.” He grinned slightly. “I’m Reggie, the one with the cigarettes?”
Rosa was studying him when he spoke to her, narrowing her eyes a little at who the hell this guy was, but then he mentioned he was the one with the cigarettes and that changed her tone quickly. "You wanna explain this place to me over a smoke?"
“Sure,” Reggie said, fishing the cigarettes that he had brought her out of his shirt pocket, holding one out to her while popping the other into his mouth. He pulled out a box of matches and lit the one in his mouth before holding the matches out as well. “What’s your first question?”
This could not be happening right now. Five years since she'd seen a guy and here was the first one, offering her a cigarette. Crazy. Just pure craziness. She took it, though, and lit it, taking a long drag on it and letting it out with a pleased look on her face. "Ok so…what's the point of us all being here, really? They're saying rehabilitating, the thing on the computer said that, but…let's get real about it."
"To be frank with you, I'm not all too sure myself," Reggie admitted to her. Once she had the cigarette he offered, he took a drag off his own, leaning his head back and blowing the smoke into the air. "They say rehabilitation, and I wouldn't hate it if they were being truthful, but occasionally some weird shit happens around here that makes me think more 'social experiment.'" He saw no reason to not be completely frank with her. His British accent came out clearly as he talked with her. "Everyone is in here for different reasons, though. The rehab stuff isn't coming out quite clear yet." He took another drag off his cigarette. "Still, better than prison. I'll take occasional weirdness over prison any day."
Rehabilitation was a big assumption. How was that going to work, if they were just sticking everyone in here and crossing their fingers, which was kind of what it seemed like from Reggie's words. She tilted her head a little, watching him as she took in the British accent. "So you got locked up abroad? What for?"
“I lived in New York longer than I lived in England,” he said to her quickly. “Accent kind of stuck, though.” Plus, people liked it, so maybe he kept it a little on purpose. Could you blame him? “I was a car thief, actually, damn good one, too. Still, not good enough to not get drunk and drive through a shopping mall and then a river. Police tend to frown upon that.” He snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette. “My last seven years here is better than prison, though, even if I don’t get time off for ‘good behavior.’”
"Very 'Gone in 60 seconds' of you. What car was it that caused your downfall?" Rosa said, exhaling a long puff of smoke as she watched him. Car thief, she could get behind that. It was, at the very least, pretty cool. "Good thing you didn't die in that river or I'd never have gotten this cigarette."
“I’ve been told that more than once,” Reggie said with a bit of a grin. “I like to think that I’m much better looking than Cage, though.” He at least had all of his hair. That was a good bit going for him right there. “Car was a hot rod red Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, 2008.” He laughed when she said the last bit. “Glad that I could be of service then.” All in all, he was glad that he didn’t die, himself.
She watched him for a moment, took another drag on her cigarette, and let it out slowly. "Ok then, Hot Shot. What car should I steal? Lord knows I don't have the money to buy something that fancy, so if I'm gonna have a sweet car, which one should I steal?"
“Frankly, if you’re gonna steal something, you should snag anything that catches your eye,” Reggie pointed out to her. “I was stealing, well, mostly stealing for chop shops, so I went with the most expensive.” No point in stealing minvans when you were going for money. “Some go by color, make, model, year...some even scope out the owners and see if they look like the type to take care of their cars so that they’d get more money for them.” He shrugged, looking her over for a moment. “Personally, I think that you’d look great in a convertible, myself.”
“And here I was thinking that a hearse would be more appropriate. Ever try to steal a hearse before, Reggie?” Rosa asked, savoring another pull of the cigarette. She had to figure out where this guy had gotten them and if it had anything to do with that weird bracelet their ‘keepers’ were talking about.
He laughed when she asked if he had stolen a hearse before. "Sadly, not to my recollection. Now, I'm something of a drinker, but I think that's something that I would remember." Besides, there was little money in them, as far as stealing for a shop. Still, it would have been a hilarious story to tell other people. "Sounds like it would be fun, though." It wasn't like they were locked up all that tight, were they? Plus, it wasn't like he couldn't get past his fair share of locks.
"Well, the next time you steal a hearse, you'd better think of me." Rosa grinned around her cigarette. "So you wanna share the wealth of knowledge on where I can get some cigarettes of my own in this place? Or did you smuggle them in somehow?"
“If I ever steal a hearse, I’m picking you up and taking you for a joyride,” Reggie teased, taking a drag off his cigarette. “You can actually request things like cigarettes,” he explained. “And booze, they have real alcohol here. It’s a bar and everything.” Reggie had admittedly nearly fallen over and died when he saw that when he first walked into the place.
"You'd better. I'll curse you if you don't," Rosa said, a smirk on her lips as she listened. She'd probably try and convince him to just give her the hearse after he stole it, depending on if this situation was actually something that could happen in the real world. "Seriously, they have free booze, free cigarettes, and an intermingling of men and women? Are you sure we're not just breeding stock? Or some weird live porn or something?"
He laughed. “Actually, one of the ideas going around is that we’re actually a reality show,” Reggie pointed out. With how well that they were being taken care of, at least in some ways, it had made several people curious as to what was really going on. “Hopefully, these people are on the up and up. If I get out of here and see myself on TV, I’m going to be pissed.”
"Don't you have to consent to looking like a fool on television?" Rosa asked, looking around for a moment and finding the first cup she could to flick the ashes into, then putting it on the counter between her and Reggie. "Even if you're a criminal?"
He reached over and flicked his own ashes into the cup, making a mental note to make sure to rinse the thing out before leaving the kitchen as well. “You’d think so, but who knows what sort of ways they can come up with to get around it,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, wouldn’t it make for a better show if we didn’t really know we were on it?”
"Eh, I guess it would make for a better show, but if they have us signed up for a reality show, they'll be hearing from my lawyer." Probably the court appointed one that she had for her trial, but still. "Ok, so reality show or not, there's gotta be some killer scenes in this place if they're giving us booze and cigs and letting us roam freely. Where's your favorite place to hang out?"
"If this is a reality show, I think they will be hearing from a lot of lawyers," Reggie said with a laugh. He could only imagine the lawsuits. "I'd suggest the pool then, if you can swim." It was nothing short of amazing that Reggie could. He had only done it a handful of times in his life. "Apparently, we've got a real bar now to hang at. Haven't checked it yet, but it's on my list." A thought occurred. "Sometimes, they open locked doors up overnight. So, we're likely to be surprised with more stuff soon enough if we're good boys and girls."
"And everyone just goes along with this crap?" Rosa asked, looking around again at the full service kitchen. "Something weird has to be going on here. They don't just take out car thieves and drug traffickers and plop them down into a human zoo or something. A human zoo with weird, creepy doors that open overnight...Doors that open to what, though?”
“Told you, this place is a reality show,” Reggie said quickly with a shrug. “Most people here are pretty sure something kind of odd is going on.” The day of putting people in stocks was a big fat example of that. “As far as to what, one night it was to a garage. It’s actually where I spend a lot of my time. Another time it was a whole other wing to this place. Leads to the idea that there are multiple buildings attached to this place. They could have all sorts of stuff.”
"This place just seems so weird. Feels like we're in the Willie Wonka factory for criminals." Rosa flicked ash into the cup again and turned her head towards him. "So this garage, does it have any bikes in it? Lowriders? They're the only ones that count."
He started laughing when she said that this place was kind of like the Willie Wonka factory for criminals. "I've never heard it that way, but that's a fantastic way of putting it," he agreed, sticking his cigarette in the cup and stubbing it out. "Not yet, but we can always ask for one. Right now I'm fixing up a car. Needed something to do around here, after all."
“So they give you stuff too? Can I ask for anything and they’ll just provide it? Really starting to feel weird about this place...” As if the rest of it wasn’t strange enough, they were Santa Claus too? “Well, I don’t know much about cars, but I know some shit about motorcycles. You ask for one, maybe you’ll get some company in that garage of yours.”
“I think anything within reason. I haven’t heard of anything being rejected, and they give us booze, but I don’t think they’ll hand over a bomb or anything, either,” Reggie joked. “I can ask for a motorcycle, sure. I certainly wouldn’t hate some company in the garage.” Especially someone who knew a bit about what they were doing, even. He liked showing others what to do, but someone already knowing it was great, too.
“Yeah, well, you pick up a little about bikes when your father’s a member of Los Santos Muerte,” Rosa said, snubbing out her cigarette before depositing the butt in the cup, not sure what else to do with it really. Maybe she’d keep the cup as an ashtray of sorts. “So how do you ask for shit, you just...what, do a rain dance or something? Yell at the sky and hope they hear you?”
“As funny as the idea of telling someone to do a rain dance for it would be, you send a message to the administrators asking for what you want,” Reggie explained to her, leaning back against one of the walls. He really should convince one of the people around here to do a rain dance. It would be hilarious.
"And they just give it to you. Wild." Shaking her head, she looked his way. "Well, maybe I'll request a busted up bike to work on and hang out with you in the garage. Maybe I'll even teach you some Spanish, though it'll probably be cussing more than real conversational shit."
"Kind of amazing, isn't it?" They all seemed to.find it amazing that they got basically whatever they wanted in this place. It was fun. "I wouldn't mind learning some more Spanish. I know a few things, but it can't hurt to learn some more." Couldn't hurt one bit.
"Oh, yeah? What do you know, exactly? Impress me with your Spanish. I've never heard it with a British accent before," She said, grinning a little at him. "Just remember, if you fuck it up, I get to call you a shithead in Spanish."
Reggie had to think for a second to translate what he wanted to say in his head from English to Spanish. “Confía en mí, mi español no es nada impresionante,” he said slowly, grinning. It did sound a little odd with his British accent, actually. “Justo lo que he recogido de otros.”
That had Rosa smirking. It was great, really great, to have someone to talk to again like this. Sure, lots of the girls in the prison before this knew Spanish, but the conversations were confrontational and they hadn't been this way, just sort of…cordial…for a long time. The fact that he'd mentioned his Spanish wasn't impressive was funny, considering that for a British guy from New York, Rosa thought he'd done pretty well. "Su acento hace extraño sonido," She agreed, grinning still. "Pero yo puedo perdonar que si me das más cigarillos." It’d probably make more sense to just grab as many cigarettes off Reggie as she could before she had to navigate more of this weird ass criminal factory.
He laughed when she said that she’d forgive his accent making his Spanish sound a little funny if he gave her more cigarettes. “Bueno, cuando usted hace una oferta tan generosa, quién soy yo para negarme?” he said to her, still smiling. Seemed like it was a good enough trade to him. “Yo era lo suficientemente inteligente como para traer un poco más de mí.” While his own smoking was kind of light and social at best, he knew that most people who did smoke around here did so like a chimney, and had come prepared.
That had Rosa grinning more, extremely pleased. Holding a hand out for more cigarettes, she waited. "Así que tal vez usted me puede explicar cuál es el trato con estas pulseras también?"</i> She'd read enough on the journals to know that there was some new instigation of using bracelets for currency, but she needed more information than what she'd skimmed. Plus, since it was that on top of all this other information, Rosa had ended up doing what she did best: skimming and losing interest to read it more thoroughly.
“Eso es algo que es nuevo, también. No se supone que es una tienda de apertura que podemos comprar algo. Algo sobre los créditos que puede ganar a través de los puestos de trabajo que hacemos aquí,” he explained, talking a little slowly as he translated things in his head. “Nos votaron en puestos de trabajo el día de hoy. Supongo que se tratará de averiguar un trabajo para usted, también. En realidad, el trabajo de mantenimiento por aquí ahora.” Something he was glad about, even.
Bracelets that held imaginary 'chips' for their bartering pleasures. Crazy. Rosa shrugged a little. The idea that it tied heavily into the jobs kinda of sucked considering she didn't have one and had never carried a 'real' job before. Switching back to English, Rosa continued, "Read a little something about that. I voted and suggested we get whoever knows languages to get together and teach or something. Never been good at school, but figured it could be..I don't know, interesting I guess, to get some bilingual shit going on here. You know any other languages?" Other than Spanish and English, she did not, but a British man from New York that knew enough Spanish to converse with her? Probably had some other tricks up his sleeve.
Despite knowing Spanish, he was glad to switch back to his own native tongue for the time being. Not that he didn’t mind the practice with it. He had picked it up in New York, with some of the other car thieves that he had hung around. He shook his head. “Just the English and Spanish,” he told her. “The idea of someone teaching classes isn’t that bad of an idea, though. Maybe you could do some Spanish teaching? Hell, school is one thing, but you gotta know how to use it and actually speak with other people, right?”
"I can probably spread some knowledge around. It's the idea of a classroom that freaks me out. But if I'm teaching someone how to say 'Stay the fuck away' or 'I'll bash your head in', I can do that just fine. Figured it couldn't hurt, though, since they were throwing jobs around." Shrugging again, Rosa looked his way. "I was thinkin' of taking a walk around here, see what's in the area. You wanna join?"
“I think they’ll understand. I get the feeling that a lot of the people here aren’t exactly ‘learning in the classroom’ types, either,” he told her with a grin. “Probably better to suggest your own job rather than have them stick you with something stupid, anyway, right?” He nodded. “Sure, I could use a walk.”
He might be right about that, suggesting her own job before she got stuck on cooking duty or something. Nodding, she pushed off the table and grabbed the cup, thinking she’d need it for ashes again before too long. “Let’s get strolling, then.”