Refiennes Journal

Heath Ledger & The Brothers Fiennes

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 02:32:35 GMT

Joseph listens to Ralph's cell phone chiming out its reedy version of Big Spender through the locked bedroom door. Listens to another verse. And another. Finally bangs on the door. "Ralph? Are you going to answer your phone?"

No answer. The minute you walked in the joint...I could see you were a man of distinction... Joseph's mind conjures the lyrics. Even this horribly frightened and alone, he loves showtunes. "Ralph?" ...a real big spender...good lookin', so refined... "RALPH!!!" Nothing. Joseph begins to sniffle. Ralph hates it when he sniffles, so he tries to sniffle quietly. Lies his head miserably against the locked door.

Something slides into his bare foot with enough vehemence to make him wince. Joseph wipes his nose on his sleeve. Hey big spender... Bends down and retrieves Ralph's still-ringing phone. It was very smart of Ralph to buy that new RAZR V3, Joseph thinks, his old phone would never have fit beneath the door. "Hello? Ralph's phone."

A cheerful voice full of excitement chimes back at him, followed by a happy bark. "Joseph! God it's good to hear you again, how the hell are you doing?"

"Max!" The sorrow vanishes instantly. "And Heath too!"

The biggest, widest grin awakens on Heath's face at Joseph's high-pitched overjoyed squeal. Yeah, it's so nice to hear him again, even if he did get rather annoying at times. "Hey Joseph! And yeah, Max misses you too. We're in New York."

"You are?" This seems peculiar to Joseph. He and Ralph flew all the way to that particular city to rescue Heath, who presumably did not want to be in New York. "Are you there with Christoph and Mrs. Christoph again, Heath?"

"Huh?" Heath frowns, wondering where Joseph got that idea from. "God no, why would I want to be with them again? I'm avoiding them. Besides they won't recognise me again I doubt. I'm a nobody so don't worry." He grins and hopes he's reassuring Joseph and not scaring him.

"Good." It's very easy to reassure Joseph. "Heath? Can you and Max come over?" His tone suggests that New York might be walking distance from Los Angeles. "I'm so lonely. It's been nearly six whole days since Ralph locked the bedroom door and he won't even talk to me through the door anymore."

Ralph has locked Joseph in his room? If Heath had never met them before he'd be worried, but since meeting them he doesn't bat an eyelid. "I'd love to, Joseph, but that would take me another few months. Or a few hours if I had the money to fly there. Listen though, I will come back soon, I promise." Because hell, his lonely heart misses Ralph.

Cheered-up-Joseph reverts to Miserable-Joseph before Heath can finish speaking and lets out a piercing wail. "Months? Heath, I can't wait for months! It's already been six days and I'm lonely and the only thing that will slide under the door is pizza and pizza sucks!"

Heath responds with a long drawn out sigh. "Oh baby, I'm sorry. Can I talk to Ralph and see if I can get him to open the door?"

"I don't know. I'll try." More sniffling. "Ralph? Heath wants to speak with you?" A long pause is followed by a volley of fists against solid oak, made more thunderous on Heath's end by the fact that one of Joseph's fists is still clutching the phone. "RALPH PLEEEEASE OPEN THE DOOR PLEEEEASE!"

"Ow! Jesus..." Heath jerks the phone away from his ear until the banging has stopped then asks quietly, "Joseph, perhaps if asked nicely and didn't shout he would do it?" That said, Heath is surprised that Ralph didn't come running at the chance to talk to him again. Perhaps the long distance relationship had killed his love? A sick feeling finds it's way into Heath's stomach and he swallows deeply. Don't do this to me Ralph, please.

Sensing his companion's sadness, Max cocks his head to one side and stares at him for a few seconds then whines and lays his furry chin on Heath's arm.

"I'll try," Joseph says again. "Ralph?" He squats and pushes the phone back under the door and calls after it, "That's Heath. He wants to speak with you, please and thank you."

When the RAZR shoots back into his bare feet this time, it does so twice, having been snapped in two at the join. Joseph snatches them up frantically. Places one piece against his ear, the other to his mouth. "Heath?"

"Hello? Ralph? Hello?" Heath hears Joseph, hears what sounds like the phone sliding somewhere. There are a few shuffling sounds and then the phone goes dead. "Fuck! Joseph, what the hell did you do..." Heath curses, slams the phone back on the base and stares hard at the bar top. But it's not Joseph, it's Ralph. Ralph, what is wrong with you?

"Heath?" Joseph switches the piece of phone at his ear with the piece at his mouth. "Heath?" Finally presses both pieces together and sets them aside. Begins to cry in earnest, not caring if Ralph hears or not, as he turns and trudges away from the locked door.

Trudges on. Trudges down the hallway and through the living room and out into the garden. He's going to have to dig up one of his buried stashes to pay for the pizza tonight. Joseph has no access to his brother's bank accounts and has used up all his pocket money in the six days since Ralph barricaded himself into the bedroom.

The Brothers Fiennes

Thu, 06 Jul 2006 00:15:25 GMT

"I think you owe me an explanation."

Ralph glances up from the blueprint of Tiffany's he's been poring over to find Joseph, face-scowling and foot-tapping, a stack of letters clutched in one white knuckled hand. Sighs heavily. "Joseph. I don't know how to find Heath. It seemed less upsetting to you for me to let you think he was receiving your letters but, I simply don't know where to send them."

"Liar."

"Be careful." Ralph's emerald eyes narrow dangerously.

"You are a liar. He said he was going to New York. You could have sent them to him in care of the Citadel Club in New York."

Ralph blinks. Blinks and blinks as the blueprints slide unnoticed from his lap. The fool is right. He could have contacted Heath, through the New York club...assuming that Heath wished to be contacted. An expression of utter amazement crosses his face. "When did you get so smart?" His hand reaches lovingly for Joseph's cheek.

Joseph steps back from the caress. "Nobody ever thought me dumb, except for you."

"I don't think you're dumb, Little Brother." Ralph stands, reaches again for Joseph. "Give me the letters. I'll attend to them right now." His own stockpile of letters to Heath is quite large. How could he have failed to come up with this solution, so obvious in hindsight?

"No." Joseph takes another step back. "I'll attend to them myself." He spins and heads for the door. Stops just shy of leaving to shoot one more contemptuous glare at Ralph. "And, don't think I'll trust you with anymore letters to Santa, either. I'll be mailing those myself, as well, from now on."

Tue, 09 May 2006 00:54:16 GMT

"Ralph! Watch this!"

Ralph hurries into the neutral living area with a sense of dread. Experience has taught him that Watch this! from Joseph is inevitably a precursor to disaster. He flings the door open. Finds Joseph kneeling beside that damnable fishbowl. And a second fishbowl.

"I taught Gil a trick!" Joseph beams, cracking a tiny shoelace whip above the bowls.

"Joseph. This is getting old. It's a fish. A fucking fish. A..." And damned if the fish doesn't leap from one bowl into the other. Ralph's jaw drops.

"Good boy." Joseph sprinkles fishfood. "Ralph, I need some little hoops."

"You're spending too much time with that fish."

"Flammable ones. I want to teach Gil to jump through a flaming hoop."

"Stop that. It's. A. Fish." There's something disturbing about Joseph's fixation on the goldfish, Ralph can't quite put his finger on it.

Joseph pouts. "You wouldn't buy me a Max."

And there it is. Max, the amazing blowjob-administering dachshund. If that mental image was unsettling, the image replacing it, of Joseph with a puckered goldfish stuck to his wang, is downright excruciating. "Get dressed. We're going out."

"Oh, good!" Joseph bounces. Ralph hasn't taken him out for months. "I'll get my good shoes and my condoms and Gil's plexiglass traveling bowl."

"Bring the condoms. Leave the fish."

The Brothers Fiennes minus Heath

Tue, 02 May 2006 01:56:59 GMT

"Joseph? What are you doing?"

"I'm building a little Atlantis for Gil." Joseph pokes his tongue from the corner of his mouth in fierce concentration, plugs llego-to-llego-to-llego.

It's not a bad job, Ralph thinks. His first guess would have been an American Pizza Hut but, now that he's been advised of the ultimate goal, he's got to admit...Joseph's eye for a goldfish-sized Atlantis doesn't entirely suck. He strokes his brother's hair. Hurts the same way he's fairly sure Joseph is hurting, and then some. Kisses his brother's brow.

"Ralph?" Joseph carefully tacks a fishfood-dispensing drive-thru onto Gil's underwater paradise. "Have you heard anything from Heath?"

Tue, 07 Mar 2006 23:26:52 GMT

[Package sent to Heath Ledger, c/o Mrs. Christoph, from Joseph Fiennes]

Dear Heath,

I miss you. I baked these cookies for you. Please come home.

Joseph

The Brothers Fiennes: No Kidnappers, No Kidnappees. Just a Private SNAFU

Mon, 13 Feb 2006 02:45:33 GMT

Joseph's not eating. Ralph has laid out an eclectic buffet of his favorites ranging from filet mignon to Froot Loops but there he sits, just staring at the wall and twirling that heavy gold ring he's holding. Over and under, up one sleeve and down the other. Even Ralph has to admit that the boy's sleight of hand is impressive...although the ring, now that he thinks of it, is something of a mystery. He was sure he'd cleaned out all of his brother's hidey holes weeks ago.

"Where did you have that little bauble stashed?"

"Up my ass." Twirl. Spin.

Ralph glances up. Blinks. Joseph's been out of commission for days, weeks, hasn't had contact with any potential victims except... "Joseph, please...please tell me you didn't steal Christoph Walken's wedding band?"

"Of course not." Disappear. Re-appear. Twirley-twirl. "Christoph doesn't wear a wedding band."

"Then what is that you're playing with?"

"Mrs. Christoph's wedding band."

The fork clatters from Ralph's hand to his plate. "Give it to me."

Joseph complies. He hadn't much cared for the ring anyway. Too gauche.

Per Georgianne Maggio la nostra unione riesce lunga e Affettuoso, Christoph the inscription confirms, just before the ring follows the fork with a plunk into Ralph's garlic mashed potatoes. "Joseph. I am going to courier this ring back anonymously to its owner, while I still have nine functioning digits remaining..." Ralph displays the metal-splinted index finger of his left hand. "...and you are not leaving these premises again before you're sixty."

"What do I care? I don't have any friends to visit anyway."

"Christ on a cracker, not this again."

Definitely this again. Joseph glares at Ralph, the self-pity radiating from him in thick cloying waves.

"Stop it. Right now. It is not my fault Heath had to be left behind. I tried to save him."

"You didn't try very hard."

"Did it entirely escape your notice that I was in considerable pain by that point? She broke my finger, you fucking self-absorbed idiot."

"She told you not to touch her, then you touched her. Don't call me an idiot."

Ralph's losing control. Control of his business, control of Joseph, and most definitely control of himself. "Eat. Your. Dinner."

Joseph's arms cross stubbornly across his chest. "And Christoph won't like me anymore because you played with his boy without asking him first."

"I did not have sexual relations with that boy."

""Which only means you didn't fuck him. That may fool a Senate Judiciary Committee but it doesn't fool me."

"Stop reading newspapers, it makes you even more insufferable. And eat your goddamned Froot Loops."

Joseph eats, but his amber eyes are fixed accusingly on Ralph. "So, now I can't see Heath anymore and Christoph won't like me anymore," he sums up, through a mouthful of revoltingly colorful cereal. "I guess you're finally happy."

"Christoph never liked you, Joseph, how do you get your head that far up your ass without Brylcreem?"

"He did like me! He killed that smelly guy who had sex with Heath just for hurting me."

"...What smelly man?"

"The one who had sex with Heath. He smelled like the monkey cage at the zoo. Ugly, too." Crunch-crunch. "Max also had sex with Heath, but Christoph didn't kill Max."

"Joseph, look at me." It's not time to panic just yet. Joseph's memory can't be trusted, after all, and he lacks the imagination to contrive a story which can't be discredited on cross-examination. "You saw this happen? You were there, in the room, and saw this happen?"

Another nod. "Yes. Max fucked Heath and sucked him off at the same time, right in front of me." Joseph pauses, reconsiders. "Actually, it was more like he licked Heath off than sucked Heath off."

Gaaaahhh! "Not the fucking, the killing. Joseph, you watched Christoph Walken kill a man?" Now, it's time to panic. Faked deaths and phony passports and witness relocation to Buenos Aires...

"Yes." Joseph refills his cereal bowl, and finally seems to notice the alarm on his brother's face. "He was a bad man, Ralph," he explains kindly. "Christoph did a good thing, killing him." Adds milk. "It bothered me too, at first, but I've been thinking about it and that man needed killing."

"Did he, now? Because of his lack of hygiene? Because he fucked Heath when you wanted him to fuck you?" It's been exhausting enough, trying to curb Joseph's incompetent petty larcenies, now Walken, that psychotic son of a bitch, has glorified murder for him? First things first, though. Ralph'll worry about Joseph's aptitude for committing murder after he's convinced that Joseph won't be murdered. Why...why...would a man living in a glass penthouse like Christopher Walken deem it safe to leave Joseph as witness to a homicide?

Joseph cocks his filled cereal spoon, takes aim, and fires. "I did not want him to fuck me."

Asked and answered, Ralph thinks, mopping the soggy cereal from his face, too relieved to be angry. "You're getting away with that without punishment, this once, because I love you." If God watches after fools and Irishmen, Joseph's half-wit and maternal lineage apparently have him covered.

"Love you too." Joseph eats. "Ralph? Can I have a Max?"

"A what?"

"You remember, I told you about Max. I want one."

"Ah yes, the amazing Max, who can simultaneously fuck and suck a man." Ralph mumbles, disinterested, turning his attention to fishing Georgianne "The Devil" Walken's wedding band from his potatoes and polishing it with his napkin. "You want me to buy you a contortionist?"

"No, I'm pretty sure Max is a dachshund." Crunch-crunch.

Thu, 26 Jan 2006 22:38:19 GMT

(follows this and this)

WARNING for MURDER. Not as in "stop, you're killin' me," as in actual NPC Death.

Ceramic tiles are much harder on the head than plaster walls, but what Joseph lacks in common sense, he compensates in determination. He doesn't appreciate being moved to the bathroom so that Heath and the smelly guy can have their privacy. The stinking underwear is still stuffed into his mouth, so he protests as best he can. Bang...bang...BANG...

Gardner's number one goon hears the banging as he comes down the hall, mistakenly assuming that Joseph has broken free, is trying to escape. He hustles his waddle to a rolling jog, fat jiggling to a stop as he skids into the small room. The banging doesn't cease. Joseph's eyes are closed, and he doesn't even act like he's noticed that he has an audience for his tantrum. The man, who may or may not have a real name, and is only ever referred to as 'youse' shakes his own head, wincing in instinctive sympathy as he drags Joseph's chair back, putting the man out of range of the wall.

"You're gonna brain youself and then what would we do, eh?" His accent is thick, possibly South African at one point, now garbled from years of New England living. "Come now, les'get you into the tub, friend."

He tugs the underwear free from Joseph's mouth with no real distaste. His boss has had him deal with far worse anyway.

"I want to go home, now." Joseph steps into the warm water, just the same. This man smells as bad as the other man, but has kinder eyes. Eyes that are focused on him, Joseph, rather than on Heath. "Can I go home, now?"

"We've got someone coming," Youse tells him, unwrapping the knotted rope from Joseph's wrists. "But we want you all clean for him, yes?"

"Okay." It's not okay. Joseph wants to go home, and the man's hands are grainy as sandpaper, but the warm water is nice, and he doesn't want to offend the only person who has shown him any attention since this latest level of the Game began.

"That's good," the man tosses a washcloth, only slightly less grimy than the brown stained tub, and a bar of soap into the water. "Rub a dub..."

The new smelly man has kind eyes, but no appreciation of art. Joseph puts on a fine performance, washing himself, despite his aching head, and the man never so much as raises a brow. Plunk back into the water. "I want to go home!"

"Yes, yes. It's good." Perhaps Youse is hard of hearing, more likely just used to ignoring the pleas of men that he can't afford to feel sympathy for. "You done now? Got you some nice accoutrement here." It's a big word, and Youse is proud of it, obviously, even though it doesn't mean exactly what he must think it does.

"Yes." New Smelly Guy seems unconvinced, so Joseph squeaks his fingers across his very-clean torso. "Now, can I go home?"

"Get yourself dressed. I'll go check with The G." His use of the nickname that Gardner had pompously chosen for himself is almost fond. Youse pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "I'm locking this. No funny stuff, right?"

G? Is that his name? No matter. "That smelly guy sucks, and so does Heath," Joseph answers, toweling himself. Prettily, he thinks. But his efforts seem as lost on this man as on Heath's smelly new boyfriend. Not fair.

Without another comment the door is closed. The lock and hasp clicking shut sounds through the peeling wood and then Youse waddling footsteps fade away.

Bang, goes Joseph's head against the tile. Bang...bang...BANG...

He's still banging, though more slowly and with only a fraction of the original enthusiasm when the waddling steps return. It's been a while, quite a while and despite the lessing of the force behind the head banging, Joseph has worked up quite a knot on his forehead. Youse sees it immediately, blanching pale under the normally pasty skin. "Fuck."

"There you are." Joseph blinks dumbly at the mafioso hood from beneath the huge goose-egg rising on his forehead. "I want. bump To go. bumpity-bump HOME. BUMP-BUMP-BUMP...

"Stop that!" Youse jerks him back from the wall. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Big Boss is gonna kill me...."

Indeed, Christoph is anything but happy when he sees the condition that Joseph is in. He makes one noise, harsh with his displeasure, and V clears Gardner and his round henchman from the room. "Are you alright? I came as soon as I heard," Christoph touches Joseph's forehead gently.

"Christoph!" Joseph collapses into the arms of his savior. "No, I'm not all right at all, Christoph, Heath fucked the smelly guy and the other smelly guy wasn't nice and Ralph hasn't come. I am so mad at Ralph, Christoph."

"He's been rather irresponsible with you," Christoph pets the soft hair at the base of Joseph's skull. "They didn't hurt you did they?" He glances up at D, nods to close the door to the hall where Gardner's nasal voice is whining about payment.

Cries against Christoph's chest. "Hurt me." Cries-cries-cries Wants to go home. It's all right, now. Christoph will take him home.

"The smelly guy and his friend... and Heath? All of them hurt you?" The sound of Gardner arguing with V seeps around the closed door. Christoph tucks Joseph closer, his arm blocking the noise.

Joseph digs his nose into the fine material and nods. Much better now. Christoph smells nice. Christoph feels nice.

"I take care of my own..." A promise. A threat. D opens the door and V drags Gardner back in, his thick necked goon two steps behind, looking ashamed and sick.

Youse wrings his hands, an odd looking gesture given his size, "I swear I didn't mean for him to hurt his head..."

Gardner growls, "Shut up Youse. We aren't apologizing for anything to this double crossing two bit swine...."

A gentle push puts Joseph in D's arms as Christoph steps forward. Christoph's wrist flicks, the brittle flash of steel bringing Gardner stuttering to a halt before he changes channels and starts up anew.

"No... you... wait, wait, I'll go with whatever uhhhhhthp...."

The soft spatter of blood hitting the wall is startling in the sudden quiet. Christoph turns, faces Gardner's man before Gardner's body even hits the floor. Face a serene mask of calm, Christoph crosses the floor, thumb idly wiping Gardner's blood from the switchblade.

Youse slips to his knees, eyes huge. "Please, Boss."

Joseph's sense of relief is beginning to falter. "Is that real blood?" he asks, blinking up at D.

"Hush," the near whisper from D is sympathetic, as is the touch to Joseph's hair as the burly man firmly turns Joseph away from the scene.

"Please!" Youse shouts, near desperate as he turns to face Joseph. "I didn't hurt you, right kid? Tell 'em we're chums, eh..."

Christoph steps between Joseph and Youse, cutting off the already limited view the man had of Joseph's back. The beady eyes waiver, look up finally to meet Christoph's silver gaze. "Don't hurt me..."

Joseph can't see the terrified man, but he can hear him. The concept that he, Joseph, may have sealed the fate of the dead man on the floor is almost but not quite beyond Joseph's comprehension. Ralph had dealt with the schoolyard bullies of his youth with similar, albeit far less extreme, methods. Then, if Joseph told Ralph that a bully hurt him, that bully would magically cease to hurt Joseph, sometimes even compensate him for previously flushed lunches and slashed bicycle tires. Now, Joseph has told Christoph that the dead man hurt him, and the dead man is now a dead man. He also told Christoph that the now-pleading-man hurt him. And Heath...

"No-no-no-no!" Joseph screams, struggling uselessly against D to turn around. "He didn't hurt me, Christoph! He was just on his way to get me an ice bag for my head!"

There is a hush in the room, broken only by the too harsh breathing of Youse. Finally, Christoph nods. His expression doesn't change from the harsh expression he's worn since entering this rat hole, but he's internally quite pleased. Two lessons learned quite well and one blossoming problem quickly pruned.

He nods at the corpse, the sticky puddle beneath it continuing to expand. Eyes flick to the kneeling man before him, "Youse can take care of that?"

Youse nods, "Aye.... Boss?"

"Good." Curtly Christoph wipes the knife on Youse's shoulder, looking over at D. "Get Joseph to the car."

"Heath!" The image of the dead man behind him is beginning to fully register and Joseph doesn't want to go anywhere with Christoph, not without "HEATH!"

V nods, slips from the room.

"My man will bring him out, let's go," Christoph follows as D drags Joseph to the door.

The dead man is in his path. Joseph has to raise his feet to step over the dead man as D hustles him out of the room. "Christoph? This isn't a game at all, is it?"

"Depends on your definition of game, Joseph," says Christoph softly. The steps creak and groan with each step as the descend to the ground floor, "Life has rules. Consequence and reward. I think it's a good, whatcha call it? Analogy?"

"Metaphor," D banters back.

Christoph clucks his tongue a moment. "Allegory!"

Analogy or metaphor or allegory, Joseph has had his fill. "Please, Christoph," he whimpers. "Please take me home, now?"

"Everything's going to be alright, JoJo," Christoph reassures, patting Joseph's shoulder. "Just trust in me."

The Counter-Kidnapping of Heath and Joseph

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 03:42:33 GMT

(players only)

WARNING: This is a wip. No non-con coitus actually occurs here, though the situation is grim.

And an extra caution for the extreme ugliness of the character Gardner.

Grumbling at Joseph for taking all the bedroll, Heath goes to turn over to win back said items, only to find that something stops him. Thinking it may be Joseph playing games with his legs again, he scrunches his eyes up then cracks them open, squinting up at a ceiling. Ceiling? What the fuck? He tries to turn over again and hears the rattling of chains and bed frame from both above and below him, explaining why his legs and arms aren't going anywhere. Fucking hell... where the fuck am I? "Joseph, what did you do?"

Gardner putters over the space heater, fiddling with the dials until the element kicks back on. Turns to smile at his guests. "There you are. I was beginning to think I'd used too much. You guys haven't been eating as good as you should," he licks chapped lips, looking Joseph over and checking his pulse.

Joseph frowns, curls his nostrils. Snores.

The new voice startles Heath awake. That's most definitely not Joseph. Wide eyed he looks around the little room, a strong smell of cheap cigars hitting his nostrils. "Who the hell are you?" he enquires darkly at the shriveled man leaning over Joseph. Joseph. Thank god I haven't lost him. As Heath gets a good look at the man however, his eyes narrow, the relief at seeing Joseph there - tied to a chair beside the bed, which Heath finds himself laying on - short lived. "Leave him alone."

Facing Heath, Gardner's thin lips widen into a grotesque smile of rotten, tobacco stained teeth. "Oh, I do like a boy with spirit." The mattress gives a screech of protest as he sits down beside Heath. He leans in, greasy hair flopping, comb-over gone askew. Trails a jagged and stained fingernail up Heath's chest, "Do you have a name?"

It's only then that Heath realizes he's naked, when that disgusting nail tickles light hairs and skin. And suddenly he's overly suspicious, every word that leaves his mouth thought about thoroughly. "No. Not one I can remember."

"Heath?" Joseph awakens in slow stages. Wrinkles his nose at the smelly man, blinks Heath into focus. Does not understand why he and Heath are naked and tied off to furniture. This game is not fun, anymore. "Heath?"

"Heath," Gardner repeats, the name coming out with a hiss of anticipation. "I like that," his hand reaches a nipple, plucking at the cold hardened nub. "Like it a lot." Faded brown eyes flick to Joseph. "Glad you could join us Joseph. You're waking up just in time for the fun," he punctuates the word with a twist to Heath's other nipple.

"Fuck!" A sharp breath rushes past Heath's clenched teeth and he glares at the man. There's a telltale hint of fear in his brown eyes, however. This man is certainly not in any hurry to kill them.

"Heath?" Softer. Less certain. The smelly man is pinching Heath's nipples, and Heath doesn't seem to be enjoying it. Joseph cringes into the chair, tugs at the restraints. No, this game is not fun anymore.

"Fuck?" Gardner chuckles, tongue flicking over his lower lip. "We'll get there. Thought I'd be nice and give you a little warm up first." He pets the other man's chest. Heath's skin is smooth, cool against his sweaty palm.

If he wanted to become a martyr, Heath would be quite happy in his current position. Then at least all the crap stuff would be happening to him instead of Joseph, whom he's trying to protect. He's not. Bummer. Throat dry, he squirms, the man's hand feeling clammy and uncomfortable on his chest. "What do you want?" Besides sex, because that's frightfully obvious. "You can't be after money, that's for damn sure."

Joseph doesn't mince words. "Heath, he smells bad and I want to go home."

Hearing the pitiful child-like voice, Heath looks over to Joseph, his eyes full of sympathy and cleverly masking the fear that was in them. If Joseph saw that Heath was afraid, he would panic. But what can he say to him? "I'm sorry, Joseph, I'm working on it, I am."

Gardner lets them talk, unconcerned. His focus is on the lithe form shackled to his bed. Petting, prodding, stroking at Heath like child with a new puppy.

His fingers thread into the soft hair at Heath's navel, wriggling through the thickening mass of crinkly hair until his hand bumps the softness of Heath's cock. He twists his wrist to palm the column of flesh, pump it. "You have a nice dick," he observes.

It's hard to ignore the man and impossible to forget about the direction he's taking this. Heath strains desperately to keep calm, holding on for Joseph, and he finds it helps if he keeps focused on the trembling form in the chair. "Joseph, I need you to think for me," he says as steadily as he can, though as Gardner manipulates his cock, Heath struggles with his composure. "What did you do after I'd gone?" Christoph. It has to be. Or at least one of his goons.

"FIRE!" Joseph screams. Ralph said that, if he ever found himself in a bad situation, he should scream Fire! This situation seems very bad to Joseph. "I didn't do anything, Heath, except call Ralph, and FIRE!"

The talking was easy enough to ignore. The yelling is annoying. And entirely too distracting. The bed lets out a squawk as Gardner stands up. He glares at Joseph. "Yap yap yap," he complains. It only takes him a moment to strip. His nakedness magnifies the rancid ugliness of his body. Plucking his soiled underwear from the heap of clothes on the floor, he approaches Joseph, "Can't keep it up with you howling like that."

Squeak, goes Joseph's chair, as he flattens against it, eyes fixed on the erect penis jutting from beneath the pot belly. "Heath?"

Having only just recovered from hearing that Joseph called Ralph - Christoph, definitely - Heath hurriedly intervenes. "Hey, come on, he'll keep quiet." He looks pointedly at Joseph, silently telling him that that's the only way he'll be left alone with any luck. "Leave him alone."

Gardner shakes his head, his fingers finding a fistful of Joseph's hair and jerking, his other hand crumpling the underwear, "Should have thought of that before you went and made all that noise." Right on cue, Joseph's mouth flies open, protesting the hair pulling. The fetid wad of fabric go in, a dingy sock threaded through the leg holes behind his head and tied off. "There you go," Gardner laughs, a spray of spittle misting outward, hitting Joseph's cheek. "Nice and quiet now."

With a leer, he turns back to Heath. "Now. Where were we pretty boy?"

Heath winces in sympathy for Joseph, but as Gardner turns back to him, he feels the bile rising up in his throat, almost in anticipation for what is going to happen. "You were going to tell me if you're working for Christoph...."

Heath Ledger & Joseph Fiennes: First Day in Hiding

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 21:52:57 GMT

"Okay, okay, one more time." Joseph crouches, shifts his close-set eyes side to side. "I spot the mark and signal you, or, the other way around?"

"No," Heath tells him for the seventh time this morning, "you find a nice spot where lots of people will pass by and for Christ's sake, stop scaring the children!"

"If they're that easily frightened, then I don't see why their mums turn them loose to begin with." Joseph finds a nice spot beside a rubbish can, settles in, fidgets. His new flannel clothing is scratchy, not like the silks Ralph always dressed him in, but Heath assures him that it's all part of the game. Just like sleeping on that sewer grate, last night, wrapped in newspapers. Part of the game. "Heath? Can we have lunch, now? I want to go to '21' for lunch. They know how I like my filet mignon." Tugs at his collar. Scratches his neck.

Heath sighs in frustration and turns to Joseph, hands on hips. "Sure Joseph, you can go to 21 for lunch, if you think you can afford a filet mignon with the few cents and couple of sweet wrappers that you earnt for yourself this morning." He takes off his cap and rakes a hand through his short hair, definitely long suffering. And he's only spent one morning with Joseph so far. Face meet palm. Finding a better spot - closer to a popular picnic area, Heath sets down his bags and takes out his didgeridoo - always a good crowd gatherer. "Okay, so you need a way of entertaining people - a legal way of entertaining people."

"Afford?" Joseph parrots the word as though trying to decipher it's meaning. There is no afford. At lunchtime, Ralph takes him to 21, he has filet mignon, Ralph hands the man a credit card. Joseph slumps into a pouting heap on the sidewalk. "You're being mean to me, Heath." Appears on the verge of adding, I'll hold my breath 'til I turn blue. This whole winter camping trip seems less fun now than it had in it's planning stages. Ralph isn't here, Heath is being mean, and Joseph is cold and hungry.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being practical and realistic. You want lunch? You better start earning the money with which to pay for it. If not, you'll go hungry until you do." It's not nice having to do this to Joseph, but Heath knows the only way to get it through to him is by being brutally honest.

"What do you want me to do?" Pouty. Lower lip pooched pathetically. Trick deck of cards splayed uselessly across his lap.

"Well, have a play around with them. See what you can do with them. You don't have to know any card tricks, perhaps you're good with your hands, dexterous. You could make the card disappear for example." With that, Heath picks up one of the cards and seconds later it's gone, hidden carefully behind his hand.

"Ooooh." Joseph's eyes brighten. Then narrow crossly, as he shuffles through his remaining deck and derives fifty-one. "Give me back my card."

With a flick of his wrist, Heath brings the card back into view and hands it back. "Now, if you can't do that, there are some tricks I can teach you."

"I can do that." Joseph defensively makes the same card disappear. His hands, if not his brain, are clever and agile. "This too." Makes Heath's watch disappear. "And I'm hungry. Heath, can't we have lunch now?"

Heath's jaw clenches, relaxes, clenches again. "Okay, you can have lunch now, but don't expect me to pay for your dinner."

Joseph snares Heath's hand and weaves delightedly down Sunset Boulevard. "I have to mail a postcard, afterward, Heath. Ralph gave me thirty postcards and said I should send them, one per day, to this post office box address, I'm not supposed to send them to him, at home. I'm going to fill out this one and tell him that we're lunching at 21."

His eyebrows narrow and Heath tugs Joseph closer, talking in a hushed voice. "Why the postcards? And no, we're not lunching at 21." Grabbing Joseph's other hand, Heath stops them both dead and tugs Joseph over to the shop windows, out of the way of shoppers. Before Joseph had tugged him away, he'd managed to persuade Joseph to let him collect his instruments before leaving. "I'm going to take you to a better place, believe me you'll love it." He doesn't dare take Joseph to any of the places he used to visit frequently, just in case Christoph decides to stalk around them, knowing that Joseph might be back.

"I don't know." Joseph trails along behind Heath, regarding the first of his thirty postcards, inexplicably picturing a llama looking out of a New York taxicab. "Ralph wants me to send them. He took away my cell phone, and said I should send the postcards instead. I think it's part of the game. And why can't we lunch at 21?"

Ah, now that makes sense. Phones can be traced if they're used, and even though postcards may be able to be found, there'll be no from address on them. For the first time since meeting Ralph, Heath is actually glad Joseph has a brother like him.

"We'll post it after lunch, yeah?" Heath says, leading the way and making sure Joseph doesn't get distracted by anything shiny on the way and wanders off. "Come on, I know a really great place where we can get some ice cream."

Joseph and Heath

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 20:16:27 GMT

With the air getting colder and the wind picking up, Heath figures it's about time he invested in some insulation. Last winter someone had given him a large woolly jumper, but during the summer he'd had to get rid of it as it had been too bulky to carry around with him the whole time. Smaller things are easier since he can tie them to the handles of his bags, or fit them in with his lute and pipes. So a scarf is ideal, and his neck has been getting rather cold these past couple of days.

Doing a spot of shopping in Walmart, he finds a gorgeous fluffy warm one and instantly takes it with him to the till. That will last him a good few years at least. Just as he's heading out of the store there's a commotion in the cosmetics section, and as he turns to see what the fuss is about, Heath's eyes widen as he sees Joseph - yes, it is Joseph - being manhandled by a security guard.

"How am I supposed to know if the compact fits compactly into my pocket without inserting it into my pocket?" Joseph is livid. "Unhand me!"

Heath approaches them both and gives Joseph a curious look as if to say 'are you being serious?' He turns to the red-faced guard. "Excuse me, but what's going on here exactly?"

Joseph swings on the newcomer...beams initially when he spots Heath, before he realizes that Heath, dressed like a vagrant and groomed not-recently, can hardly improve his situation. "Unhand me, Brute!"

"Man, stop shouting! Look officer, he's innocent... it was me who put these things into his pockets." Heath gives Joseph a warning glare, daring him to say otherwise. He doesn't want to see his 'friend' go to court or anything.

No argument from Joseph. He nods fervently, darts an accusing finger at Heath. "It was him!"

Bloody hell! Didn't hesitate much, did you? As much as he wants to, Heath can't deal with Joseph now. He'd love to give him a kick in the bollocks to go with the one Joseph just gave him, but the guard is quick to accuse and ushers Heath away.

Joseph draws himself up before the apologizing security guard, harumps, heads for the door. Glances back at Heath, being hauled off...pauses...

Heath looks back over his shoulder at the figure standing in the doorway. Okay, this was a stupid idea. Next time Joseph can dig himself out of his own hole.

"Officer?" Joseph pulls his money clip from his pocket. "I'm sure we can clear up this misunderstanding, if I might speak to you, privately?"

The officer turns and snarls at Joseph, but his eyes light up greedily at the sight of the money. "I'm listening."

Heath clutches his bought and paid for scarf - in - bag to his chest and shakes his head at Joseph. No, don't be stupid.

Joseph smiles his most charming smile. Presses a thick stack of large bills into the porky hand of the security guard. "No problem, right?"

He checks the bills closely, just to make sure they aren't forgeries, then grins toothily at Joseph. "No problem. Just don't let me catch you doing it again, y'hear?"

Staring at the bills as they're passed from one hand to the other, Heath shakes his head in disbelief. Always one to be careful with the money he earns, to see it being given away so carelessly makes him slightly pissed off.

Joseph nods amiably to the security guard, weaves through the crowded store toward the exit. Chuckles. Displays the wad of bills the security guard had thought safely tucked into his pocket.

Heath blinks once, twice, then he sets his bag down carefully and extends his arms. Gently placing his hands around Joseph's neck, he says, "If you do that again, I will not be held responsible for my actions, however bloody they may be."

"It all worked out, in the end. What's the problem?" Tucks the bills into his pocket. Glances up...suddenly wary. "Don't tell Ralph."

"Why not?" Heath lifts an inquisitive eyebrow and retrieves his bag with his scarf.

"He wouldn't understand."

Heath doesn't quite understand the brothers' dynamic yet, but that answer is enough for him to let the matter go. "Well, nice seeing you again and all. Guess you better be getting back to him, eh? Before you're late for curfew."

Joseph watches Heath stalk off, honestly baffled. "Why are you mad at me?"

"I ain't mad," Heath mumbles, hat pulled lower over his eyes, one hand stuffed in pocket. "Just want to know why you're so eager to throw money away carelessly like that."

"I was trying to save you!" Plaintive you should be thanking me tone. "Besides, I didn't throw any money away. I got it all back." Joseph again displays the wad of bills, along with something extra. "Got his watch, too."

"Oh Jesus..." He has to laugh, a rough gravely sound that comes from his belly. Heath throws an arm around Joseph's shoulders and guides him out of the store, a smile on his face. "Come on, lets get you back."

The curfew comment is only now registering and Joseph puffs up. "I don't have to go back anywhere, Ralph doesn't run my life." He glances at his newly-acquired watch. "Besides, he won't be home for almost two hours."

Heath nods, but he's still doubtful. If Joseph doesn't belong to Ralph, then why does he put up with the crap? Heath knows all about the lives of dominants and submissives, Masters and slaves, but this is different. Perhaps it's just because he doesn't understand the dynamic. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm..." Joseph trails off. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "What are you going to do?"

"Me?" Heath shrugs, looks down at his bag. "Go back to my hotel room, get myself sorted then probably go out to get more money."

Joseph flashes on the obscene amount of cash he'd discovered inside the battered case the night Heath spent with Ralph and himself. He can't question Heath outright about discovering his hidden wealth without admitting that he'd been inside Heath's case, but he thinks that either Heath is some sort of world class busker or Heath is running scams far superior to his own. "I want to come with you. I'm thinking about becoming a busker also."

Heath breaks out into rich laughter. "I'm sorry, mate, I'm not hiring sidekicks. It's a fucking tough job, don't you know. Don't get much money, just about enough to survive if you're lucky."

Uh-huh...to survive at Club Med... Joseph's not buying it. Winks at Heath to let him know that he's not buying it but doesn't mind Heath having tried to pull the wool over his eyes, they're brothers in arms, wink-wink. "You can use a man like me. I'm coming with you."

"You'd have to earn your own living," Heath explains slowly, trying to put Joseph off his decision. "And I travel a lot, you won't be living a life of luxury." It's not because he thinks of Joseph as a burden that he doesn't want him to join him. Heath's just used to traveling alone, enjoys the silent conversations Mother Nature has with him. He can't imagine what it would be like to have someone coming along with him.

"Get over yourself, Heath." Joseph's eyes are rolling. "It's not a marriage proposal, I've just got two hours to kill. Come on, I want to learn how to busk."

Heath sighs. He's not going to get out of it anytime soon, so might as well entertain the guy. "Okay, is there anything you can do that will entertain people?"

"Ahh. You mean, you need a decoy." Joseph nods enthusiastically. "Yes. I can feign epileptic seizures, stage hits from passing cars, set fires, whatever the situation calls for."

"Uh... no. I mean can you do anything entertaining that will please people and persuade them to give you money. Like telling jokes or singing or juggling. Something like that." Heath leads the way back to his hotel room, needing to pick up his instruments before going out.

"I perform parlor games very nicely." Joseph stops and waits at the threshold of Heath's room, peering cautiously inside. Good god, with his money, he lives in a dump like this? His admiration for Heath steps up a notch. Part of the scam. Never show them all you've got for free. Heath is, he decides, a mastermind. "Card tricks, rabbits from hats, nothing up my sleeve." As Heath is latching the door, Joseph pulls a quarter from his ear. "See?"

Heath nods, rather pleased. He wonders what it really would be like having someone else by his side while playing to the people. It could be rather enjoyable. "Okay, that's perfect. The more children we attract, the more likely we'll get money. They should love you."

"Children? What's that supposed to mean?" Joseph's righteous indignation is wasted on Heath, who strides quickly past him without a glance. Grumbling, Joseph follows. "I can tap dance, a little."

"Good, that will help. Is there anything you need to collect before we go, or do you have everything?" They come out of the hotel and Heath stops, waiting to see what Joseph needs to do.

How is Joseph to know what he will need? Heath, it seems, is being deliberately evasive as to the nature of the con. Joseph pats his pockets. Yes, he has his standard tools. "I'm ready. Let's busk."

An exaggerated roll of his eyes and Heath turns and stalks off into the streets to find a good spot. After a little exploration he finds a pretty good one just outside a park where he knows both children and adults will be. It doesn't take him long to get set up, just getting his didgeridoo out of it's case - always a good one to start the crowds off thanks to it's uniqueness - and a few practice blows.

No overt wealth in this crowd. Joseph would have chosen a spot on Rodeo, but, having witnessed the wad of cash in Heath's case, he's not going to second-guess a pro. He slips on his dark glasses and extends his fold-up white cane. "Ready."

"What the fuck?" Heath stares at him as though he's mad then tugs him close and hisses in Joseph's ear. "You can't pretend to be blind, we are not here to con people into giving us their money."

"Right-o." Joseph tips a conspiratorial wink at Heath from behind his glasses. Angles one leg awkwardly. "I'm not blind and I'm not crippled and we're not conning anybody and you're making thousands of dollars just standing on the sidewalk blowing on that oversized flute."

Heath does a double take. "Woah woah woah... thousands of dollars? Where the fuck did you get the idea that I make thousands of dollars from this job?"

"Uh...your impeccable fashion sense?" Joseph spots a well-heeled man approaching. "Shh. Our first mark, Heath."

The man's pace never slows as he passes, ignoring Joseph altogether but casting an irritated glance at Heath. "Get a job, you bum."

Used to receiving this sort of unfavorable reaction, Heath just ignores the man without even a flinch or retort. They're simply not worth the effort. The people who are are those who enjoy being entertained and those who value good music. In Heath's opinion, everyone else can go fuck themselves.

If this is going to be a successful day, Joseph better learn his place. Heath puts a few coins in his open didgeridoo case and places it just in front of them. Then he turns to Joseph, expression serious. "Listen, first of all, if you think this is an easy way of making money then you're an idiot. The most money I've made in a day is about forty dollars. Secondly, we are NOT con-men. I do this because I enjoy making music and affecting people."

Joseph plucks the dark glasses from his face and stares at Heath, galled. Forty dollars a day? Right. That explains the Citadel membership and the bankroll in his case, uh-huh. "Look, Heath, if you don't want to let me in on your game, fine. But there's no need to insult my intelligence." Folds up his cane and is tucking it into his pocket when his cell phone begins singing I feel pretty, oh so pretty... Joseph can't seem to get that ringer setting to stay put on the Star Wars theme where he wants it. "Oh no..." He stares at the caller ID, his color draining, his priorities shifting. "What time is it?"

Peering over his shoulder at the flashing screen, Heath shrugs. "Twenty past Twelve, why? You need to be somewhere?"

"Hello?" Joseph's free hand is in motion. Be quiet, don't blow on anything! "No, no, not noon, we said one o'clock. Yes we did. Yes we did. Yes we... I'm </i>not</i> arguing. No I'm not. No I'm no..." Long pause, listening. "With Heath. No, I'm not 'bothering' him, he needed my help and I... Yes, he needed my help, why is that so hard to believe?" Another pause, Joseph's shoulders slumping ever-lower, lower lip beginning to pooch. "You don't need to... Okay, FINE!" Joseph extends the phone. "Ralph wants to talk to you, Heath."

Utterly bemused and amused by Joseph's conversation, Heath can't quite keep the smile from his face as he's handed the phone. The mirth is clear in his voice. "Morning, Ralph."

"Good morning, Heath. No, wait, that's not quite right, is it? Were it still morning, I would still have a chance at a business relationship with the man who just stormed from my home after waiting twenty minutes for his twelve o'clock appointment to fuck Joseph. Therefore, good afternoon, Heath." Ralph's voice is utterly flat and without inflection. "Niceties aside, I'm not an especially happy man just now, and I would like to know if I'll be exacting my pound of flesh from one ass or two. Did you request Joseph's help in resolving some intricate panhandling emergency when his presence was required elsewhere, or was his help, as I suspect, inflicted upon you?"

"Huh?" Heath blinks several times before he realises what Ralph is talking about. Joseph must have told him about the shop incident. Or at least his take on it. "Uh, okay listen. I was just shopping and I saw Joseph having some trouble with one of the security guards. Seems he had been taking things. I helped him out of it and now he wants to learn how to busk."

"Security guard?" Now, Ralph's tone reveals a hint of irritation. "Explain."

Stealing a quick glance at Joseph, Heath sighs and moves a little further away, hoping Joseph won't overhear that much. "Joseph was trying to steal some stuff from the store. The guard caught him so I intervened and said that I had put the things in Joseph's pockets. Joseph bribed him and he let us go, but then he got the money back, and a bit more."

After a long pregnant pause, Ralph's voice acknowledges, in the same even tone, "I see. Thank you for your honesty, Heath. Put Joseph back on the line, please."

Joseph has the attention span of a housefly, and is beaming with pride at having earned $3.00 in small change for Heath by shuffling a deck of cards in spiraling patterns between his hands. He blanches as Heath presses the phone back toward him, splays his audience with 52 cards and covers the mouthpiece with his hand. "What did you tell him, Heath?"

"I told him to get stuffed," Heath says without emotion, though he smirks slightly, knowing Joseph will take that seriously. It's then he notices the small crowd that had gathered as Joseph had been playing with his cards and after a brief glance into the case, he's very pleasantly surprised to see the few extra coins in there. Perhaps he's not so bad, after all.

"Hello?" Joseph says nothing more for several long moments, just listens, nods, finally clicks the phone shut. "I have to go now, Heath. You're invited to dinner on Sunday. Six o'clock. Ralph told me to tell you to not worry about proper attire, he wants you naked at the threshhold before you knock or you're not to bother knocking at all." Gathers his few cards which haven't been taken as souvenirs by overjoyed children. Mumbles. "Didn't want to fuck that hairy bastard. Hairy shoulders, hairy back, hairy ears...didn't want to fuck him, don't care what business plans Ralph had with him." Continues to grumble, shoving the half-deck back into his pocket, then focuses directly onto Heath. "I didn't want to fuck him, I was having a nice time here, with you."

And for the first time today, Heath's struck dumb by how sorry he feels for Joseph right now. There's something about the pathetic sad look in his eyes that has Heath suddenly wishing that he could save Joseph from his duty. Give him the freedom that he clearly needs. "I'm sorry, Joseph," he says softly, the apology genuine. Heath gives his shoulder a squeeze and smiles. "Perhaps I can have a talk to Ralph and see if we can arrange a few days off so you can come and help me get some money, yeah?"

"No, no, don't do that, Jesus, Heath. Just come for dinner." Joseph shakes his head, backpedals from Heath toward home, toward Ralph. "Just come for dinner on Sunday, be sure you're naked and be sure you're on time. Okay?"

Heath has other ideas, but he nods obediently. He doesn't want to piss Ralph off, but he wants to try and help Joseph have some fun, and the only way of doing that is to talk to Ralph. "I'll see you Sunday."

"Sunday," Joseph acknowledges, his pace slowing. He doesn't want to go home. Ralph's got his panties bunched because Joseph didn't fuck the hairy guy, home is going to be a terribly unpleasant place, just now. He wants to stay here with his friend. Friend? Yes. Heath has come to his aid not once but twice today, Joseph has made his first real friend. He rushes back to Heath, gathers him into an affectionate bear hug. "Thank you, Heath." Slips the pilfered watch from his wrist into Heath's pocket. "Hang onto this for me, would you?"

Frowning, Heath looks down into his pocket and can't help but smile at the watch in there. Looking back up at Joseph his smile turns into a grin and he nods again. "Sure mate, I'll keep it safe. You better be getting back now though, go on." Heath clasps him close one more time then lets Joseph go, watching until he's out of sight before settling down to play. As he's picking up his didgeridoo, he sees a flicker of white out of the corner of his eye. The Two of Clubs lies on the pavement by his foot. It means something. Plucking it up off the ground, Heath slips it into his pocket beside the watch and pats it safe. In some way, Joseph is busking with him.

Ralph and Joseph

Thu, 03 Nov 2005 20:28:15 GMT

"You've taken quite an interest in gardening, as of late."

Joseph yelps, loses his balance and falls from his knees onto his ass when he spins around to see Ralph standing close behind him. Bastard moves like a cat... Wipes his brow, leaving behind a smear of soil. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Difficult to say." Ralph regards the freshly dug and refilled hole between two of his own cherished rose bushes. "You were planting an especially large seed, I take it?"

"Tilling. If the soil is loosened, the root systems will expand more easily. You're constantly gardening, you should know that."

"Mmm." Ralph's pale gaze hardens and fixes. "So, if I were to, upon my return, wave a metal detector over this area, I would receive no positive reading, of course?"

"Of course." A dry croak. That particular gaze just about turns Joseph to dust, always has.

"I'm glad to hear it." Ralph steps past his squatting brother, car keys in hand, ruffling Joseph's hair ungently as he passes. He's dressed to kill, Joseph notes, in his dark serious-business suit. When Ralph goes anywhere in that suit, their offshore accounts tend to experience a significant climb, the following morning. "I'll be late. Don't wait up. And clean those fingernails, Joseph, the working-class-hero look doesn't suit you."

"I'll do that." Petulant, now. You're not the boss of me. "And, since you'll be out so late, perhaps my clean fingernails and I will go spend a few hours at the Club."

Ralph laughs, keeps walking. He's heard the threat too many times to bother acknowledging it anymore. Even if Joseph's membership card were not tucked securely into his own wallet, deterrent number one, the boy wouldn't dare initiate a sexual scene without Ralph's approval and presence. Not with anyone. Not after last time.

Joseph doesn't move a muscle until he hears the Jaguar shift into second. Then he begins the excavation process, grumbling. Got to find a better hiding place. He'd like to get this junk off his hands now, but his favorite fence is increasingly hesitant to meet with him. Mickey One-Thumb is scared green of Ralph. With good reason, Joseph thinks.

Pup/Player Info for Joseph Fiennes

Mon, 24 Oct 2005 20:45:48 GMT

Name: Joseph Fiennes (aliases Alberic, Al, Joe, among others)

Journal: refiennes

AIM: twofiennes

E-mail: twofiennes@gmail.com

When you can be reached and preferred method: gmail anytime, ping when I'm online

Pup's physical info: 35 years old, 6'tall, slender but muscular, brown hair, amber eyes, no marks or scars

Pup's occupation: Petty thief. Continually chastised by his professional thief older brother for thinking small and indulging in such undignified and unprofitable crimes as picking pockets and shoplifting

Pup's location: Inhabits one half of a Los Angeles duplex connected by a playroom to the half inhabited by brother Ralph

Pup's orientation: Bisexual Switch

Pup's kinks: Threesomes, Exhibitionism, Masochism

Pup's squicks: None

Pup's safeword: Timex

Pup's hobbies: Reading True Detective Magazine, sleight-of-hand parlor tricks

Game Membership: Yes

Game connections: Joseph and his brother Ralph play exclusively in tandem. When they’re not trolling as a predatory tag team for willing submissives, male or female, Joseph will happily turn himself over to a competent dom to put on a show for his voyeuristic brother

Mun Squicks: Squicks

Mun Kinks: Kinks

Type of Characters Pup Likes: Submissives interested in a threesome with the Brothers Fiennes, Dominants interested in satisfying Joseph’s masochistic sub-side while Ralph watches

Play Situation: Available

Last Updated: 10/24/05