A stormy night
"What size what that again?"
The young men looked at each other, unable to feign confidence now that Latrois "Diggs" Futillo put them on the spot. There was one thing he did enjoy working at the gas station: bustin' the chops of young bucks who loved thinking they had "big" energy. In a way he knew he was compensating. It didn't have quite the same feel as when he went about in his kutte. But honest work was honest work. MC rep didn't pay the rent.
Well...not always.
"The green one, brah." One of them said, the one with with that stupid backwards and upside down, nasty-avocado-color visor.
"Can't see it," Diggs lied, "Brah." He set a veiny tattooed forearm on the counter as he leaned forward. His neck stretched out past the fastened top button of his shirt, highlighting the rest of his inked skin that ran straight up to his chin. It was as though the rest of his tattoos fought to crawl out. There was more art than the scarred dark skin he was born with.
With a finger pointing up (ironically, of which an arrow was tattooed on the underside), Diggs said, "Point it out."
An older woman and her daughter were in line now. Marigold and Becca. They were regulars who liked to pick up the occasional forties. An odd choice, but who was Diggs to judge? Once they got over his appearance the first time they came in, they made it a habit to share conversation when things weren't too busy.
Becca liked complimenting his Tagalog, but Diggs knew the quarter of him that knew it wouldn't help him speak it much better. He figured that she liked the bad boy rep. She was a cutie, so he wouldn't complain
"Maaan, stop playin', brah." now the other one mouthed off, the one with the blonde buzz-cut and huge fake diamond earring. He glanced behind him towards the snickering ladies, sucking his teeth and flopped a hand. "That one."
"This one?" Diggs snuck a wink to the regulars and reached up with a lanky arm. He pulled down a yellow box, and spun it in his hands. "Grecoman's ribbed and refreshin'?"
"Brah! The one to the leeeft, brah!" Mari and Becca didn't bother hiding their giggles as Diggs feigned surprise, replacing the yellow pack for a red one. He held this one close to his face.
"Ant-man. Even closer. "Compact in e'ryway."
The woman were full on laughing, the young men full on angry, and Diggs full on surprised as sounds of chaos erupt outside.
"What the-?" Diggs grabbed his kutte - a heavily patched black leather vest - from off the back of his chair and donned it with the grace of a king and their cloak. He was already coming from around the counter as he says in Tagalog, "Drinks on me, ladies. Go ahead and get home. Be safe."
The two women rushed out, Becca passing a worried look to Diggs before the passed out the door. Diggs grabbed a baseball bat from under the counter. Wouldn't be more effective than the heat he was packing, but no use escalating yet. Besides, never said he could have a gun on the job.
Though they never said he couldn't.
With an after thought, the Iron Lion chucked the Antman special at buzzcut.
"Better be money on that counter when I get back." Diggs pointed the bat to visor's chest before heading outside.
Rolled a streetwise (16) on the bikers to see what Diggs knew of them and possibly what's going on.