Part 4, Project 2 – Exercise: Establishing Relationships

“Quick! Let’s run down here! There’s no way they’ll come down this way.”
“Martin, since when have you had a built-in bully detector with GPS?”
“Cute, Billy, but really…get your arse down here.”
“Martin – I hate to say it, but there’s a ruddy great wall down there.”
“Yer, I know, Billie.  It’s cool.  They won’t come round the other side.  We can just hang out.”
“Bet you wouldn’t have flushed Winters if you’d known he had his own gang!”
“Never say never, Billie, my old chum.  He had what was coming to him.”
“Right, well we’re here now.  What dya wanna do about..”

Two lads from Charlie Winter’s gang dropped over the wall, a matter of feet in front of the boys.  One was carrying a knife, the other a length of rope.

“Just ‘hang out’, eh Martin? Dya have something more appropriate to do, now that we have company?”
“I’m working on it, Billie.  Just stick close to me.”
“Oh, have no fear!  I’m not leaving you.  You got me into this mess; you’re getting me out.”
“Yes, alright, Billie.  Let’s keep our eyes firmly on the sharp stuff and start pacing things backwards a bit.”
“I’m crap at walking backwards….remember when…”
“Don’t need to hear that right now, Billie. Eyes forward, feet backwards, just like I’m doing…that’s it.  Nice and steady.”

The two lads weiling weapons and rope stood firm, broad grins on their faces, the occasional glance between them suggesting a plan.

“They’re not actually going anywhere, Martin…what are they doing?”
“Billie, I have no greater powers of telepathy than you have.  Just keep coming backwards, for Christ’s sake.”
“If we get out of this alive, Martin, are you gonna stop picking on him?”
“Who, Winters?  No, of course note.  He’s a fool.  Like I said, he gets what he deserves.”
“But they’ve got a knife, Martin.  A proper, pointy, cut-you-into-little-pieces knife.”
“Keep it together, Billie.  I’m very aware of that fact, hence we’re moving away from them.  They’re trying to intimidate us.  But it’s not working.  Show them it’s not working, Billie.”
“How the hell dya expect me to do that?  I’m close to wetting myself.”
“Show it in your face.  Your eyes.  Stare them down, Billie.  Drive your eyes deep into their souls.  Show. No. Fear”
“But my hayfever’s killing me.  My eyes are running faster than Linford Christie with a nose bleed.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Billie, just get on with it! Man up!”
“I’m about to get my throat slit open and you’re telling me to ‘man up’? Christ, Martin.”
“You’ve been watching too many CSI episodes, Billie.  I warned you about that.”
“Are you frigging mad, Martin?  Can’t you see what’s going on over there?  They want to tie us up then slice-and-dice us.  Probably feed us to some large, dribbling, attitude-driven dog bred for fighting.”
“Let’s not think about what could be and focus more on what will be…on my count, after 3, we’re gonna leg it…”
“Oh, shit….!”
“One – two – three!”

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