Chapter Text
Vernon Schillinger’s violent beating of the black man he'd caught his young sons buying marijuana from had resulted in his being arrested, charged, and later convicted of aggravated assault in the first degree.
Immediately after his initial arrest, his sons, Hank and Andrew Schillinger, sat together on the lumpy, dilapidated couch in the middle of what would probably be considered the Schillinger household's living room.
For the most part, they sat there in relative silence, both brothers trying to avoid talking about what they'd just seen by pretending to be extremely invested in the game on TV. In all reality, neither of them actually knew jack shit about football, other than that their dad and grandpa really got into it for some reason, but, hey, it was better than trying to discuss their feelings or whatever - Which, according to their dad, was something only little girls and faggots did.
In the background, they could hear one of their neighbours ranting drunkenly about how 'niggers would be the downfall of civilised society' or somesuch, which was pretty par for the course in their neighbourhood. It wasn't usually something worth commenting on, but Andrew, wanting to break the awkward silence between them, commented on it anyway.
"You know, I heard blacks don't like being called that."
"What? Nigger?"
"Yeah. I heard it's...offensive to them, or something."
Hank shrugged. He didn't really care one way or another, but he figured he may as well humour his brother.
"Well, you know, Dad always just says that that's what they are, that they deserve it or whatever."
"But Hank, you're the one who's always going around saying that Dad's full of shit."
"S'cause he is. I mean, I don't really give a shit either way, but I don't want you to get your ass beat." Hank paused for a moment. "Any more than usual, anyway."