Keep my heart on a short leash

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

She probably should have written before coming here, but she figures it's much harder to deny her in person than through post. She knows he'll be in House of Midnight eventually, so she'll wait for him there after she finishes her time here with Frey. There'd be little point to it this time of year, snow surely already filling up the slopes of the meadows, but she'd swing by her old property too and finally face the aftermath. That's what today is all about—staring the shit she burned right in its eyes and fully accepting it.

Crouching down near the shrine, her duster coat spills out around her boots, a puddle of leather. Her head bows, hat and a high neck collar keeping her hair from shifting, and she pats down her sides to find the bulge of her offerings. She withdraws the candlesticks first, placing them in a snow like some frosty birthday cake to the god. "Figured this time of year, some wax play would serve you well, Sex Frey." She pulls out some matches and lights just one of them. "These are edible. Made from tallow." Well, more enjoyable to eat than bees wax anyway.

Stuffing the matches back in her pocket, Colt withdraws the other lump from a bag slung behind her with her bow and quiver. "Nature Frey, some seasonal harvest," she murmurs, setting down the half loaf of sourdough. Some of the center has already been cored out, and there she pours the broccoli cheddar soup from a hollowed out horn with a stopper attached. "Hope the warmth still finds you as much as the flavor." She had tried to hurry here after buying it, soup not exactly a great on the road snack, but one of her favorite things for this time of year.

---

Complete threads at each of Frey's existing shrines, leaving appropriate offerings for both aspects of the deity.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

He’s not anticipating Colt’s arrival – though he had heard through the grapevine that she’d taken a breather at the House of Midnight with Hawthorn. It wasn’t as though Sunjata cared too much, though he does wonder whether or not she thinks she’s been banned from King’s End with the means of being so sneaky.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is to stop by the shrine and find her there, dropping off her offerings to both aspects. He hesitates before he makes himself known, waiting until she’s placed the last offering on the shrine before he clears his throat and steps over, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up. “Hey, wasn’t sure I’d see you so soon.” It’s an easy opening, something that doesn’t judge one way or another his thoughts on her being in King’s End. And maybe that makes it easier.

In the interim, he approaches the shrine, popping a cigarette out and between his lips that he lights with a match, dropping to crouch beside the shrine and place his own offering. It’s a little vial of snapdragon that he sets beside her offerings, as a little thank you for the items they had given them to let loose. It seems to have helped, because as he glances over at Colt with the smoke trailing from the lit end of the cigarette, he seems somehow more himself than he’s quite possibly ever been.

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

The soft, almost pleasant crunch of snow underfoot alerts her to another's approach before the voice lands. Unfortunately, even so, none of it could have prepared her for it being Sunjata who's here. Of all people, the wild thought begs of the universe, something like a middle finger lifted up between the words. Surprise darts across her face faster than she can catch it as she turns to see him, his greeting a nice attempt to soothe what immediately spikes. "Sunjata," she exclaims, the name carrying the remnants of shock she's yanked back from her expression.

"I didn't expect to see you soon, either." Not here, not now, at least. She had hoped to get some liquor in her hands first, maybe rehearse some things a time or two, certainly not be caught with her pants down like this. "Well, I mean, I came here to see you," despite the obvious preparations for prayer. "Just, well," her hand tips the words away into nothing as she finishes with a flourish of her wrist and an exhale that attempts to regather her breath into something more useful than whatever all of that just was. "Hi."

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

He doesn’t mean to surprise her, but as his name falls from her lips, he can hear the surprise lacing through her tone, the way she seems to grow stiff and rigid. But it’s her time to surprise him, he supposes, because the mention that she’d come here to specifically see him has his brows raising and a small smirk tugging on his face clouded with the wramth of his breath and the smoke form the cigarette.

He doesn’t interrupt her as she speaks, waiting until she’s seemingly spun herself out before the hi finally leaves her and he tilts his head toward her. “Hi.” He says simply. He looks better than he has in the past, more sleep, more relaxed. “You wanted to see me?” He asks, shifting a little before he draws the cigarette from his lips and fully takes her in. “I uh.. I’ve got something if you wanna take the edge off. Provided you’re not gonna take the opportunity to yell at me again.” He bounces his brows – the joke falling a little flat as it leaves his tongue.

But she’d said last time that he didn’t deserve it, and without the wounds being so fresh it felt okay to joke about it with her as if to say he’s decided since then that he doesn’t really care what she said about him. He’s got other things to focus on.

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

Flustered isn't a usual state for her. Flushed, certainly, but butterflies are rare, and anxiety doesn't really sink in beside the occasional roar in her ears right before she takes a decisive action. Yet there's no denying that's exactly what she is right now, flustered.

There's an awkwardness between them that stiffens her. All the easy charm and sunshine warmed fluidity of their past has retreated, at least, for her. He seems perfectly fine, she notices before long, and there's a cruel stab of uncertainty at that recognition. A familiar caution that buzzes in her head, warning her that she's misread this situation. A habit of picking something apart so cleanly in her own mind, certain she's gotten to the raw bone of it, only for reality to offer her something still matted with tendon and meat.

"Yeah, you," she confirms around a sigh that she doesn't give much volume to. A weak stretch finds her lips and a small smile flashes out for him. "You look uh... well." Her brows lift, genuinely impressed, because last she'd left him he'd been anything but. All the more reason this variant from her expectations rattles her. Has she put too much weight on their friendship, and their argument, their distance, their complete lack of anything for so long has done nothing to wear on him the way it's frayed her thoughts at night when she finally rests? Worse, is he better because she left?

His offer lands like a glass of water, immediately revealing her thirst. "That obvious?" she wonders with a subtle grimace, inwardly scolding herself to get it the fuck together. "Well, you know me, I can always do with less edges." In other words, when has she ever turned down a drink? She's positive that's what he means, her personal tequila butler out in the cold, and just the offer already warms her by a shade back into something familiar. Maybe, it's none of the things she already thought. Maybe, this is just less damaged in the end, strained but not fractured.

A laugh, too hollow with nerves even as it tries for easygoing, shakes free as her hand does the same with her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, no, no plans to yell today. It's actually part of why I'm here. Well, that and word is you might need some help with unicorn wrangling?"

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

Her small smile and the soft little you look uh… well that leaves her only has Sunjata’s smile blooming a bit brighter, more lopsided, an inclination of his head that seems to say he feels better too. “Thanks.” It isn’t because of what she said that he feels better, or the fact that she’s gone that’s improved him, but the sheer fact that he realized he no longer cares. The words she’d used to wound him during their argument wouldn’t find a foothold anymore. The holes long since closed off, boarded up with sea ravaged, sun bleached wood. Capable of scratching, sure, but no longer breaking through.

Snorting to her question, he shrugs. “Not really. Just figured if it helped me, it’ll help you.” He offers, reaching into his pocket where he’d withdrawn the pack of cigarettes from to retrieve a flask and a little bag of something else. “Unfortunately, I don’t have tequila, but I do have whiskey. And snapdragon if you’re feeling really like you wanna relax.” He doesn’t hand them over yet, hearing the hollow laugh leave her as she confirms that she’s got no plans to yell today.

It’s when she mentions that he might need help with unicorn wrangling that Sunjata’s smile blooms a bit brighter. “I do, actually. We’re gonna need to drive a herd over to where we’re putting the river.” He pauses, reaching over to hand her the flask of whiskey and the bag of snapdragon for her to take her pick. “You got enough time to help out? How’s the desert coming?” A little prying, sure, but he can’t help but to ask.

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

He's almost downright chipper. It's such a staggering contrast to the tightrope she feels like she's balancing on beside him, hell just being here in this region at all, that it almost makes her wonder if she's still asleep on the skyship and imagining this like some nervous preparation for what will come. "Oh?" she says with a touch of surprise she can't keep in. "You found the secret ingredient to happiness, and your sharing it, with me?"

Because isn't that the difference here? He seems...happy. Maybe that's just what some good sleep does for you after so long without, a euphoria all its own. She's immediately skeptical, not that she suspects him of anything nefarious, but wondering if he didn't go and get himself scammed by some miracle elixir peddled to him by an excellent salesman.

That doubt swiftly crumbles into a puff of laughter. "I can safely say that whiskey is not the path to happiness." She wrinkles her nose as he produces quite possibly one of the most offensive liquors. The snapdragon might have more right to claim the title of mood improver, but both of them seem like vices he long ago would have tried. Maybe he's more straight and narrow than she ever noticed. Would certainly make sense he'd have tighter scruples elsewhere in his life, given how readily he erases limits in bed sheets.

The quick spread of his smile is a comforting thing. She swallows at the sight of it, trying to smooth out the jitters that risk revealing themselves the moment they tip back towards something serious. "Ah, I was wondering," she hums in thoughtful acknowledgement of his unicorn situation and cause. "Thought maybe they'd found a way to pester you without me." For a moment, it seems she means it as nothing more than idle chat, little more than curiosity. That he extends the invitation for her is an immediate relief, erasing all sense of imposing where she isn't needed, or worse, wanted. "Yeah," she answers with a tilt of her head, smile creeping into one cheek. "Yeah, I could swing that. Think it's the least I could do."

She takes the whiskey and snapdragon in hand, too distracted at the moment with thoughts of schedules and logistics and the rich, ache to enjoy the ranch-type work she knows and misses so thoroughly. She doesn't do anything with them, just holds them, almost not even seeming to be aware she's got them. Talk of the desert pulls her back firmly to the present, and all its worries, the desert just one such.

Suspicion returns swiftly, the unfortunate fact of being burned again so recently. "You don't actually want to know," she huffs, certain he's only being nice, or worse, digging for something to throw back in her face. Although he's acting so damn nice it doesn't seem likely, if not for the fact she expected something other than this. She's inclined to peek under the rug of all his pleasantries and find the dust bunnies, haul them out by their tangled little feet and shout aha, quite intentionally ruining a fine thing if only to keep the inevitable ruin from surprising her later.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

“Not the whole ingredient.” He says, playful and warm despite everything between them, because he’s come to realize that she can’t say anything to him that would get under his skin. Which makes for easy banter and a devil-may-care attitude. “Frey’s helping me out, so unfortunately I can’t share that wisdom, I might be able to one day.” There’s a lopsided smile aimed toward her, his head inclining slightly with the implication. He’s on a quest, connected and content with his god, the perfect picture of a devoted demigod that’s unshakable.

Half of that is probably because of the lack of a heart, but you know – it’s the little things, silver linings where you can get them. Even as she playfully insults his drink of choice and his hand comes to his chest in pure dramatics, an overdone gasp. “How dare you.” He whines, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Whiskey is my go-to.” Smoked whiskey, specifically. A nice blend from the Grounds he’d fallen in love with the second he’d arrived here. It’s what he mostly sold when he ran the VlamVloed, way back when.

But he hands them over regardless of what her choices might be, wondering if it would be easier to swallow when it comes to this reconnection. His happiness, the golden sun that had leaked from him grows softer as he shrugs a shoulder. “Eh, they’ve tried. Nobody does it as well as you, though.” His steel gaze focuses on her face with quiet interest, wondering how the compliment will land. After all, Sunjata isn’t stupid, and if he can go to the source of someone that had a history and an expertise in it, why would he beat his head up against the wall trying to find someone that could be up to the task when he could just ask the source directly?

His smile breaks a bit wider as she agrees, though, nodding and letting the comment of it being the least she can do go unsaid – because his gut reaction is to say yeah, it is the least you could do, because he’s trying not to dive down those rabbit holes these days. “I’ll let you know when we plan it, then.” The cigarette had been forgotten for a few long moments, leaving him to puff on it a few times to get the cherry back up and glowing before he drags from it, noting the fact that she doesn’t seem inclined to share.

“Ehh, I built this one up from nothing. If anything, I think I’m the only one that gets it.” Raising a scarred brow at her for the jest, he does look away from her back to the shrine as he exhales the smoke in a brief puff around him. “But you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” A boon, in case she thinks he’s in it for nefarious means.

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

"Frey's helping you out?" She takes that the filthy way at once and smirks deeply at him. "Well that makes sense. Here I was about to ask you who the fuck you are and what you've done with the loveable mope I know as Sunjata." An easier laugh slips free, breaking past the tension like wind through a fractured window. "Good for you." She can't imagine the amount of terrible lays he must suffer through, much like Thorn. Surely he puts on a brave enough face and enjoys it well enough to make it his whole career, but no one likes every part of their job. Certainly lines up with him being able to share Frey's wisdom someday. Maybe it'll come with diagrams.

Still, it's a peculiar thing to stand here ready to flay herself open for him just to have him, playfully gasping. It's the sort of back and forth they'd once shared, when trust hadn't gone up in smoke and life had been a simpler thing contained here. Despite herself, a smile stretches out and lingers, gaze softening to the continual warmth of him. Shit, maybe she's been praying to Frey all wrong and should be asking to be dicked down instead of sharpening her arrows.

Another abrupt, full laugh answers his tease, no sweeter song of praise to her than to hear she's a longstanding annoyance to someone she's fond of. "Glad I've still got a claim to something," she hums, the humor fading out like a struck note beneath her voice. She's still half-tempted to ask him a secret only Sunjata should know, because this feels too, nice. She hardly thinks she deserves this version of him, so either this version is wrong somehow, or she is.

She glances down at the chemicals in her hand, the appeal to join whatever cloud he's found a strong motivator. Definitely a nicer notion than continuing to feel the slimy bit of unease still roiling in her gut. "Good. I'll keep watch for the alert," she murmurs, withdrawing a touch more as if the ease and the joy might be scalding if she reaches for them too readily. It builds as he continues, not just shrugging away her tight-lipped accusation, but offering the reality of his position in such a sincere fashion she can only blink back at him like a doe in floodlights.

Fuck it she decides swiftly, spinning off the flask top and tipping back the whiskey with a grimace that only deepens the moment the foul liquid hits the back of her throat, scraping a lingering heat there. She can feel the slide of it down her throat like a bolus she should have broken up, the revolting burn hitting her gut and spreading out instantly. "Uuugh, gods," her lips pull up around the words in a quiet snarl of displeasure and she hands the flask back over to him as if it's offensive. This, after popping the snapdragon pearl into her mouth, set beneath her tongue like a jawbreaker that might be able to chase this whiskey heat out. "I was going to ask why you're being so nice, but after drinking that I think I've change my mind." A visible shudder rolls through her, and she shakes her hand out at her side to dispell the energy. "About you being nice, I mean."

The liquid courage is what she needs to even out, she thinks, because she's feeling a touch mad as she swings between lazy laughter with him and suspicion so deeply set she's positive he's not even himself. Whatever's going on with him, she still means to say her peace, and this should help her work up to it. Until then, the desert might act as something to chew on until she feels less like she's balancing over hell. "It's going well, I think. The desert." She smooths a hand through her hair, the wig fluffing over her shoulder as she pulls it to one side. "Built a skyport. Got our base of operations established; just tents for now, until we have what we need to ask Rae for help making the land a little less...hostile."

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

Her answer about whether or not he was some kind of dupe – a doppleganger with the opposite mindset, like he’d become a version of Rae himself with the storm cloud version far away, leaving the sunny version here with her, sparks a warm laugh from him. “What can I say? Turns out getting fucked up now and then really helps.” And the understanding that nothing could really get to him now.

Nodding, though, as she starts to relax and he starts to relax in turn – dragging from the cigarette with ease as they make their plans and she gets the little ego boost from the Heartless that something tells him she probably needs with how exhausting and terrible making a new region was. It’s as she peers down at the flask in her hand and the bag of snapdragon that Sunjata waits for her decision – one that comes shortly after as she doubles down on both.

A soft laugh leaves him to hear her complaint, the snarl of whiskey having him beaming a smirk toward her. “Atta girl.” He drawls, all accent and playfulness and ease wreathed in the perfume of smoke that clouds him. The amusement only blooms when she says she’s changed her mind about him being nice, barking a laugh as he shakes his head. “Never let them know your next move, huh?” He didn’t think it was that bad personally, but he supposes if you go from tequila to whiskey it could be a vast difference.

He preferred the whiskey for the burn anyway, seeing as he could hardly feel it these days. Not without help from his god. So he watches her curiously instead, trying to figure out the way she’ll react once everything starts mixing together. He doesn’t expect her to actually tell him about the desert, but evidently it’s started to work with the way she starts to explain. “Oh nice. Beat me to the punch with the skyport. I added that after the town.” He admits, snorting and putting out the cigarette before he straightens back up. “What’re you gonna ask them for?” to make it less hostile, that is.

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

He doesn't need to explain the benefits of losing oneself for a time to her. If she's ever down, one of the three fucks is always sure to cheer her up for a time: getting fucked, getting fucked up, or fucking someone up. If one isn't working, the others make a point to not let her down. The longevity of its effects might be questionable, but she has found it's better not to try to dismantle the few things that still work just so she can see them properly. So no, she doesn't judge his methods, especially not when they're clearly working.

All the more reason then to partake herself and be rid of the shaky, icky feeling of uncertainty that's thick enough to chew on with every word she forms. His encouragement only feeds the decision, and it's maybe the one compliment she'd never shy from, if only because it lands like applause for her favorite show beginning to start—happiness. It leaves her smiling back at him despite the wince in her brow and the heat in her teeth, the curl of her lip racing up to something brighter in the anticipation of it all.

After the initial swallow, the scathing feel of the whiskey settles into a familiar warmth pooling in her gut, reaching out into the rest of her with the slow crawl of reassurance for cover against all the cruelties of the world, like the cold. Rolling the pearl under her tongue, it melts gradually as she talks, a different sort of embrace to the liquor. Both trickle in with a steady promise, amplifying each other. Even so soon, it makes her laughter come rich and easy suddenly, as if all the unease she felt has been swallowed up by the new tide of euphoria she's just guzzled.

The sound of it splits her apart at the notion of beating him to the punch, the idea more hilarious than it deserves, tipping past the usual smug smile at approaching challenges differently. "Can't set up trade routes without a skyport!" she fires back, biting down on her grin and working to even out the stuttering breath of residual humor. "Which is very important," she says suddenly very sage and serious, drawn up tall and tight, before cracking near instantly the moment after with a too-wide smile. "Although I guess there's no point in making money if everyone's living in tents and choking on toxic pollens, is there!!" Skipping breakfast, it seems, has also helped the chemically created joy descend into her.

She sighs loftily before glancing down at the pale snow, the bright glittering quality of it shifting beneath the light when her head slightly turns, drawing her focus completely for the time being. It's beautiful in a way she's never appreciated before, and my, doesn't it almost look like sand in its own way? She stoops, reaching a hand out to drag her fingers through the crisp, winking surface of frost. "I should ask them for this!" she declares, almost awed. "Instead of just making it less hot and less poisonous in the jungle. D'ya think they'd give me desert snow?"

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

He can see the second that the inebriation starts to hit, the weightlessness of her limbs after weeks of hard, grueling work. The way that her smile gets easier, less masked, less like she’s still on edge about how this conversation will go and more interested in letting it go for the moment because it was easier to not have to feel it than focus too hard on it that a spiral might happen.

Though, when she does speak and fires back he chuckles a little with the answer, as if he’s fairly certain that a spiral maaaaay be incoming. And it’s like a slow moving car crash that Sunjata watches happen in real time. He’d granted her the pieces of it, not expecting it to start to shift toward destruction and self-worry. He’s the dog that bolted out in front of the line of cars, unscathed, watching as each one rear ends the next as if none of it had been his fault.

“Well, you’ve gotta start somewhere. Though I didn’t have toxic plants.” He winces a little and steps closer to her, shrugging but offering her a soft smile. “I started with hauntings and hella graves and bones.” His nose wrinkles slightly with the memory before he shakes his head and watches as she plucks some snow from the ground – soft and glistening in her touch, melting against the warmth of her hand. “Rae might, though I don’t know what they can and can’t do.” He offers with a soft laugh, lips quirking slightly. “Could do something like Halo did to keep it warmer, only in your case cooler and not toxic?”

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA

Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be

"Bones," she agrees, drawing the word out with a sudden attention to its sound. "BoooooNessssssuh." Her tongue, tingling with the residual bits of the snapdragon pearl, feels much fuller than she remembers it being, like it's taking up too much space in her mouth or ...has it always been like that and she's just never noticed? Come to think of it, she can't remember the last time she noticed her tongue. Maybe when she accidentally bit it chewing steak months and months ago. She rolls it between her teeth, the sensation strangely floppy and yet somehow still rigid.

"We have lots of bones too," she hums, the line of the thought trickling back in slowly as her tongue loses its appeal, taken over by the numbing quality of the glittering 'sand' in hand. She narrows her gaze at it, tipping her palm slowly and watching it start to slide away little by little. He's drawn near, and with it, the smell of his cigarette clings, familiar in all the wrong ways.

Abruptly, Colt stiffens. Whatever he said passes right through her. Her nostrils flare as she breathes in. It's not just the cigarette, it's the undercurrent of his magic giving her what she wants most. There's leather, rich and comforting, and against it the fine dust that always gets kicked up in the haze of the summer heat when countless hooves keep drumming over it. There's the faint tang of sweat, well-earned and exhausting in the best way, and beside it hints of alfalfa. It's Cleveland sage on her front porch, welcoming her home, then lavender drifting in when she makes it to her room before bed. It's home that she smells, and around it, the damn smoke.

Every part of her loses color at once. Her hand reaches out to his leg, grip like a vice against his pant as she braces. The smoke suddenly feels hot in her lungs and it's difficult to talk through it. "It's on fire again," she barely manages to whisper, though he should manage to hear it without issue. Despairingly, she realizes they are not in a field of snow, nor the glisten of some god-touched desert. They're standing in ash, still white from the hot and complete burn. Shaking, she gets back to her feet from her crouch, using him like a handrail all the while, eyes as wide as the horrified pop of her mouth.

Colt

I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me

// i'll sing it one last time for you, then we really have to go, you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done. and i can barely look at you, but every single time i do //

Oh the drugs and liquor are hitting much harder than the Heartless had anticipated, and for that he finds himself stuck in a what the fuck do I do kind of hesitation. It was easier with everyone else he’d been around that had a bad trip or got sad when they were drunk – because he knew them better than he knew Colt. And given their last big conversation about the ranch, Sunjata’s not sure where to step where it won’t feel like he’s stuck in a mine field, where anything he says could be construed poorly.

So when she says they have lots of bones too, Sunjata nods a little unhelpfully. “You’ve got a whole place called the Boneyard.” He remembers it. It’s where he’d lost Haai. It’s also a spot in Hak Etme he won’t ever return to, not sure if he can find it in himself to go to the place he’d shredded his soul accidentally and lost such a vital companion.

But the next subject is ignored by Colt as he steps closer, trying to alleviate anything that might start to go awry. She clings to him, looking as though she’s seen a ghost with how pale and heartbroken she’s gotten so suddenly – and when the barely there whisper reaches him with the hEARs does Sunjata glance around subconsciously as she rises back to her feet. “It’s not..” He pauses, realizing that she might be having a trip of the ranch burning down.

Which is bad. It’s not good at all. And partially spurred, maybe, by the cigarette. He stamps it out though it doesn’t do much to keep the smoke from clinging to him, not as he wraps an arm around her for additional support, jaw working slightly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s snowing, nothing’s happening, you’re safe.”

i know we'll make it anywhere away from here

SUNJATA