COLT
She catches him from the corner of her eye as he walks over. She leans around a patron in her way to better see him, because her mouth is gradually dropping open, a delighted shine settling into her chocolate eyes. "Gods look at you! You clean up well, and I'm positive you have a much better wardrobe than I do." Although not quite passing as a ranch hand, she adores the sparkle that flows with each of his movements, the shimmer only accentuated by the loose fabric's eagerness to billow around him and set off the shine of each metallic fold. Even his fingers glint.
She laughs easily at the cutting remark Thorn provides the bartender, who shrugs it off easily and slides her shot towards her with a familiarity of their teasing. She winks at him in response and pivots fully to thorn. She licks her hand between her thumb and forefinger, reaching for the salt on the table to dust over the wet skin. "Alright buckaroo, I hope you're ready for tonight. Cheers to trying to new things," she knocks her glass to the drink he carted over before sucking the salt from her hand and slinging the shot back with a tilt of her head. The glass thumps against the bar counter and she gasps open-mouthed, the heat of the liquor like a smug dragon winding down to her stomach.
"Here," she says sliding the folded chaps towards him. "These are for you. You probably already have a set for work, but these are strictly for style." She means it too, because they're not as thick as the ones she uses for ranching. They're still genuine treated cowhide, dark and full of frills, but they've got maroon patterning like roses against the hips.
She laughs easily at the cutting remark Thorn provides the bartender, who shrugs it off easily and slides her shot towards her with a familiarity of their teasing. She winks at him in response and pivots fully to thorn. She licks her hand between her thumb and forefinger, reaching for the salt on the table to dust over the wet skin. "Alright buckaroo, I hope you're ready for tonight. Cheers to trying to new things," she knocks her glass to the drink he carted over before sucking the salt from her hand and slinging the shot back with a tilt of her head. The glass thumps against the bar counter and she gasps open-mouthed, the heat of the liquor like a smug dragon winding down to her stomach.
"Here," she says sliding the folded chaps towards him. "These are for you. You probably already have a set for work, but these are strictly for style." She means it too, because they're not as thick as the ones she uses for ranching. They're still genuine treated cowhide, dark and full of frills, but they've got maroon patterning like roses against the hips.
I had some help
It ain't like I can make this kinda mess all by myself
Don't act like you ain't help me pull that bottle off the shelf
It ain't like I can make this kinda mess all by myself
Don't act like you ain't help me pull that bottle off the shelf
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
