COLT
She’s breathless—partly from the constant uptime of the last song, and partly from the nonstop cheering and laughter that’s carried her along beside Thorn. He’s picking it up quickly, and she’s impressed, beaming at him each time their eyes meet, though it’s rare at first with their heads down in concentration. He gets into it as they progress though, adding his own flare, and she grins, realizing she hasn't enjoyed such a freeing night out in a while.
As the song ends, she turns to Thorn with outstretched arms. "Damn cowboy, why were you keeping this boot boogie in for so long?" she teases, leaning into him briefly in camaraderie. As the next song picks up though, Colt realizes it's one she hasn't heard in a long time—15 years at least. Instead of diving headlong into revelry like before, Colt stutters, as if caught between pausing and pushing through. It's just a breath or two though and then she forces herself back 'on', all smiles and good times. She sweeps her hair up dramatically into her arms so its off the back of her neck, "I'm gonna get some air for a minute!" she tells him, shouting over the din of the song and the bar-chatter. He can keep dancing or join her, but either way, she turns and is gone before she knows his answer.
Desperate to escape the throng, she pauses only long enough to grab a double of the earlier Blanco before barreling through the doors and onto the porch. As soon as the noise shuts off behind her with the door closing, she stills. The quiet and the cold of the night welcomes her outside. Nearby a man's cigarette glows cherry red and smoke curls up. She exhales a shaky breath and takes a seat on the other side of the door from him. Her drink balances on her knees and she traces the rim of her shot glass like she might divine some comfort from it as she stares into the darkness and the stars, watching some memory dance there on the horizon.
Cowboy Casanova Line Dance
As the song ends, she turns to Thorn with outstretched arms. "Damn cowboy, why were you keeping this boot boogie in for so long?" she teases, leaning into him briefly in camaraderie. As the next song picks up though, Colt realizes it's one she hasn't heard in a long time—15 years at least. Instead of diving headlong into revelry like before, Colt stutters, as if caught between pausing and pushing through. It's just a breath or two though and then she forces herself back 'on', all smiles and good times. She sweeps her hair up dramatically into her arms so its off the back of her neck, "I'm gonna get some air for a minute!" she tells him, shouting over the din of the song and the bar-chatter. He can keep dancing or join her, but either way, she turns and is gone before she knows his answer.
Desperate to escape the throng, she pauses only long enough to grab a double of the earlier Blanco before barreling through the doors and onto the porch. As soon as the noise shuts off behind her with the door closing, she stills. The quiet and the cold of the night welcomes her outside. Nearby a man's cigarette glows cherry red and smoke curls up. She exhales a shaky breath and takes a seat on the other side of the door from him. Her drink balances on her knees and she traces the rim of her shot glass like she might divine some comfort from it as she stares into the darkness and the stars, watching some memory dance there on the horizon.
Cowboy Casanova Line Dance
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.
