Colt
I know it's a drag, I know it's a grind
I know that a dollar ain't worth a dime
I know you get tired, I know you get down
I know you get sick of this soul-sucking town
I know that a dollar ain't worth a dime
I know you get tired, I know you get down
I know you get sick of this soul-sucking town
All her movements slow a bit when he admits he got halfway there. She ends up fiddling with a strap that doesn't need it, fingers doing work, even the unnecessary sort, out of habit more than actual guidance as her mind wanders to what could have been. Porch swing sihouettes at twilight, dinner with a current of laughter, abandoned drinks and kicked off shoes, letting every bit of the day fade little by little until all that remained was them.
She blinks, her attention back on task as she leaves the strap alone and finishes gathering everything she needs, fastening the lariat to her left hip. "Honey, if you don't think I can handle a little bit of vinegar," she starts, patting Biscuit's neck as if the mare is her own brand of sour, "then I must have given you the wrong impression." He's not the only one capable of turning bad moods around, and though she'd not be offering punches, she's certain her hands could still be put to good use for his sake. "But that's real considerate of ya," she finishes gently, glancing back over at him a little softer, something other than the usual there to admire about him. Too many people make their mood everyone else's problem, an issue she's well-versed in, so him having the wherewithal not to is refreshing to say the least.
His return fire regarding leather stiffens her up a bit, through the blush that streaks past her cheeks suggests she imagines a number of possibilities before adamantly chasing them away. "Fair is fair," she shrugs, attempting to act unruffled even as his devious smirk continues to ruffle everything. Thankfully the picture of him flipping off a herd of unicorns, intentional or not, thoroughly dashes any lingering distractions with its own brand.
He steps in beside her easily, and it seems to be something more than just the way they've both hunted a thing or two down in this world that does it. "Good call," she nods as they walk and plan, the drift of his fingers across hers just the sort of invitation she needs to loosen up any residual worries. "I can fire first. Keep shooting when they run up, hopefully drop one, maybe two, or at least injure 'em enough before they reach us." Her aim's worse the further off they are, but she's banking on the distance to make some headway, otherwise she'd be doing a lot of dodging and relying on tangling up their feet with a loop, too bad she's a better header than a heeler. Still, she's not concerned.
While she thinks it over, she drifts unintentionally closer to him as they hike, shoulders brushing his from time to time without apology. "This is our second date, by the way. Did I forget to tell you?" She glances at him with a half grin, keeping back a laugh for the sake of stealth, though it hums just behind her lips. "I wanted to mix it up, avoid the cliches."
She blinks, her attention back on task as she leaves the strap alone and finishes gathering everything she needs, fastening the lariat to her left hip. "Honey, if you don't think I can handle a little bit of vinegar," she starts, patting Biscuit's neck as if the mare is her own brand of sour, "then I must have given you the wrong impression." He's not the only one capable of turning bad moods around, and though she'd not be offering punches, she's certain her hands could still be put to good use for his sake. "But that's real considerate of ya," she finishes gently, glancing back over at him a little softer, something other than the usual there to admire about him. Too many people make their mood everyone else's problem, an issue she's well-versed in, so him having the wherewithal not to is refreshing to say the least.
His return fire regarding leather stiffens her up a bit, through the blush that streaks past her cheeks suggests she imagines a number of possibilities before adamantly chasing them away. "Fair is fair," she shrugs, attempting to act unruffled even as his devious smirk continues to ruffle everything. Thankfully the picture of him flipping off a herd of unicorns, intentional or not, thoroughly dashes any lingering distractions with its own brand.
He steps in beside her easily, and it seems to be something more than just the way they've both hunted a thing or two down in this world that does it. "Good call," she nods as they walk and plan, the drift of his fingers across hers just the sort of invitation she needs to loosen up any residual worries. "I can fire first. Keep shooting when they run up, hopefully drop one, maybe two, or at least injure 'em enough before they reach us." Her aim's worse the further off they are, but she's banking on the distance to make some headway, otherwise she'd be doing a lot of dodging and relying on tangling up their feet with a loop, too bad she's a better header than a heeler. Still, she's not concerned.
While she thinks it over, she drifts unintentionally closer to him as they hike, shoulders brushing his from time to time without apology. "This is our second date, by the way. Did I forget to tell you?" She glances at him with a half grin, keeping back a laugh for the sake of stealth, though it hums just behind her lips. "I wanted to mix it up, avoid the cliches."
Let's make a little lemonade if lemons is all we got
Sunset's like a tangerine, let's find a road we've never seen
Don't waste another mile or a minute not kissin' me
Life is short, make it sweet
Sunset's like a tangerine, let's find a road we've never seen
Don't waste another mile or a minute not kissin' me
Life is short, make it sweet
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.
