COLT
He's got blue eyes, crooked smile
Knows that he drives me wild
Sarcastic and witty, drives like he owns the city
Assertive in the best way, no sleep we stay up playin'
Knows that he drives me wild
Sarcastic and witty, drives like he owns the city
Assertive in the best way, no sleep we stay up playin'
She doesn't mean to laugh, but she's already halfway to one between every breath, what with the inevitable defeat across the table and the alcohol warmed haze, so when Vesper regards the shot like it might sprout eyes and blink at him, she can't hold it in. She tilts her hand over her mouth as the sound leaves her, a poor attempt at cover. The depth only worsens when he's smiling through it the way a cat does, forcing the stick to take some of her weight as she leans on it, her hand abandoning the pretense of hiding what’s already obvious. She grabs at his shoulder instead, light but careless about her touch, more a matter of being drawn in each time like she's forgotten the pull from the last one. "Guess we're even for the wine," her voice hums in around the smirk. Not that she'd meant to settle that score, just hadn't wanted to bother the busy bartender with a custom order of shots all around. She'll keep it in mind for next time, to at least require something different for him.
Shaking her head as her hand falls away and she claims a very different sort of shot, her mouth is too wide with the pride of it all to properly seal shut as she rises. Laughter breaks out rich and daring again as Vesper's quip slides in behind hers, and between the pair of them they've torn holes in the egos of the cocky ranch hands, or Jesse at least. Wyatt likely already knew the outcome, which is why he's been tilting his head and muttering to Jesse, who's flushed hot, the raw burn of a man who’s never learned how to lose.
It's a distracting enough color on him that Colt's gaze narrows a bit, watching the ranch hand as her thumbs hook into her pockets while Vesper leans in to kill the yellow ball. She turns her attention at the sound of the strike, finding the bright shine of his gaze easily over the gap of the table. The quiet but meaningful exchange of his thoughts in that look is something that pulls one corner of her lips back up. "Remind me to always play with you on my team," she murmurs as she takes the cue back from him, cutting a glance to Wyatt, who's fingers are now resting firm on Jesse's taut shoulder. A 'brow lifts, not in surprise, but in quiet expectancy, before she settles back over the table.
She takes her time with this shot, letting the boys breathe, and because she's only got one ball on the table she can hit. She tries a few angles, but gives up on them and swings around to a less expected approach, counting on bouncing it off a corner or two to finally get it in the hole. It's trickier, but it's also less likely to knock one of the stripes in if she can pull it off. "Wish us luck," she calls back to Vesper, tossing him a glance over her shoulder before setting the cue into motion. She sweeps off the table with a nod as it rolls, almost thinking about not tipping it, but then it vanishes and the point stays with them. Keeping any smart comment locked in her mouth this time, she extends the stick to Vesper, reluctant to give it up even when he takes it, if only to hold him for a beat. "8 ball's all yours sugar. Let's finish this before he does something stupid."
Shaking her head as her hand falls away and she claims a very different sort of shot, her mouth is too wide with the pride of it all to properly seal shut as she rises. Laughter breaks out rich and daring again as Vesper's quip slides in behind hers, and between the pair of them they've torn holes in the egos of the cocky ranch hands, or Jesse at least. Wyatt likely already knew the outcome, which is why he's been tilting his head and muttering to Jesse, who's flushed hot, the raw burn of a man who’s never learned how to lose.
It's a distracting enough color on him that Colt's gaze narrows a bit, watching the ranch hand as her thumbs hook into her pockets while Vesper leans in to kill the yellow ball. She turns her attention at the sound of the strike, finding the bright shine of his gaze easily over the gap of the table. The quiet but meaningful exchange of his thoughts in that look is something that pulls one corner of her lips back up. "Remind me to always play with you on my team," she murmurs as she takes the cue back from him, cutting a glance to Wyatt, who's fingers are now resting firm on Jesse's taut shoulder. A 'brow lifts, not in surprise, but in quiet expectancy, before she settles back over the table.
She takes her time with this shot, letting the boys breathe, and because she's only got one ball on the table she can hit. She tries a few angles, but gives up on them and swings around to a less expected approach, counting on bouncing it off a corner or two to finally get it in the hole. It's trickier, but it's also less likely to knock one of the stripes in if she can pull it off. "Wish us luck," she calls back to Vesper, tossing him a glance over her shoulder before setting the cue into motion. She sweeps off the table with a nod as it rolls, almost thinking about not tipping it, but then it vanishes and the point stays with them. Keeping any smart comment locked in her mouth this time, she extends the stick to Vesper, reluctant to give it up even when he takes it, if only to hold him for a beat. "8 ball's all yours sugar. Let's finish this before he does something stupid."
All the things that he says, go straight to my head
Worships me slowly, tells me I'm his only
They say he's morally grey
What can I say? Grey's my favorite color
Worships me slowly, tells me I'm his only
They say he's morally grey
What can I say? Grey's my favorite color
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.
