You will never do anything in this world without courage.
The distracted statement isn't what he expects, glancing down at the mud that playfully tries to tickle her boot, rising and falling in miniature waves that are too thick to be fast. He supposes 'gooey' is a good description, although the reaction still puzzles him when he looks up to see the floating smile she wears. "Uh. Yeah. It is."
It doesn't take more than a second look for him to figure out what's going on; because as much as people might guess he was born and raised a pure-bred Dragoon, Zavien grew up on these streets. He's seen the glassy eyes and the sluggish movements, heard the ramble of unfiltered thoughts hijacked by train robbers on a mission to cloud nine. He's dodged his fair share of discombobulated punches and helped most of them stumble home afterwards, hoping they found what they were looking for in the momentary escape from reality.
At least Colt doesn't seem to be the kind who hallucinates or thinks they can jump off buildings, but it doesn't change the bit of concern he holds for the rancher who'd seemed so fond of living in the moment: embracing the breeze on horseback, telling campfire stories under the stars, stealing every second of life from two seconds of adrenaline. It doesn't quite match the image of dilated pupils and waving hands that never settle long enough for the present reality to catch them.
Realizing that she's in no immediate danger, he saves his questions and worries for another time, slipping into the easier reaction of subtle amusement and tactful monitoring. His smile is light and slightly crooked as he chuckles. 'Zambor?' Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "Close enough. Zavien." Not that he thinks the name will stick. As for the 'zucchini' suggestion, he stands, dusting his hands against his jeans. His head shakes with sympathetic disappointment, unable to hide the glint of humor in the green of his eyes. "Sorry, I don't, but I can help you find some. Are you hungry?"
It doesn't take more than a second look for him to figure out what's going on; because as much as people might guess he was born and raised a pure-bred Dragoon, Zavien grew up on these streets. He's seen the glassy eyes and the sluggish movements, heard the ramble of unfiltered thoughts hijacked by train robbers on a mission to cloud nine. He's dodged his fair share of discombobulated punches and helped most of them stumble home afterwards, hoping they found what they were looking for in the momentary escape from reality.
At least Colt doesn't seem to be the kind who hallucinates or thinks they can jump off buildings, but it doesn't change the bit of concern he holds for the rancher who'd seemed so fond of living in the moment: embracing the breeze on horseback, telling campfire stories under the stars, stealing every second of life from two seconds of adrenaline. It doesn't quite match the image of dilated pupils and waving hands that never settle long enough for the present reality to catch them.
Realizing that she's in no immediate danger, he saves his questions and worries for another time, slipping into the easier reaction of subtle amusement and tactful monitoring. His smile is light and slightly crooked as he chuckles. 'Zambor?' Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "Close enough. Zavien." Not that he thinks the name will stick. As for the 'zucchini' suggestion, he stands, dusting his hands against his jeans. His head shakes with sympathetic disappointment, unable to hide the glint of humor in the green of his eyes. "Sorry, I don't, but I can help you find some. Are you hungry?"
Zavien
It is the greatest quality of mind next to honor.
