[SE] Keep on gettin' myself burned, you'd think I'd quit chasing the sun

Colt

The devil's always on my heels, but I keep him on his toes
It might be the highway, and it might be these songs
It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs

Not paying much mind to the passing ons around her, figuring she'll be easily offered the same amount of attention and rather preferring it that way, she doesn't register the nearing footsteps and how they slow. She's dimly aware there's a figure nearing, her peripherals catching the motion, but it's not until the greeting lands that Colt's focus shifts from hat to ancient. Her cigarette is competing with the moisture in the air, cherry glow more like a muted brick, but it lights up suddenly as Colt inhales deeply.

"Hey blondie," she returns from the corner of her mouth, smoke soon streaming free after it as her exhale deepens beyond words. Despite herself, a flicker of a smile tugs into place on one edge as she tips her hat back on. "Why, you peddlin' maps these days?" Her smile deepens. "Lost, sure. That's a word for it. I've been calling it ruined, but yours has a better face to it. Sounds dreamier." Her hand has claimed her cigarette, the tattooed fingers seating around the filter nicely, riding it around the air as she talks, faint trails of smoke billowing after it.

Ain't no way around it, one day I'm gonna die
If something's gonna kill me
Might as well be what makes me feel alive