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
It might be the highway, and it might be these songs
It might be the whiskey or the smoke inside these lungs
Her hat tilts, the two feathers she’s stuck in it humming against the breeze, while she lights her cigarette in the cup of her body and hand. The first hit lands like air she didn’t know she was starved for, and her chest holds it, meaning for long and tight, but the sudden slide of Jack's voice releases the smoke on a cough that jolts sudden and forceful. It soon enough peters out into a laugh, near breathless but felt. "That they do," she says after a sip of air, angling her head up to better see the Captain. "Guess I got homesick," she says as glances back down the dock to the hills ahead. Her tone is too flat to be honest, no warmth or nostalgia braided into the reason she offers, not when the reminder of what she'd just hauled up and left still sits so fresh.
Strange times to consider Jack Barclay safer footing than what's in Torchline, but she at least appreciates always knowing where she stands with him. If he doesn't like something, he doesn't dress it up so pretty as a birthday party just to tell her. "What's your experience with Dream Cacti?" she asks him, flicking her ash over the water before passing the filter to her lips to hold. She reaches into her boot and pulls out a small pack of what she'd harvested recently, tossing it to him. "Hak Etme could produce a lot more of it if we could establish better trade routes for it," she eases the idea around another draught of nicotine.
Strange times to consider Jack Barclay safer footing than what's in Torchline, but she at least appreciates always knowing where she stands with him. If he doesn't like something, he doesn't dress it up so pretty as a birthday party just to tell her. "What's your experience with Dream Cacti?" she asks him, flicking her ash over the water before passing the filter to her lips to hold. She reaches into her boot and pulls out a small pack of what she'd harvested recently, tossing it to him. "Hak Etme could produce a lot more of it if we could establish better trade routes for it," she eases the idea around another draught of nicotine.
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
If something's gonna kill me
Might as well be what makes me feel alive
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.
