Tryin' to stay between the lines of who I am and who I used to be
He's almost downright chipper. It's such a staggering contrast to the tightrope she feels like she's balancing on beside him, hell just being here in this region at all, that it almost makes her wonder if she's still asleep on the skyship and imagining this like some nervous preparation for what will come. "Oh?" she says with a touch of surprise she can't keep in. "You found the secret ingredient to happiness, and your sharing it, with me?"
Because isn't that the difference here? He seems...happy. Maybe that's just what some good sleep does for you after so long without, a euphoria all its own. She's immediately skeptical, not that she suspects him of anything nefarious, but wondering if he didn't go and get himself scammed by some miracle elixir peddled to him by an excellent salesman.
That doubt swiftly crumbles into a puff of laughter. "I can safely say that whiskey is not the path to happiness." She wrinkles her nose as he produces quite possibly one of the most offensive liquors. The snapdragon might have more right to claim the title of mood improver, but both of them seem like vices he long ago would have tried. Maybe he's more straight and narrow than she ever noticed. Would certainly make sense he'd have tighter scruples elsewhere in his life, given how readily he erases limits in bed sheets.
The quick spread of his smile is a comforting thing. She swallows at the sight of it, trying to smooth out the jitters that risk revealing themselves the moment they tip back towards something serious. "Ah, I was wondering," she hums in thoughtful acknowledgement of his unicorn situation and cause. "Thought maybe they'd found a way to pester you without me." For a moment, it seems she means it as nothing more than idle chat, little more than curiosity. That he extends the invitation for her is an immediate relief, erasing all sense of imposing where she isn't needed, or worse, wanted. "Yeah," she answers with a tilt of her head, smile creeping into one cheek. "Yeah, I could swing that. Think it's the least I could do."
She takes the whiskey and snapdragon in hand, too distracted at the moment with thoughts of schedules and logistics and the rich, ache to enjoy the ranch-type work she knows and misses so thoroughly. She doesn't do anything with them, just holds them, almost not even seeming to be aware she's got them. Talk of the desert pulls her back firmly to the present, and all its worries, the desert just one such.
Suspicion returns swiftly, the unfortunate fact of being burned again so recently. "You don't actually want to know," she huffs, certain he's only being nice, or worse, digging for something to throw back in her face. Although he's acting so damn nice it doesn't seem likely, if not for the fact she expected something other than this. She's inclined to peek under the rug of all his pleasantries and find the dust bunnies, haul them out by their tangled little feet and shout aha, quite intentionally ruining a fine thing if only to keep the inevitable ruin from surprising her later.
Because isn't that the difference here? He seems...happy. Maybe that's just what some good sleep does for you after so long without, a euphoria all its own. She's immediately skeptical, not that she suspects him of anything nefarious, but wondering if he didn't go and get himself scammed by some miracle elixir peddled to him by an excellent salesman.
That doubt swiftly crumbles into a puff of laughter. "I can safely say that whiskey is not the path to happiness." She wrinkles her nose as he produces quite possibly one of the most offensive liquors. The snapdragon might have more right to claim the title of mood improver, but both of them seem like vices he long ago would have tried. Maybe he's more straight and narrow than she ever noticed. Would certainly make sense he'd have tighter scruples elsewhere in his life, given how readily he erases limits in bed sheets.
The quick spread of his smile is a comforting thing. She swallows at the sight of it, trying to smooth out the jitters that risk revealing themselves the moment they tip back towards something serious. "Ah, I was wondering," she hums in thoughtful acknowledgement of his unicorn situation and cause. "Thought maybe they'd found a way to pester you without me." For a moment, it seems she means it as nothing more than idle chat, little more than curiosity. That he extends the invitation for her is an immediate relief, erasing all sense of imposing where she isn't needed, or worse, wanted. "Yeah," she answers with a tilt of her head, smile creeping into one cheek. "Yeah, I could swing that. Think it's the least I could do."
She takes the whiskey and snapdragon in hand, too distracted at the moment with thoughts of schedules and logistics and the rich, ache to enjoy the ranch-type work she knows and misses so thoroughly. She doesn't do anything with them, just holds them, almost not even seeming to be aware she's got them. Talk of the desert pulls her back firmly to the present, and all its worries, the desert just one such.
Suspicion returns swiftly, the unfortunate fact of being burned again so recently. "You don't actually want to know," she huffs, certain he's only being nice, or worse, digging for something to throw back in her face. Although he's acting so damn nice it doesn't seem likely, if not for the fact she expected something other than this. She's inclined to peek under the rug of all his pleasantries and find the dust bunnies, haul them out by their tangled little feet and shout aha, quite intentionally ruining a fine thing if only to keep the inevitable ruin from surprising her later.
Colt
I been livin', I been losin', findin' out that I can't run from me
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.
