Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
Thal watches Colt ring the dainty bell, having heard of such nonsense in passing. But it takes everything in her to picture her in that situation, trying and failing to imagine herself lounging in a frilly dress, beckoning someone to adjust the curtain where the sun has deigned to assault her gaze. Pastries strewn around her, ribbons woven in her hair. Everything soft and easy in a way that she's never come close to experiencing.
Her lips form a playful sneer of disgust at the thought, already knowing the answer when she asks, "Is that what you take me for? A lazy priss who needs a bell to get people to do her bidding?" She raises a dark brow, a teasing accusation forming when she adds, "Or are you saying you want one?" Colt strikes her as the kind of person who likes the idea of others pampering her but wouldn't be able to handle sitting still long enough for someone to pour her a cold glass of anything. One of the many things they seem to have in common.
When Colt presents her own choice, Thal's eyes alight with a silent 'Of course' and 'I should have known' as she shakes her head, settling for a single word that says it all. "Typical." But she can't hide the fond laughter that caresses the syllables, not because Colt is predictable, but because Thal feels that she knows her well enough to have guessed anyways.
Regardless, she settles her hands in her pockets, waiting patiently for the rancher to purchase her cow bell so they can move on.
Her lips form a playful sneer of disgust at the thought, already knowing the answer when she asks, "Is that what you take me for? A lazy priss who needs a bell to get people to do her bidding?" She raises a dark brow, a teasing accusation forming when she adds, "Or are you saying you want one?" Colt strikes her as the kind of person who likes the idea of others pampering her but wouldn't be able to handle sitting still long enough for someone to pour her a cold glass of anything. One of the many things they seem to have in common.
When Colt presents her own choice, Thal's eyes alight with a silent 'Of course' and 'I should have known' as she shakes her head, settling for a single word that says it all. "Typical." But she can't hide the fond laughter that caresses the syllables, not because Colt is predictable, but because Thal feels that she knows her well enough to have guessed anyways.
Regardless, she settles her hands in her pockets, waiting patiently for the rancher to purchase her cow bell so they can move on.
I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name
but everybody knows my name
Thalassa
