she's my kind of rain

VESPER

The Greatwood is beginning to blush. Leafchange has only just touched the forest’s edges, but already the canopy above the Skyport shimmers with hints of gold and copper, the breeze tugging lazily through the high branches like fingers in a lover’s hair. Below, the wooden platforms creak softly in the early evening hush, the world hovering on that golden cusp between day and night.

Vesper's leaned against the railing just shy of the docking platform, posture easy, casual—every inch of him draped in the kind of effortless charm that looks unplanned but is anything but. His shirt is charcoal, sleeves rolled neatly to the elbow, collar open just enough to whisper suggestion without being gauche. A silver chain rests against his collarbone, subtle and sharp, and his trousers are pressed but soft enough to say he doesn’t mind getting them dirty. His boots are well-worn; his smile isn’t. Yet. A single flower spins between his fingers; not a bouquet—just one.

It’s small, pale violet, plucked from a sun-drenched slope somewhere between Torchline and here. Something hardy and wild, with a stem that curves like it grew on its own terms. He twirls it absently, watching it catch the fading light, constellations beginning to wink into the indigo sky above his head like old friends. He doesn’t pace, doesn’t check the sky impatiently. He simply waits, long fingers toying with the stem, his other hand resting in the dip of his pocket.

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

She'd laid out the dress the night they'd made the plans. She'd wake up to it each day draped in the corner of her room, a quiet reminder of reality to keep her from thinking it merely one of her lingering dreams. It'd been easier ever since—sleeping, existing. She still sees reminders of him in places she doesn't expect, but they doesn't threaten to overtake her like they once did, because now they're not the last of him she'll get. They're glances of more to come that she tucks away into her thoughts with a smile, like a dress hanging up with a day to wear it.

It's black as a winter night, cut deep and open at the chest, with straps that hug her lower shoulders more for look than function. A high slit traces the length of her thigh with the sort of boldness she usually keeps in her grin, while the hem in back spills down into a short train, trailing her like twilight does the sun. Her hair has been partially pulled up, leaving a splash of gold down the open line of her spine, the rest wrangled with bobby pins and carefully arranged into pleats. A dusting of makeup frames her eyes with dark edges, and puts a red sheen to her lips. Diamonds dangle from her ears and drip against her throat in a delicate chain, catching any scrap of light like water over polished stone. A silver charm bracelet circles her wrist, jingling for her with the absence of her spurs, and a ring or two winks from her fingers whenever her hands shift or speak for her. Matte black heels tie everything together, adding a sharper tilt to her hips, even if they leave her moving with a slower, more deliberate stride than her well-worn boots.

Every girl needs a little black dress. They especially need a reason to put it on.

She retreats from the edge of the ship when it docks, quietly pressing a hand to the back of an older man as they step off together. With the distraction of getting ready gone, she made a point to find someone to talk to on the trip, not trusting the time alone where thoughts would have gathered worry like a bucket does rain. She watches the slow retreat of the man before flicking her gaze over the platform. She finds Vesper immediately, propped up against the railing like the devil dressed in Sunday best. The way he waits for her, steady and expectant, knots her heart up in the best kind of way.

He's always been too damn handsome for her own good, made of lean lines and dusk-soft edges, sprawled with the easy-boned grace of someone who always looks like nothing in the world can hurry him along, like he's as inevitable as nightfall—for her, he is. She closes the distance between them, stopping just shy of brushing against him, gaze dropping to the wildflower spinning in his fingers before traveling to his face. Nothing could keep back the smile that starts to break out. "Well now, if it ain't the best thing I’ve seen all week."

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

He feels her coming like a shift in air pressure. Her presence, golden and slow-blooming, rolls in at the edges of his mind with the scent of resin and something warmer beneath, like orchard fire on wool. It winds through him before her heels ever touch timber, and he lets it; lets her gather behind him like the night behind a curtain. Only when she’s close enough for the weight of her gaze to brush the back of his neck does he turn, a smooth pivot that draws no attention to itself. His eyes are already finding her, drinking in the sight with the kind of patience that most men forget how to wield.

His mouth curves gradually, as if pulled by gravity itself, one corner tipping before the other. Because of course she looks like that—draped in midnight, stitched with every inch of boldness she usually keeps in her grin. Black silk cleaved up the thigh like it’d been dared to, red gloss smudged onto a mouth made to ruin him, and a flash of light from the constellation of jewellery glinting at her throat and wrist. It’s not the sort of beauty that asks for approval. It just is.

Vesper doesn’t offer compliments she already knows are true. Doesn’t fumble to find words she'd beat him for using. Instead, he pushes off the railing with unhurried grace and steps into her orbit. His fingers are still turning the violet by its stem as he studies her, sharp and slow, then, "Come're."  He lifts the flower and tucks it with clinical precision into one of the plaits she’s arranged in her hair, angling his wrist with the familiarity of someone who’s wrestled braids into place on a twin mid-squabble. The violet nestles there like it belongs—something stubborn and lovely in the middle of all that golden fire. 

Only when he’s finished does he step back, blue eyes flicking up to hers with a kind of warm amusement. "Must’ve had a dull week," he murmurs, low and drawling. And then, with a shift as smooth as moonlight changing angles through glass, he leans in, close enough for her breath to catch his collar. His lips hover just above hers, and when he speaks again it’s quieter, coaxing the edge of her pulse toward him. "Our reservation’s not for a while." A pause, heat ghosting between them. "Take a walk with me?"

The kiss that follows isn’t deep, but it isn't meant to be. Just a brush of promise—a whisper of what’s to come. A slow press of lips that lingers long enough to be missed when it ends.

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

She could watch him lean on a rail all damn day and never get tired of it, but seeing him slip off it to step towards her, even better. When he reaches for her hair, surprise smooths an edge of her smile and she tips her head with compliance, though it appears he's skilled enough to manage it all on his own. At his withdrawal, she can't help but set a curious brush of fingers against the new addition to her crown. She approves with all the girlish wonder of someone who's not bothered to decorate herself for a long while, but who once worked just as hard as this wild violet to bloom for the world to see.

She holds her twinkling hand up against her cheek and tilts into it to playfully display the change he's made as his stare resettles. His tease lands true, because yes, things are infinitely duller in his absence, and she's preparing to say something not quite along those lines when he's suddenly hovering at the edge of their distance. Everything pulls back in and tangles up, breath hitching, but it's the curl of his words that find her instead of his mouth. "Alright," she manages to get past before the kiss sinks in.

Her hand slips from her own cheek to his, light against him, unable to resist the contact once it’s there. She leans in a hair before it all ends, chasing that hush he brings down over her world, where everything feels soft and right. When they pull away, she lingers for a moment, letting that last hint of him remain with her as long as she can. She even keeps her smile from coming in, like it might erase the echo of his touch on her lips. She slips her hand down, drawing it through the fold of his elbow, tugging herself into place alongside him. "Lead the way, honey," she murmurs. "No hiking though," she warns with a smirk, "don't think the footwear can handle it. Unless you plan on carrying me."

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

He can feel her thoughts as if they were mist against his skin, curling slow and warm around the edges of his mind—soft surprise, that flicker of pleasure like sunlight caught on glass, and something deeper that settles into him like heat into stone. He doesn’t chase it, but instead just lets it steep.

Her hand on his cheek lingers longer than the kiss. It still hums through him when her fingers slip down to hook into the crook of his arm, nestling into place like she’s always belonged there. "Lead?" Vesper echoes with a grin, one brow arching lazily. "Now what would I do a foolish thing like that for." It was a figure of speech, sure, but Colt wasn't the sort of woman to just follow along.

Rather than tug her along, he lifts their joined hands and brushes a featherlight kiss to her knuckles, mouth warm against her skin. Then he laces their fingers together—no pressure, no pull, just the offering of place. At his side rather than toddling along in his shadow. He lets his eyes drift pointedly down to the heels clicking soft against the platform. A quiet chuckle escapes him, low and edged with memory. "You already know I’d carry you,”" he says, voice pitched to her alone.

And though his pace is slow—metronomed to her stride, careful on the wood-planked stairs—there’s a coiled sort of elegance to it. The garden path unfolds ahead in a ribbon of warm gold and wandering light, lanterns swaying like sleepy fireflies, and here and there, flickers of will o’ wisps glimmer where they please, unbothered by rules or guests. They walk in silence for a stretch. Long enough for her warmth to soak into his side. Long enough for him to feel the edges of her tension begin to ease, just a fraction. Then, like he’s about to remark on the foliage or some other idle thing, Vesper leans slightly, close enough for the next breath she takes to pull him in. His voice slides between the hush and the gold.

"You look so godsdamn stunning tonight," he murmurs, every syllable unhurried, the kind of praise meant to be worn—not just heard. "Would’ve told you sooner, but I got a little distracted by seein' you like this."

And just like that, he straightens again. Keeps walking. Though Vesper doesn't look down at Colt, there's a smile on his lips as he waits to see if her pulse will echo the shape of his words.

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

There's a rise to her 'brows when he declines to lead, and she's almost not sure if she's missed a joke or not. "Well, because you're the one that knows where the hell we're goin', or so I thought." If he wants it to be the blind leading the blind they can stumble around these pretty woods all night. She certainly appreciates the notion, but there's times to lead and times to be led for anyone, including her, and she sure is hoping one of them takes up the mantle once they hit the dance floor otherwise they'll both be foolish.

The kiss to her knuckles stirs butterflies in her stomach, a sensation she tries to keep under control, but it still leaks out in the soft line of her mouth. The way he laces their fingers together after, setting her at his side, begs her to wonder how she ever thought this man might taunt her with devotion. The low reminder he provides summons a familiar warmth through her, the sort only he can deliver, with all the coals of it soaked in trust and salt. "You're mad if you think I'd get on a horse wearing this," she laughs, fingers tightening against his for a moment. She could, but she absolutely would not. She's no intention of picking horse hair out of this fabric, and she means to keep everything velvet tonight.

She marvels at the show that carries on around them as they walk, tilting her head up, gaze trailing over shifting leaves. Summer’s easy green has given way to wild, flaming reds and soft, gold-washed edges across the Greatwood, making every branch look as if it’s been set alight—bold and blazing, a torch heralding the season’s turn. The air itself carries the faint tang of leaf litter gathering, a promise of colder nights still waiting on the horizon, a pleasant calm as everything that had been busy through spring and summer finally comes to rest. Lanterns bob along the path, catching the breeze and scattering their amber glow over each step. It softens the deeper shadows, painting the fading greens with honey-light until they nearly glow. Here and there, will-o’-wisps spark and wander, drifting like lazy stars that can’t quite find their way back into the net of dusk above.

There’s a touch of magic in it all, something that wanders too lovely against all the rough edges of her, a warmth trying to melt them into something smooth again. No matter how jagged life gets, the splendor of the world always calls to her, steady as a river cutting through stone. Sharing it with him makes it feel deeper, clearer, sharper—something coming into focus through the water that she didn't realize had grown blurry with silt. After so many wildfire moments over the years, the sort that burn clean through and leave her hollow and ashen, she's trying to remember how to keep something banked low, fed with the embers of moments instead of the blaze of a night, how to build affection instead of ruin.

The lean of him stutters her step, gaze flicking to him in silent question, though the slide of his voice catching her right in the chest provides the answer. The faintest blush creeps in, never one to take direct compliments too well, always a spotlight that feels too bright. There's no denying the way she shines a bit more for it though, a contented grin catching up to her slow, surprised smile. "I was starting to wonder..." she teases, though it comes out softer than she means with the satisfaction still wrapped around her. "Thought maybe I failed," she mutters slyly, cutting him a sidelong glance. "Figured I had enough night left to change your mind, but sounds like I'm passing after all."

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

The laugh Colt gives him over the horse remark earns a sideways glance, sly and golden in the flickering light. "Mm. I recall you ridin’ in a good deal less," he murmurs, letting the words drag just enough to spark heat beneath the implication. "Maybe them heels made you forget how to sit me proper." The chuckle that follows is quiet—low in his throat, a little devil’s laugh that doesn’t quite break its own rhythm—but the look he casts her from the corner of his eye is pure restraint. Taut. Deliberate. A coiled thing barely held back by the civility of candlelight and forest hush.

And still, he says nothing more as they walk—lets her take in the autumn-dipped world around them, the fire-burnished leaves, the soft hush of old bark and newer longing. He can feel how it moves through her. How it smooths her, melts her—how she tries not to let it. But then she speaks again. That blush. That glance. That quiet note of doubt twined into her humour, dressed like something light even though it lands heavier in her chest than she wants to admit.

So he stops walking.

Steps out ahead, just enough to turn back to her fully, the lantern-light painting silver along the line of his cheekbone. His hand rests easy in his pocket, but his gaze doesn’t pretend to be casual. It drags over her like she’s the answer to a question he hasn’t asked aloud—like if he stares long enough, maybe he’ll forget every other appetite that ever tried to compete. "You didn’t fail," he says, voice lower now, velvet-soft and curved around something hungrier. "Did the opposite of it in fact." His head tilts, slow and deliberate. "Though...if we’re bein’ honest—" He pauses, dark eyes dipping once down the line of her dress, the way it hugs her curves and tempts every part of his better judgement.

"—I’ve got no godsdamn clue if I’ve got the willpower to make it past our appetizers." He grins, slow and wicked, stepping just a fraction closer into her orbit. "’Cause you, darlin’, are the thing that’s got my mouth waterin’ and it's gonna be hell to try and pretend otherwise."

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

The click of her heels stops as she halts, the shape of him obstructing her, and hasn't that been the case for a while now in some form or another. He manages to make everything look easy, even his restraint. It's there in the way he holds himself, the coiled grace that never seems to leave, the lean of all his edges that find comfort regardless of the setting. Meanwhile for her, there’s something about looking at him that always feels like missing the last step on a staircase—that sudden drop in her chest, a jolt of thrill she still doesn’t know how to brace for.

This isn’t like the quiet glances she steals when he isn’t looking, or the ones that blend harmless among the day’s work when they’re shoulder to shoulder. This is open admiration, laid bare under lanternlight, taking him in without apology. The glow of it catches on that slow, dangerous grin, of his, and for a heartbeat she marvels that a man built of dusk and moonlight can set her alight so effortlessly. Heat creeps up her neck before she can wrestle it down, catching under her ribs like a lungful of summer smoke. The way he looks at her—steady, hungry, as though she’s something worth savoring—near pulls the whole damn staircase out from under her.

She doesn’t let the match-strike he drags across her yield distance. Instead, she leans into the heat he conjures, answering that wicked grin with one of her own. She steps in closer, so their words can hang between just them and the lanternlight. "Good thing we know you can make it through hell then," she says sweetly as she drags her finger and thumb along the bottom of his jaw, holding his chin for a second. "Having dessert so early will just spoil your appetite for the whole night."

Gods, it takes effort, more than she’d ever admit, to let go of his jaw. She can feel the pull of him like a warm fire on a cold night, and if she's ever wondered how moths can be so foolish as to fly right into the flame, she's got a better idea now. She manages to gather a breath though and tugs on his arm instead as she takes a step back towards the path. If she doesn’t, she knows damn well they'll never make it out of these woods.

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

His laugh slides low between them, not bright but rich, like something aged in barrels and better sipped than swallowed whole. "Mm," he hums, head tilting slightly, the firelight catching the sharp line of his cheek. "Hak Etme’s a godsforsaken stretch of dust and bone, sure. But I think keepin’ my hands off you tonight might be worse." It’s not a compliment, not really. More a confession, shaped like something casual and laid gently into the space she’s just left behind.

He watches her like a man watches fire—not with fear, but with the steady hunger of someone who’s been cold too long. Her fingers trail beneath his jaw and his breath doesn’t stutter, not even once, but his lashes lower in slow appreciation. Not shy, but a touch calculated, as though he’s letting her have that moment, letting her think she’s leading—while every part of him is already counting the ways she’s undone him. And gods, it’s a touch that speaks of taming things. Not with a whip. Not with teeth. Just a quiet, knowing hand and the kind of grit that doesn’t need to prove itself. 

When she steps away, he lets her go. Lets her tug at his sleeve like it’s a leash he’s chosen to wear. There’s a softness in his motion, a rolling ease as he slips back into stride beside her, his free hand finding his pocket, his other curling warm into hers without fanfare.

"Nova's still talkin' about your rodeo," he says after a breath, voice low and amused, like the breeze teasing the lanterns overhead. "We could have saved ourselves a lot of time and just got her somethin’ dipped in glitter and callin’ it a day had I thought she'd be the winner." His gaze slides sidelong, more shadow than threat, more moon than sun—dark and watchful and amused all the same. "Then again, this would've been pretty empty if we had." So saying he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, revealing the black leather corded bracelet she'd given him for his birthday, the middle star of which held sand from the desert.

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

She's half expecting him to tug her back, another challenge to see how far her limits can flex, which never seems to be much at all when it comes to him. She makes a valiant stand once in a while, but always seems to do so in quicksand. His comment earns a knowing look from the corner of her gaze, a half smirk creeping in. All night, absolutely not, she'd never survive that long, or want to. For now though, seems apt to see just how long he they can last, especially after he went through all the trouble of planning something so nice, just to ruin it with twigs and dirt.

He finds his spot alongside her with the quiet practice of her shadow, though his presence is a great deal more noticeable, drifting against her with all the gravity that can move the sea. The fit of his fingers back into hers sparks a smile that breaks loose into a low laugh. "She deserves the luck," Colt admonishes, halfhearted at best, because while Nova had plenty of it with him looking after her, she'd need the kind she could have on her own too.

The weight of his look draws her eye, head inclining slightly, attention flicking down to the object he holds up. It's the last thing she expected to appear. Since he hadn't been wearing it she figured he left it home, put it in some drawer along with all his other assorted trinkets, or whatever manner he kept his room like. She hadn’t let herself hope he’d carry it, that he’d think it worth keeping close, but seeing it now sets something warm in her chest. She looks back at him, brighter than the amber light drifting all around, "you kept it." It's not a question, exactly—the proof of it is right there. Still, surprise has found a way in.

"Y'know," she says with a breathy laugh, "I never wanna do something like that again, but I'm real glad I did it with you." Maybe it'd been hell, but everything with him feels a little bit more survivable, even herself.

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

Vesper chuckles under his breath, low and crooked, like it’s been pulled up from somewhere warm and private. "That luck’s gonna go straight to her head," he murmurs, not quite looking at her yet. "Good thing I’ve got a whole other quest lined up to get her some armour from this snake I helped kill." His thumb brushes over the braided leather, his tone easy, but there’s something quieter beneath it. A weight. A pride. The kind of love he doesn’t say outloud; not often anyway.

But Colt’s still watching him, and her thoughts roll through him like a tide over sand, so when her gaze catches on the bracelet, when that flicker of disbelief opens wide and unguarded across her expression, he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t smirk or soften it. He just holds her there. "Was gonna ask you put it on," he says after a breath, voice lower now, thumb rubbing slow along the cord like he’s been waiting to say that. " But the party took a turn and I never quite got the chance."

Then, with a motion as fluid as the moon pulling the tide, he offers her his wrist. The constellation freckles there stir faintly, shifting like stars drawn toward her gravity. "Would you be so kind?" The look he gives her isn’t sweet. It’s too sharp for that. Too knowing. A grin cuts in, slow and wolfish, and he drags his free hand back through his hair, disheveling it just enough to match the lean of his posture. "And just so I’m clear," he drawls, the tease riding easy behind the words, "when you say you never wanna do somethin’ like that again...does that mean next year's rodeo won't have a belt buckle to win?" His brow lifts, amused. "Or just that we won't be roamin' through the desert to get it?"

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

It's no surprise to her that he's doing something to help one of his sisters, or that he's tussled with a snake strong enough to make armor from. While she's driving cattle and riding half wild things most days, he seems to be herding his siblings (as effective as rounding up any cat is) and wrestling with overgrown scales, if his last run in with a biiiiiig fish is any proof of routine. "Hope it was a pink snake," Colt smiles, the small impression she's had of Nova certainly proving to be a lasting one.

Admittedly it all fades though when she sees the bracelet in his hand, her focus narrowed to a pinpoint for a moment until a breath shakes it free. Just when she thinks she's regained her footing around him, he always manages to upend it all over again. He holds it like it weighs more than leather and sand, like the pass of his thumb is tracing all the places they’ve been. It gives her a flicker of faith that maybe some of the fondness she buried in that star is shared. "Yeah," she says quietly, "that turned into a bit of a cluster." Best not to drag up that particular shit show and to keep timeline wobbles out.

She smiles with something too full to keep it out of her eyes as she takes his wrist and the bracelet in hand. Her touch is featherlight as she fits the cord against his skin and spins it to pull the clasp to the top for easier maneuvering. Lining it up, she flicks her gaze back towards the blue of him as her fingers finish securing it with deft practice. "Why is everyone assuming I'm doing another rodeo?" she counters with an expression that attempts to look accusing, but only manages to look far too pleased with herself given he isn't the first or last person that'll be mentioning next year to her. Her attention drifts back to his wrist, twisting the band back around so now the sand-filled star and all its memories sit on top.

"I s'ppose if I did do another one, there'd have to be another buckle." That much, at least, is non-negotiable. As for the we of it, she doesn't miss the way he slides that in. It stirs something careful in her chest, a warmth that wants to reach further than it should. It's easier than it should be to picture him beside her a year from now, chasing down dreams once more. A slow grin curls one edge of her mouth, soft with caution. "Definitely no desert," she finishes, holding back the tease that they'll have to pick a different place for that date then. If there’s another grand adventure between them, they’ll have to find luck somewhere else, because as far as she’s concerned, the desert already gave her everything she needed.

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again

VESPER

Vesper’s grin unfurls slow and wicked, teeth flashing like moonlight caught on a blade. "Rainbow-coloured, actually," he drawls, watching her with a kind of lazy delight. "Had hallucinogenic properties, too. Whole fight felt like wrestlin’ a fever dream. Pretty sure it laughed at me in three voices." His head tips slightly, constellation freckles shifting faintly beneath the trees. "If Ma can keep the trip intact when she makes it into armour, Nova’ll be more dangerous than ever. Not sure if I oughta be proud or terrified, but either way, I think it'll keep her safe."

He stills as her fingers circle his wrist, the chill of the star resting against his pulse. His gaze doesn’t leave her, even when the clasp clicks home. The party flickers behind his eyes, but he doesn’t speak of it—only a slow flex of his jaw betrays the ghost of it, the weight of what went unsaid. And maybe that silence is the best he can offer. Not penance. Not denial. Just presence. Just this.

When she dares to suggest the rodeo might be a one-time thing, he lets out a short, amused snort, shaking his head. "You know damn well that thing was half a miracle and all yours." His thumb drags lightly across the heel of her hand before curling to catch it fully, threading their fingers together like it’s instinct. "If you don’t host another one, it’s just gonna appear on your porch anyway. Saddle bronc buckin’ on your front step, flowers eatin' by a bull. World’ll make it happen with or without your blessin’, that's how good of a job you did."

The grin he casts her next is less wolf, more fox—slightly crooked, a touch fond. "No more desert, then. But there’s places out there that don’t feel like walkin’ through hell. We could see a few of ‘em," he says, casual as wind through pine, but it’s an offering all the same. A quiet vision of tomorrows not yet promised.

He sighs then, exaggerated and theatrical, glancing back toward the moss-lined trail behind them. "Reckon we oughta head to the restaurant before they give away our table." But his gaze drops meaningfully to the arch of her heels, his eyebrow rising in quiet challenge. "Unless you’d rather ride back." The look he gives her is pure trouble, but his hand in hers is steady and warm. "Or detour altogether...?"

Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

COLT

You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away

He threads their fingers together like it’s always been that way. Like it's nothing, and yet somehow, it’s everything. The contact is simple, steady, but it does a number on her all the same. A small reminder, that he's here, that there's something other than heat delirium or the ghosts of old mistakes where he stands. "I can hardly take full credit, or did you already forget all the work you put in too?" Not just in the desert either, but in all the ways he showed up to make it happen, all the while acting like it's just another day when anyone else wouldn't have done even half of it.

A low laugh slips out as her mouth curves into a grin. “If I’m not mistaken,” she drawls, “that sounds an awful lot like a threat, considerin’ none of those should be anywhere near my lawn unless someone left the gates unlatched.” It all twists into a smirk, never tiring of giving him hell for the horse shift, and the thorough delight it brings her. “Sounds like you just wanna show off some more. I’ll get a blue ribbon for your mane if that’ll help appease you.”

She tips her chin up toward the forest unfolding in gold and flame around them. “Thought we already were walkin’ through somewhere that ain’t hell." Her free hand gestures outward at the lantern-lit path, the flaming branches, the soft flickers of wandering light. "Look at this place.” Seemingly missing the idea that he means for there to be more places for them to wander than just these woods. Even here, it feels like they've just scratched the surface.

Her attention falls back to him with his loud exhale, delivering trouble with coiled suggestion and open invitation. She chuckles, bumping his shoulder with her hand like she might knock the smug out of him. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, utterly fond, and gives him a slow, sidelong glance. “I’ll only be ridin’ you one way tonight, sugar. So you best choose wisely if you’re offerin’.” The smirk blooming on her face drifts a little more wicked, a little more promising. It's too early yet to be done in by heels, but not by him. Dinner or detour suited her just fine, but if he got horse hair on her dress he owed her a new one.

You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again