jack_f_twist | (no subject)

(no subject)

The problem with working with horses, mostly, is that you end up smelly and sweating and unwilling to go back inside, even though it's more comfortable there. But you get used to the open space, and the work, and somehow going in to sit by the fire just seems stifling. Not to mention people look at you kinda funny when you smell like horse and hay.

Which is a long way of saying that Jack has opted to sit on outside this evening, smoking slowly and taking a few sips from a flask of whiskey that he'd smuggled out of the bar proper, watching the gray clouds roll slowly over the lake and forest. Feels like rain.

Fuckin' damp Scottish weather.

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She takes it. Not in a professional sense.

Her handshake is cool, and hard, like gunmetal.

"Death."

There's a pause, and he looks at her, hard.

Her hand in his is small, but not frail.

"That ain't a nickname, is it?" It isn't really a question. After all, Desire isn't a nickname, either, so Jack's learned.

She smiles.

It's beautiful.

"Nope."

It's the loveliest smile Jack's ever seen, a curve like that of the moon rising over the lake.

He nods, swallows.

"Didn't really think so."

Smoke, drifting out of her mouth, floating up in the air.

"Not here for you, though. If it helps."

He grins, a bit.

"Ma'am, I figure, if you was here for me, I'd a known it by now, wouldn't I?"

"Well, you never know. There could be some great damn bird that falls out of the sky and directly on your head. And then I'd have to be there."

She's grinning back.

"You let me know 'f that's gonna happen," he chuckles. "Though I guess it wouldn't rightly matter much, either way."

He glances back at her.

"Least I'd go lookin' at a pretty smile. Kinda do hope it ain't a bird gets me, though."

What a way to go that would be.

"Aww, you're sweet."

She takes one final drag on the cigarette before crushing it out.

"Gotta tell you, though, I've seen weirder."

"Yeah, I c'n bet."

His smile fades, slightly, and he fiddles with his own cigarette. He's seen Death before, but usually she's looked like a bull mistepping and crushing a luckless rider, or sounded like the sharp report of a gun and the crash as an elk falls to the ground.

He much prefers this.

She is what she is.

"I could tell you stories. But, somehow, I don't think you'd appreciate it that much."

"Can't say as I would, ma'am."

He turns his head to look over at her, smiles a little.

"You ain't so scary, like this."

"I'm glad."

He nods, half to himself.

"Shit. Really do got just 'bout every one, here."

That's half to himself, too.

"You got that right. Talking cars and sentient music and an intelligent rock... it's quite amazing."

She grins, a little.

"You wouldn't have any more of that whiskey, would you?"

"Sure do," he says, and passes the flask over with a lopsided sort of smile.

"Kinda growing on me, though. This place."

It helps, really, that Ennis is here.

Actually, that's likely the entire reason why.

She takes it, with a grin, and raises it toward him, a little. "Thanks." She sips, and makes the requisite whiskeyface.

"Mm. Yeah. It does that. It does that rather a lot, I find."

Jack grins at her. The whiskeyface is, like the rest of her, bewilderingly cute. Which isn't really a word that exists in his vocabulary.

"When it ain't shovin' you off your feet with surprises, anyway," he adds.

"You know..." she's regarding the flask, now, as if it holds secrets of the universe. Or episodes of South Park. "...there's not that much that shocks me anymore."

Sadly, it's just whiskey. And not even good whiskey, at that.

He snorts a light laugh.

"C'n believe that. Don't see how anyone could surprise you, ma'am."

She takes another sip. Whiskeyface! Again. And passes it back.

"It's rather difficult. I mean. Once in a while, it happens."

"Guess I prob'ly don't want a know what could do that, either."

He takes the whiskey back, takes a swallow of it himself. His whiskeyface is near nonexistent.

"You probably don't. Mostly, it involves my family. Which is rather an odd bunch, anyway."

"Ain't they always?"

Jack looks mildly amused.

"'Course, yours is prob'ly a hell of a lot stranger 'n most."

"Whooooooboy. Kiddo, you have no idea. None."

Well, he's met Desire.

But, yeah.

NO IDEA.

He chuckles, a bit, looks out at the lake.

"They all here, too?"

"Not all of them. But about half the family pops in from time to time." She grins. "You should meet Del. I think you'd like her."

Honestly, Jack probably would like her.

Del would totally understand the invisible bull-riding.

"Yeah? I'll keep an eye out. What's she look like?"

"Really, it depends on what mood she's in. She's rather hard to miss, in any case."

((ooc: My brain is dying. Slowtime?))

Well, that don't make much since to Jack, exactly, but he's been here long enough to figure out that maybe it's best not to question, and he only nods, lights another cigarette and smokes slowly, watching the cigarette smoke float in a gray cloud out towards the lake.

Strange, ain't it, how he can feel so warmed just by a smile, and maybe when he looks again, maybe the girl's still there and they chat for a while longer, talking nothing important, really--family and rodeo and life and what a funny thing it is.

Or maybe there's nothing but the curve of the moon rising over the lake.

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