ikissdhimbck | OOM: Outside, Stables -- For Tommy Gavin

"Well, one horse has already taken advantage of me today..."

Tommy keeps a better handle on the reins as they walk on, keeping an eye on Duncan and trying to gauge if he's got some other idea of where he wants to go.

He utters a thoughtful chuckle. "Yeah, our methods for clearing our heads are obviously different, but the goal's the same, at least."

A bit more pensively he adds, "I used to drink a lot for the same reason. If you asked me a couple months ago what I enjoyed doing, I would've said drinking. I actually liked to drink for the sake of drinking, sure -- I mean, I still love the taste of whiskey even though I can't have it -- but drinking has that special added bonus of making you forget things you don't wanna think about. The more you wanna forget, the more you drink, blah blah blah. A wrong kind of freedom, but freedom nonetheless."

A pause, and he utters another chuckle, brighter and more amused this time. "And now I'm stone cold sober, sitting on the back of a horse, with you, at the end of the goddamn universe. I dunno how that happened. Does this count as freedom?"

"Guess y'just have a natural allure."

Her cheeky grin is short-lived. She doesn't grasp why he 'can't' have a drink the way a modern woman might, doesn't know what Alcoholics Anonymous even means, but she understands the rest of it. She understands it the way a banker may not know a thing about deep sea diving, but they know the feel of a rock in your belly that drags you down.

She glances out ahead.

"Yes, well. The thing 'bout that is the memories always come back. No matter how much y'drink t'try an' drown 'em out. Best y'can hope for is feelin' numb for a while; hopin' old ghosts don't come 'round talkin'. S'that freedom? I dunno. Still feels like a cage t'me. Like I'm crawlin' outta my head jus' t'let somethin' else crawl in."

She leans forward to pat Rachat's neck, Tommy's chuckle rattling her bones. Her mouth twists, the question catching her off guard.

"I ain't freedom, Tommy. I'm just a dust devil kickin' up earth. This place puts on a real good show, though — "

When she looks at him again, her smile has resumed its wild abandon.

"Jus' wait until y'really go for a ride with me."

The mention of ghosts makes his hand that's resting on the saddle horn tighten slightly, and he swallows, falling silent and wondering if she's just being metaphorical. But she's right about the numbness -- that was all he sought for the pain. Not a cure, not a solution, just anesthesia. It felt like freedom at the time. It wears off, but the pain never does.

When he catches her smile, though, he can't help an answering grin, sly and crooked, eyes narrowed and appraising. Is she being metaphorical again? He still hasn't been able to read her when she says things like that. Women who wear cowboy boots and hats unironically weren't even on his radar until he came to Milliways.

He stares ahead, the corners of his mouth still twisted upward. "Somehow I get the feeling that if I really go for a ride with you, a couple things could probably happen, one of 'em being that I'd find myself agreeing to another deal and spending way more time on a horse than I ever expected to in my entire life. Nothin' against horses, I'm actually starting to like horses, but I think you get the idea now that I sure as hell ain't that much of a cowboy. As for the other thing that could happen..."

A beat.

"Well. I already told you that I ain't that much of a gentleman, either."

Another beat, in which he shoots her a glance.

"Lack of a hat an' all."

She glances back, eyes narrowing in a quick tic.

She isn't all that sure she follows. For one thing, if he's starting to like horses then why not spend more time around them, cowboy or no? It isn't like he's pressed for time here; what else is he gonna do in a bar where he doesn't drink?

But it's the 'other thing' that really confounds her. She's quietly connecting the dots, trying to read between the lines of a man who already feels like a monograph.

Eventually, voice as dry as the desert, she says:

"If you're askin' my permission t'court more of my stock, I'm afraid I hafta put my foot down."

Tommy chuffs out a laugh at that.

Plus he hasn't heard the word court in this context since he last heard stories about how his great-grandparents met in the Old Country. (Boy meets girl; boy courts girl; boy beats up every other boy in the county who sets eyes on girl; boy marries girl; boy and girl sail to America; the end.)

Amused, he shakes his head, turning to look at her with an insufferable grin even though she sounds as sarcastic as a cactus.

"Not exactly, but..." He loosely shrugs his shoulders, turning his gaze back to the path ahead of them. "I still owe you another bourbon next time we're at the bar."

"Good. Because if a hat's the only thing keepin' you from goin' down a dark road t'harrier an' less two-legged sweethearts, I'll buy you a damn hat."

She chases the statement with a quick smirk. It's obvious she's mocking him, though it's not to be cruel; the only reason she doesn't make a follow-up about what a shame it would be should he abandon the fairer sex is because she's gleaning his intent now.

At least, she's suspicious. But with Gotland a week behind her, along with everything Teja said, she doesn't want to encourage him. She's got enough to figure out.

Still.

"You can always buy me a bourbon. Or a sodapop."

Another bright-eyed glance.

"I'm not choosy."

She gets a short, sharp laugh with a side of eyeroll. Oh, she's a ball-buster, that's for sure. Somehow, he always seems to find them.

Not that it's a deterrent or anything. Sometimes it only encourages him.

At least she's still somewhat interested, if coyly so. But they've already shared so much so quickly, and Tommy can't help but feel that this makes things different between them. For him, more often than not, the sex comes first, the details come later -- if at all.

He's not going to push it.

"Alright," he says harmlessly enough, though he can never fully rid his smile of that toothy wolfishness. "I'm not choosy, either."

The lake is just ahead of them now and its calm surface is dazzling in the late morning sunshine. Tommy's never approached the lake from this side before, so it's a whole new perspective on the end of the universe.

"Is it true that there's a giant squid in there?"

Because talking about giant squid after abandoning an attempt at steering this acquaintanceship toward casual sex is the most natural thing to do.

At the End of the Universe, anything goes. There's a popular soap opera that very well might agree; sex + squid = common conversational progression.

Her grin slides the way butter skirrs across a hot pan, stretching from ear to ear.

Yeah, I just bet you ain't choosy.

"There's two, actually. Hey — you're in luck, come t'think of it. They play fetch."

Between the horses and the squid Kate will frankenstein you a dog yet, Tommy.

He pulls a face.

"Really? What--? How is that even--? ...Never mind. I don't wanna know."

Fuckin' Milliways, man.

Taking his mirrored sunglasses from his t-shirt collar, he unfolds them and slips them on, and he squints out over the lake, checking for suspicious-looking ripples. But Kate is also in his line of sight, so he catches her with the light in her hair and her proud profile shadowed under the brim of her hat. After a few moments he turns back to the trail.

"Yeah, the only squid I deal with are fried and dipped in marinara sauce. Ever tried calamari?"

Her profile turns a little less proud at the question. She pulls a face.

"Can't say as I have. Clamari's squid? Why on earth would y'eat anythin' so — "

She pauses, thinking, and pantomimes squid with a wriggling of her fingers.

"Besides, the ones here are sweethearts. Dontcha wanna meet 'em?"

She raises her chin and the shadow flees from her eyes. She's all blue-eyed curiosity now, limned in sunshine. The teasing cut of her mouth hasn't changed, but it's grown a little gentler. She'll give him time to answer before she implies he's a pussy cat again.

"'Cause they're tasty, that's why," he chuckles. "And no, I don't wanna meet the squid. I think I've reached my limit of new Milliways experiences for today, thankyouverymuch. If they decide to show themselves for whatever reason, fine, but I ain't gonna shake their tentacles or nothin'."

A beat as he turns to her, arching an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. "I don't suppose they have names, too."

"Ah."

Yes, of course they have names. Perfectly respectable ones, at that. It just takes Kate a minute to remember them.

"Julia Fruitnugget an' Sunshine Dust, I believe. And no, I ain't yankin' your chain."

Hey now, she's not the one who named them.

She gathers her reins in one hand and, looking out over the lake, emits a loud whistle. The horses nicker quietly, and Duncan pauses to shake his head — which turns into a full body shiver — but nothing else changes.

That is until awkward splashing can be seen all the way out towards the middle of the lake.

"There. They're wavin'."

"Sounds somebody was trippin' on something when they came up with those," he half-laughs.

But then she lets out that whistle. Duncan doesn't seem too startled by it, but at his shudder Tommy keeps a grip on the reins and pats him on the neck to calm him.

He's about to ask what the hell that was for when she points out the activity in the middle of the lake.

And...he gapes for a bit.

Lifts his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose.

Stares.

"Am I supposed to wave back?"

"Well, I know you're no gentleman, what with the bestiality an' not havin' a hat an' all, but it would be polite."

She's kidding.

Probably.

Maybe.

"What did I say? Sweethearts. Y'know, Tommy, for somebody who ducks into burnin' buildin's for a livin', you sure don't have much of a sense of adventure."

He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and turns to her.

"Now, hey."

His sharp tone only sounds more irritated than he actually is.

"First of all, the horse hit on me, okay?"

He barely says that without a laugh.

"And second of all -- a sense of adventure? Listen, burning buildings are more than enough adventure for me. I've already got like a lifetime of adventure under my belt, okay, so anything else I do, whether it's waving to squid--" He pauses and calls out toward the middle of the lake, rippling with slight waves as the squid roll and bob just beneath the surface, "--Hey, out there! How ya doin'!-- or whether it's riding a horse, it's just...I dunno, just a thing that I happen to do, that happens to be different from the things I normally do. Y'know? I mean, I ain't sittin' on this horse right now 'cause I wanted an adventure."

She might not wince at the irritation in his voice, but her shoulders go a little straighter. She turns her head, giving him her attention while he speaks.

"I believe you. I apologize if I've been pokin' too much fun at your expense."

She doesn't sound insincere, though there's a quiet sort of composure to the way she looks and sounds that could be masking an inclination to coddle his ego in shy remorse, or inform him that it's simply too easy and she can hardly be expected to resist. Whichever it is remains a mystery.

"You're sittin' on this horse right now t'prove a point?"

She'd rather he enjoy the 'adventure', but for his company and the laughter replacing this morning's frown, she'll take what she can get.

He deflates a little at the apology and he shakes his head, as it wasn't his intention to get one out of her. But before he can say anything else, he comes up short with words, because her question might as well be a statement. A true one, at that.

"Yeah. Pretty much." He stares at her for a moment, his expression significantly softened, wondering if he'd been such an open book with her that she'd gotten him so quickly. He usually is.

"Also, I'm here 'cause I needed a distraction, 'cause you asked me to come with you, and 'cause I like-- talking to you."

What is this, fuckin' high school?

He blinks rapidly, glancing away for a second with a sigh. "Look, I don't care if you poke fun at me, okay?" he says, turning to her with earnestness. "I honestly, sincerely do not care, 'cause it ain't any worse than what I usually get from other people. And I'm-- I'm sorry if I came off a little strong there, but that's just how I am, how I react. If you really piss me off, believe me, you'll know it, but I doubt I'll ever reach that point with you if all you do is call me a pussy cat."

An open book? Perhaps. Kate's good at reading people, mostly naughty schoolboys; however, with a price on her head it can mean the difference between life or death knowing what makes someone else tick. All right, maybe it's more the naughty schoolboy angle with Tommy. She doesn't have to use too many honed skills when he comes out and makes declarations like that one.

Her smile is bright, toothy in an appealing way. It reaches all the way to her eyes before she turns, chuckling, keeping her focus on the path.

"I ain't gonna lie, I've got a bit of a temper. I've pushed people's buttons before; not gonna say I won't ever push yours. But you don't need t'worry, I ain't about t'run off with my tail between my legs. I like talkin' t'you. It feels — familiar. An' if you come off strong, chances are I'll let you know it."

She defaults apologetic, but she's as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be; no woman can survive doing what she's doing without a strong will.

She glances at him.

"So how 'bout we keep doin' what we're doin', an' if I press a li'l too hard y'let me know before the fireworks start?"

If she's a stubborn mule, then he's a cranky jackass. They'll get along fine.

He smiles a lot easier now, relieved. He's messed up so many times in the past, what with his habit of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person in the wrong way, that any instance where he manages to keep a relationship intact is a personal victory. It doesn't mean that it'll never happen again, but at least he knows where she stands.

"Sounds like a good plan," he agrees with a chuckle.

"...Though I dunno about you, but I like a few fireworks now and then to keep things interesting." He slants a look at her, that same kind he slides her way every chance he gets.

What was that about saying the wrong thing? Oh, right -- there's that little detail where Tommy enjoys pushing buttons, too. They're just different buttons.

Fresh.

She smirks in answer, giving him a slow head shake she figures he's got to be used to by now.

"Yeah. Except they tend t'be literal fireworks with me."

The fact he's shown no particular affinity toward guns is actually a high mark in his favor. She's got enough aching memories in her meat to last a lifetime.

"Y'wanna try a canter before we get back?"

She inclines her chin toward the stables now that they've swung back into view, and bites her lip to rein in her grin.

A smirk and a head shake isn't going to stop Tommy.

"Hey, I'm a fireman," he says, lowering his shades. "Fireworks get too hot, I can always put 'em out."

And then she's got that irresistibly challenging look again, the one that he inevitably finds himself giving in to. Again.

"Sure, why not." How bad can a canter be?

"But -- can we stop for a bit first? I need to get the feeling back in my feet. And my legs. Come to think of it, I can't feel my ass either..."

Edited 2012-07-01 22:42 (UTC)

"Oh, y'get used t'that."

She dismisses him without a hint of laughter or sympathy.

Which, really, should be his first clue that she's messing with him. Eventually, she does chuckle.

"C'mon, then."

She takes Rachat off the beaten path, heading across the grass to a tall tree where they can rest a bit.

He shoots her a skeptical glance and murmurs a wry "Uh huh." Of course she's not going to stop, either.

After successfully guiding Duncan over to follow, Tommy even manages to make him stop when they reach the tree. But now he hesitates -- getting off a horse should be as easy as getting up on one, right?

...He'll wait for Kate to dismount first.

She watches him the whole time, but he's done well enough that she doesn't need to call out instructions. She smirks, and swings off her horse.

Her legs are about as long as his, once you've worked out the difference in height, and strong. This is the sort of thing she does every day.

She leaves Rachat's reins around the saddle horn, and comes around to Duncan's other side. She holds onto the bridle to keep him steady, and reaches for the reins.

"Swing your left leg off. Y'dismount on his right. Jus' one smooth motion."

She'd never say this, but she's also prepared to catch him if things aren't as smooth as they'd like.

"I kno-ow," he insists in a sing-song voice like a petulant child. Because he is one. "And you don't hafta stand there, either, I'll be fine."

Grumble grumble.

But getting his numbed lower half to do what he wants is proving to be more difficult than he expects. He grits his teeth and puts his weight on his right leg, before forcing his left leg up and juuuust about swings it over the saddle. Still holding onto the saddle horn, his left foot finds purchase on the ground, but his right foot's caught in the stirrup and he's left hopping and muttering, "Shit, shit, shit--goddammit--"

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