ikissdhimbck | OOM sorta: Rooms, back door, stables, in the morning.

"You complain 'bout the horses gettin' fat and about me gettin' skinny," he teases, before he taps lightly on the bartop. "Help me out here, darlin'?"

Bar provides two pieces of toast, two pieces of bacon, and two eggs.

And jam, for the toast.

"Thank you."

And then he glances to Katherine, to see if she approves.

"That's because you take better care of them horses than you do yourself!" she points out, blue eyes piercing. There's a smile on her lips.

Obviously approving of the breakfast, she nods her head.

"Thank you, Miss Bar," she says, though her eyes are on Doc. "I'd be worried for him if you weren't keepin' such good care."

On the Bar, next to Doc's breakfast, there suddenly appears a plate of hot buttered grits and a sausage patty, along with a small bowl of fresh strawberries. A hot tea sends a curl of steam into the air beside them.

'Don't think you're getting off that easy,' says the accompanying napkin.

Doc ducks his head as his eyes catch the note.

He smirks. He does not laugh.

But he sure looks awfully smug.

"Thank you, Lady Bar," Doc replies, parroting the words back, though his eyes are on Katherine. "I'd be worried for her...well hell, I'd be worried for her regardless, but I never doubted you one second."

And then he starts in on his bacon.

"I take better care of them horses 'cause that's my purpose," he continues, quietly. "I owe it them to treat them right."

Her cheeks are flushed, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. She's focused on that smug look on Doc's face, her eyes two burning embers. She'd pinch him, if she weren't such a proper lady and all.

"You two don't play fair. Ain't very nice, teasing a lady," she mumbles, turning to face her breakfast as she yanks off her gloves and tucks them into her coat.

Her face is still rather thin, and it will be nothing short of a miracle if she eats all that food, but she's at least not averse to trying.

"You aren't gonna be doing them any service if you keel over while you're out there working, or give yourself a fever," she persists, but her eyes are soft when she turns to look at him again. Her voice is quiet.

"But I'd wager that ain't your only purpose."

Doc pauses and considers her words.

"No, no it ain't. But...it's what I do. Take care of my charges. Be it the stock here, or the boys back home..."

Except there ain't any of your boys left.

He shrugs a little. "Guess it's part of the learnin' I had for doctorin' and all. Helpin' folk. Takin' care of them first."

She sighs softly, her expression a mixture of impressed upon pride, and gentle concern.

"Wouldn't be so bad if'n you took care of yourself second," she murmurs, voice soft. "But you just haul off and move onto the next person.

"Who looks out for you, Doc?"

"I git round to it eventually. Or the boys would look out for me."

Except there ain't any of your boys left.

Doc glances over at her.

"I'm doin' better."

"Better than what?" she prompts gently, the wheels in her own head turning after he mentions the boys twice, pausing each time.

Her eyes are cautiously searching him out, but she isn't sure whether she should say anything or not.

"I'm sure he's okay," she finds herself murmuring, much to her own surprise. She elaborates:

"Billy, I mean. Chavez, too. And... Dave, and Henry."

It might only sound like empty reassurance, but she has to at least try, as someone who wants to look out for him, too.

"I just wish I knew where they were headed. I know where Billy is, but not knowin' about the rest of them worries me to hell and back."

The admission startles even Doc, but he blames the early hour and the lack of coffee. He looks at her. "I'm sure they're fine."

And then has another drink of coffee.

"They've come through worse," she points out, hoping the words are true.

She shifts her grits around her plate with her fork, not quite knowing what else to say.

(While her other hand quietly seeks under the Bar for his.)

Doc accepts the hand when she reaches for his, and drinks more of his coffee as he nods. "We're stubborn," he teases gently.

Hard to kill.

He is going to make certain she eats, though.

She laces her fingers together with his, and allows the interlocked hands to rest at his thigh while she picks at her breakfast.

His words make the corner of her mouth twitch in a lopsided grin.

"To, perhaps, put things lightly," she teases back. She inclines her chin to his plate.

"Eat your eggs, 'fore they get cold," she instructs, taking a solid bite of her grits so he can't say anything in return.

There's a smug little smirk on her lips as she chews.

Doc stabs the eggs with a corner of the toast, using the bread to soak up the insides and she's lucky that he knows how to eat left handed. Then again, he can shoot left handed, too.

Eventually he's cleared his plate and finished his coffee.

"What's the weather lookin' like today, Bar?"

She gives him a general report. No rain, but cool with a bit of breeze.

He could have always let go of her hand to eat, had he needed to.

Her plate isn't clean by the time she has finished eating, but she has made a small dent in her food.

She eyes Doc curiously after the report has been given.

"She can predict the weather, as well?"

"Well, just right now. Who knows what it will be in five minutes."

But letting go of her hand would mean...letting go of her hand.

And he has no urge to do that.

Doc gets himself another cup of coffee, and tips the corresponding shot of milk in before he stirs it with the little straw. He's planning on letting her eat a bit more first.

"Still rather impressive, for a Bar confined to the indoors," she compliments, her free hand running slowly and tenderly along Bar's smooth top.

':D!'

There is a cookie accompanying the napkin.

Katherine smirks, accepting that as a sign of appreciation.

Her tea is almost gone when he orders his fresh cup of coffee, and she debates it for a moment, wondering if she should get another for herself.

"When you thinkin' on heading out?" she asks, thumb running over his knuckles.

"Whenever you're done. Bar can put this in a Styrofoam cup. Same with your tea, if you get it filled up."

Doc smiles a little when her thumb grazes his knuckles. It's affection.

He likes that feeling. Especially coming from her.

It comes so naturally it almost scares her.

"I'm ready now," she nods, eager to get to work.

"Alright then."

The mug of coffee disappears and is replaced by a Styrofoam cup with lid. Doc releases her hand (reluctantly) to pull on his gloves and then pick up his coffee and the bundles of carrots.

"Can you git the sugarcubes?"

She's already two steps ahead of him.

Her own gloves are back on her hands, the Tupperware full of sugar pulled close to her body as she leans over Bar.

"Miss Bar? Might I bother you for a packed lunch? Perhaps--"

Before she can finish her sentence, a good-sized basket pops up with cold beef sandwiches and potato salad, pickled okra and fried squash flowers. Katherine smiles.

"Thank you."

She gathers the sugar into the basket and slings it all over one arm. "Ready."

She has seen him come in late from working before, not having stopped for a meal for quite some hours. She doesn't plan on letting that happen today.

Doc arches a curious eyebrow at the basket and the lunch. She's noticed the fact that he'll stay outside all morning and into late afternoon without eating.

"And a couple'a pieces of jerky," he adds, and then he tucks the brown paper wrapping into his coat pocket as he inclines his head towards the back door.

He has another sip of his coffee and adjusts his scarf as they head out. It's not all that cold, but still early. The sun hasn't come up yet, but the light to the 'east' is already starting to tint the sky.

She merely grins at him, following his lead out the back door.

The grass on either side of the trail leading to the stables is dusted with frost, looking like freezer-burned vegetables in the still wan light. The basket is balanced on her hip, so she can keep her arms tucked close to her body to conserve warmth. It certainly isn't frigid, but it's pretty chilly for someone not used to the colder weather.

She hunches her delicate shoulders just slightly, so the edge of his scarf comes up around her ears, and watches the steam from her exhalation curl into the air.

Doc's glad that she kept the scarf - and is wearing it - and that he has several more of his own. His is wrapped up around his neck, but his ears are covered by his hair, and his beard helps keep his face warm too.

"Bout what it feels like in Liberty, right now," he comments, idly, as they walk along the path. The carrots are tucked under one arm and his coffee is in his other hand, otherwise they'd be stuffed into his pockets. "Cept it's snowin' already out there."

"That so?" she asks, turning to him with genuine interest. She shakes her head as she looks around the misty morning.

"It don't get near so cold in Green Lake, this time of year. Maybe come the middle of January, when the weather's at it's coldest, we'll get a real hard frost. But I'm not used to this."

There's something serene about it, though. The utter stillness of the landscape around them, that thin fog laying like a blanket over the sleepy earth. The air is cold and fresh, and leaves a slight burn in her lungs as she inhales. And it's so, so quiet, there aren't any sounds, save for the crunch of their boots as they mosey along, and the occasional caw of a bird or hum of an insect.

"Sure pretty, though," she murmurs.

"It's mid February," he says. "It's cold as hell, right now."

Not that hell is all that cold.

"Wait until it snows. It's...better than any Christmas paintin' you've ever seen before. It falls pretty thick, blankets everything. Lake'll freeze over pretty solid, too."

As they near the stables, there are a few horses that are milling about the paddock, but most everyone is inside, warm and content.

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