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

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.

"So I've heard," she says, before turning to smirk at him. "You still owe me skating lessons."

Katherine, naturally, greets the few horses left outside, with cheer and affection, chuckling softly when they crane their necks toward her and twitch their ears.

It's a good deal warmer inside the stables, despite the open concept of the structure, and she relaxes into the comfort of it gratefully. The basket gets placed by the desk, somewhere out of the way, and she picks up the container of sugar and asks Doc where he wants it.

"Just on the desk for now."

The bundle of carrots goes on the desk as well, and then Doc makes his way straight to a certain stall, where Nova peeks his head out the door and exhales quietly in his direction.

"Mornin' to you too," Doc drawls. "Oat breath."

He's merely teasing, of course, giving the horse an affectionate pat and stroking his hands over the sides of his jaw, the coffee having been set down on the desk as well.

"Y'hungry, buddy?"

She doesn't say anything to interrupt the morning's hellos. She remembers how it used to be, back on the ranch, when she'd get up with the dawn and head straight for Beaut's stall. She would spend upwards of twenty minutes sometimes, just greeting her horse, taking the time to commune in that simple way only those who have experienced it can understand. Whole conversations without a single word. Eyes and fingertips and the gentle inhale and exhale their only means of speaking.

She ends up leaning against his desk, hands in her pockets and feet crossed at the ankles, watching him with a serene sort of smile on her face. It's a heartening display, and she begins to picture him like this every morning, patiently and tenderly reacquainting himself with his animal.

It's a simple kind of perfection.

Doc doesn't linger too long with his horse, but there are several long moments and brief, quiet snippets of conversation (people might think it's one sided, but Doc begs to disagree) and his hands on soft hair.

Until Nova starts trying to chew on his hair, of course.

"Alright, alright," he protests. "I'll feed you."

He glances over at her. "I want to feed everyone, first, then we'll figure out who's getting turned out where this morning."

Her smile broadens, though she manages not to laugh at Nova's insistence. It's getting to be about time for Doc to have another haircut...

"Of course," she nods, working the buttons of her long coat open and hanging it on a coat hook, along with her (his) scarf. The gloves stay on.

She's wearing her usual long-sleeved button-down blouse, but instead of a traditional long skirt, she's outfitted in a pair of dark blue Turkish trousers. They fit somewhat like overalls, with a high, flattering waist, and loose legs that gather at the ankles.

She remembers where the stock room is, and, without prompting, heads in that direction to get things prepared.

While she disappears into the stockroom, Doc takes the time to walk the length of the barn, both sides, checking in each stall (though most of the inhabitants are already up and waiting for breakfast) and taking extra care to glance at the mare near the far end. There's an empty stall between her and the nearest horse, as a precaution.

With things in a good sense of order, he turns on a neat bootheel to join her in the feed room, where she's dosing out said breakfast into buckets.

(His coat stays on, for now, at least. It may be warmer in here but he's still not warm.)

"How's the bin looking," he asks, as he lifts two of the buckets in his hands, with a nod at the bin full of the feed store. "If it's getting to be low, I can haul some down from the bar this afternoon."

"It isn't too bad," she says, pausing to look up at him from where she's crouched. Her breath is still sending puffs of steam into the cold air.

"But I imagine it could stand to be freshened up 'fore too much longer. Perhaps in the next few days.

"You still got that pregnant mare?" she asks, throwing the scoops back into the bins when she's done, grabbing two buckets for herself.

"She's gotta hell of a temper this mornin'," he comments, in the affirmative as he leads the way down the aisle and begins to distribute the feed. "Down at the end, there."

Grain first, hay second. It'll take several trips but they'll get it all done soon enough.

"Suppose that's makin' up for you commentin' on her sweet disposition," he drawls. "She goes back and forth, though. Sunny one day..."

Doc shrugs.

"I ain't one to complain, though, she's carryin' a little one she can be as ornery as she pleases."

Katherine chuckles lightly, shaking her head.

"...Thunder clouds and lightning bolts the next?" she finishes his sentence for him. "Women can be mysterious folk, when with child. Even among animal-kind."

When it comes her turn to be fed, Katherine cautiously ducks her head around the corner to peek into the stall, before raising the latch. She's met with a disapproving nicker, and the sound of shifting hooves.

"Hey there, girl," she whispers, voice level and calm. "Uncomfortable, ain't ya? How 'bout some breakfast, hmm?"

It's obvious by the way she's breathing, and the frustrated way she tosses her head, that the mare is in foul spirits, so Katherine is careful not to tempt her luck. She ignores the mare for the most part, humming softly as she fills the trough. She takes her time, not wanting to spook the horse into any kind of negative reaction.

After a moment or two, the mare begins to shift, uncertainly, almost rocking on her heels in indecision, before stepping slowly to the trough beside Katherine.

Katherine doesn't look at her, or make any move to touch her, but softly she begins to murmur to her. Soon, the horse's ears perk, and her body language relaxes, as she begins to feed.

"Atta girl. You just take your time with that."

Doc keeps his distance from the stall, watching the two of them together, arms crossed lightly over his chest and leaning against a wall. He doesn't move - Corella knows he's there, alright - but he's not about to do anything that might spook her when Katherine is in the stall with her.

It's something that makes him smile, thoughtfully.

She's got a hell of a way with horses.

He'll wait until she exits the stall, however, to speak.

When the bucket is empty and the trough is full, air filled with the sounds of contented munching, Katherine chances a glance at the mare as she slowly backs out of the stall.

"Such a good girl," she murmurs sweetly, keeping her eyes on her ears, as they will be her first indicator if the mood suddenly goes sour again. "Y'go on and feed that baby of yours all you can stand. Good mama, you are."

She knows Corella is watching every move she makes, of course, but there's enough cautious trust there for her to keep muzzle in oats, ears perked and legs relaxed.

Katherine quietly swings the stall door shut again, latching it back into place with a few more gentle utterances. When she finally turns away from the mare, her eyes alighting on Doc, she grins.

"She ain't so bad."

"No, she ain't. Normally she lets me right up with her but she just wanted no part of me this mornin', I guess."

Doc smiles at her.

"I'll git the hay, we can turn out a handful of these ladies and gentlemen and then...I think I want to check Nova's shoes."

He moves to a bale that's sitting nearby to cut the strings.

"Teja's supposed to teach me how to shoe," he continues. "I mean, I can shoe but I can't make them myself."

She nods, dusting her gloved hands together before picking up her empty buckets.

"Sometimes they just need some space from menfolk," she smiles, shooting him a teasing wink.

She starts toward the store room to replace her buckets.

"Teja... is he the King who works in the forge occasionally?" she calls over her shoulder, recalling bits from a conversation she had with another patron.

"Yeah," he replies, as he goes about grabbing flakes of sweet hay and moving along the row, slipping in and out of the stalls as he drops the hay into the rack and then moves to the next horse.

Of course, he ends up with flecks in his hair and sticking to his coat, but he's used to that.

"I brought him two saddles, for his mounts, Orion and Bramble," he motions over to a dappled grey and an appaloosa in two stalls beside each other. "In exchange for the tack he's going to teach me to make shoes on my own."

Doc grabs a few more flakes and continues on.

"That's sounds like quite the arrangement," she comments, stepping out of the stockroom and observing him for a moment to see where he's at. She moves to grab a few flakes of hay herself, starting in the opposite stalls, working towards him.

"It would be just another thing for you to add onto your list of accomplishments," she teases, calling out so he can hear her. "Medical school, teacher, poet, stable master, outlaw, ranch hand--"

She meets him, unable to restrain a chuckle as she observes the hay sticking out of his hair and littering his coat. She throws an extra handful at him, for good measure.

"--farrier," she smirks.

The hay floats down his front and sticks to that tan duster, and Doc runs a hand through his hair before he turns and shakes the edge of his coat off. Of course, if this puts him directly in her path...

"S'a pretty long list," he says, looking down at her.

And then he tips his head down.

"Y'wouldn't mind cleanin' up the mess you made, now would you?"

He means the bits of leaf and sweet hay in his hair. In reality, he just wants her closer to him so that he can steal a kiss, but he'll get to that part.

She feels a slight thrill when he steps close, eyes shyly meeting his.

"You're a pretty accomplished man," she murmurs, oh-so-softly.

He's close enough to notice the goosebumps on her neck, as the tiny hairs at her nape stand on end. She's chilled without her coat, feeling the warmth of his body so near.

Her lips twitch in a brief smirk, but she doesn't say anything in response to his request. She only pulls one glove from her hand, slowly, never breaking eye contact with him, and carefully begins to dust off his lapels, before her fingers reach up into his hair.

It's when she's seeking out the bits of sweet hay in his bangs that she eventually breaks eye contact.

"I take pride in that," he admits, as he leans in a little bit closer to press his forehead lightly against hers. Her fingertips are still in his bangs, but one gloved hand of his moves to catch her hand and pull it back to his chest.

"Now, it wouldn't be proper for your employer to thank you for a job well done until it was actually finished," he murmurs. "But I got faith in your work ethic."

Which explains why he does lean in, ever so slowly, and press his lips against hers.

Her eyes are open to him, pupils dilated and eyelids heavy, as he moves in. She lets him kiss her, lashes fluttering softly as her eyes finally close. Her stomach turns flips, and her heart races.

She pulls back first, a little abruptly. It's the first time they've really kissed since he's been back from the gunfight with Garrett, and the trust isn't quite there yet. It's by no means a rejection, of which fact is clearly evidenced by the way she shyly licks her lips, fingers twitching against his chest, and smiles. She moves back in to gently nuzzle his nose.

"This the way you treat all your new hires, Mr. Scurlock?" she murmurs teasingly.

Doc arches a curious, teasing eyebrow. "I ain't in the habit of kissin' the men on my staff. Suppose I'd try somethin' new with a woman on board."

He keeps her close, but not too close.

"Course, wouldn't just go kissin' any woman, now. Ain't my style."

He's a gentleman, of course.

Of course.

There's a bit of a warning in her smiling eyes.

"One would certainly hope not," she murmurs.

She's glad for his warmth, and the closeness of his body. She relaxes into it momentarily, with a slight shiver.

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