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Subject: The social graces


Author:
Polly
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Date Posted: 09/29/13 10:51:02pm
In reply to: Ruger Moss 's message, "/|Redneck Crazy/|" on 09/29/13 9:23:12pm



They say it takes a special kind of person to have a good time while their life is on the line. Polly liked to bury herself in that line. With no memory, no foundation, she often found herself reveling the fight, in the trouble that life threw her.

Trouble rolled off Ruger just as strongly as the scent of leather and whisky. It felt like pops of static electricity that lit down her brain stem and along her spine at his subtle attention. He was a cut above the rest of the bar patrons and before he'd even spoken to her Polly had already judged him as a bystander, albeit a ruggedly handsome one.

When he turned and introduced himself Polly met his blues with her own weighted gaze. It was like a physical thing that moved with the breeze and some people were more off put by it than others. Polly's smile lightened the effect to almost nil as she leaned forward to put her hand in his without hesitance. Sometimes physical touch brought on the same sort of information proximity did, but she'd long grown use to the random shocks of information, the whispers. She was just used to it and it was a part of meeting new people she couldn't control. "Lucky me," she began, "I'm new in town myself and a drink would be lovely, thanks. My name is Polly."

She turned to face him with polite interest, leaning on the edge of the bar. She too had mastered watching someone without looking at them and kept an eye on who came in and out the door while Ruger monopolized the rest of her attention. "So what brings you to town, Ruger? Business or pleasure?" Her tone wasn't flirty or seductive with him, but there was perhaps some mysterious hint of amusement.

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Subject Author Date
/|Kick It In the Sticks|\Ruger Moss09/30/13 8:18:43pm


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