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We'll do a little frog giggin', cow tippin'
How 'bout a little skinny dippin', bass fishin'
Take it easy on the 'shine
And stay away from other boys' women
That's one damn good way for a
man to get it whooped down here
These boys tough down here
Get your ass tore up down here
And be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came
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Those of the human variety had proved to be of little interest to Ruger since he'd started his self-charged mission years ago. Unless they could prove useful by means of information, Ruger stayed clear of others fervently. There was a certain peace in solitude that he found gratifying, and if there was one thing he cherished, it was his privacy. Relating to others had never been an easy thing for the dark haired male...he had always been a man of little words. This trait had become enhanced in the recent years, and those that knew him often worried over his apparent withdrawal from society. Ruger did not trouble himself with the worries of others, however...he had made a vow, a promise...and he would fulfill it until the moment of dying breath if that was what it took.
Besides, he wasn't utterly alone, after all. His did have a working partner...and what did it matter that said partner was of the canine variety? Ol' Blue had been with him from the start of the whole living nightmare he had embarked on. The pit bull was better at being human than most people, Ruger often reckoned. He preferred the dog's company over just about anyone, and liked that he had a constant, silent witness to his various late-night ramblings. Not to mention, the animal had saved his sorry hide more than a couple of times when push came to shove. That dog had a mean streak a mile wide if Ruger instructed, and whomever was at the receiving side was less than lucky-supernatural or not.
Because of his abhorrence of natural human contact, it was quite a wonder that he would be so inclined to initiate contact with the strangely appealing young newcomer. While he didn't analyze it, he was sure that later, in the quiet of the night, he would play the meeting in his head again and again as he laid in bed, trying to pinpoint exactly what had drawn him. Until then, he simply rolled with the moment...perhaps his subconscious had picked up on something deep with this woman? Who knew.
As she leveled her gaze at him, Ruger found it nearly impossible to draw his away. There was something intensely deep in those pools, and it called to something deep down within him. While he was not skittish of the sensation, it did raise his guard just a few levels, if only because of the sheer unfamiliarity. Her eyes were nothing short of gorgeous, any man would attest to that. Their perfect almond shape and shimmery hue was enough to draw a person deep...it was like watching a storm blowing in on the horizon. Powerful and electrifying. And dangerous, if proper respect was not offered.
Ruger could have easily found himself lost in that moment, if not for the smooth feel of her slender hand wrapping in his. With a shake of her hand, he recovered nearly as quickly as he had lost himself. That was one of his strengths of course...adaptability. It was a skill of any successful hunter. "Well, look at us. Just two tumbleweeds a blowin' in the wind, right on up this mountain." His voice was soft and husky, with just a hint of mystery. "What's your poison? We'll make a toast of it." He raised a hand, waving down the bartender so that she could place her order. Slipping a few more bills onto the surface of the bar, he then lifted the whiskey for another sip. "Pleasure to meet ya, Polly. And real lucky, too...I was beginnin' to feel like a mouse in a barn fulla tom cats. Ain't easy bein' new." He gave her a quick wink, and finished off his drink. He could feel the heat of the whiskey beginning to make it's way into his veins and welcomed it. He scooted his empty glass so that it could be refilled before turning his attention back to the vixen at his side.
He was struck again at how intense she was, even with such soft actions and shifting to look at him. Everything about her gave off that....well, that vibe. And the tone of her voice was equally as mysterious. He did think she was a threat...not to him at least...but again, the idea that she was stronger than she appeared was at the fore of his mind. Her question had his smirk broadening slightly, a low and dry chuckle escaping him. "Well, I reckon you could say I'm here for a bit of both. Just ramblin' through, really. Got me a bit of extra time this evening, so I thought I'd check out the nightlife. Ain't never been much for clubbin', but I got to thinkin' I wouldn't mind checkin' out the local customs. Ain't spent too much time in the North, after all." And wasn't that the truth? His business...well, that was killing. Killing as many of those leeches as he could. And the pleasure part? Well that was obvious. He loved every second of those deaths. It was the only path to happiness as of late, a rare and sweet fruit that Ruger dined upon whenever the chance presented itself. "How 'bout you, peach? Can't imagine you'd come up all the way up here for a bit of sight-seein'. Place seems like its seen it's better days."
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Our side of the barbed wire
Money grows in rows
If it don't you're goin' broke
So we
We hang out by the bonfire
Just the good ol' boys having a dang good time
We crank it up down here
We get loud down her
Throwin' down in the dirty, dirty south down here
Be an all nighter with the hippies and the hicks
Jocks and bikers, they all came to kick it in the sticks
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