____‡_______‡___
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
____‡_______‡___
A keeper's sense of humor? Ruger quirked a brow at that statement, an awkward little chuckle escaping him as his gaze danced from Eve to Polly, and then back again. He wasn't exactly sure what the older woman meant by that, and was grateful when the subject changed so he didn't have to dwell on it or fumble for some quirky response. That slightly uncomfortable grin softened some as Eve chastised him about being sure to ask for help if it turned out he was hurt worse than he thought. "Yes'm, Miss Eve. I ain't got a taste for bleedin'. You'll be the first to know if I get into somethin' I can't handle." He assured her with a little nod. He wasn't the reckless sort, had never seen the point in getting battered up more than duty called for. He had respect for his body, the same as he had for his guns and his knives. It was a weapon, and it didn't sit well with him when it wasn't functioning at it's potential. It was good to know Miss Eve's offer was on the table though...he had a feeling that with the new turn of events with Jarilo's presence, her services might be one day needed. He had every intention of killing that demon, or die trying.
Ruger couldn't help but watch Polly's little group with a touch of awe. The family-like dynamic of the whole thing was so extremely foreign to him, it was rather intriguing to watch their interactions. It was obvious that they were deeply fondly of each other, that time and battle had created ties that surpassed anything genetics could ever cook up. Sealed by a common goal, a mutual mission. Ruger supposed that he had that, of a sort, with Blue...but it wasn't quite the same. When it came down to it, the only voice Ruger was accustomed to hearing when the day was done was his own, echoing in whatever empty room he happened to be staying in at the time. He supposed a part of him wondered what it would be like to be accepted, to be part of something bigger than oneself. Yet he also knew that he would never find a place in something like that...if only because he couldn't fathom having so much responsibility for others. On his own, if he fucked up, the only one who'd pay for the mistake was himself. To allow others into that equation meant risking something bigger than Ruger knew how to give.
"Yeah, well...down south, we don't go stealin' cookies. We wait all polite like, til they're offered." Ruger told her with a little smirk, watching her handle the bag. Her arms were well toned and capable, and Ruger had no doubt to the level of fitness she kept herself in. She was lithe but so obviously strong...a good mix, in his opinion. "No thanks needed. Wouldn't expect you to grabbin' on my cookies without askin' first. Fair I show ya the same." Unsure of what the cookies were beginning to mean in this little analogy, and not wanting to cross any lines, Ruger simply gave her a wink before stalking off to his own side of the truck.
He took the kit when she offered it, nodding his thanks. "I think I can handle a little sting. Just got leveled by a hell critter, couldn't be much worse'n that." Vampires were built like brick houses, but getting hit by Jarilo had felt like taking on a city bus. Part of it had been because it had been a sucker blow, one he hadn't expected, but it didn't change the fact that whatever the demon leech truly was, his power was something Ruger hadn't tangoed with before. Regardless, it wouldn't stop him. He had embarked on this mission to find and take down Kathryn's true killer...though he had never truly believed he would ever be so lucky as to find him again. Now that he knew he was right there in Cascade, nothing would stop the southern male. For better or for worse, he was going to face Jarilo again. If he succeeded, maybe he would be able to find the peace that had eluded him all these years. And if he didn't? Well that was fine too...because in death, he would finally know rest.
His gaze flicked to her as she spoke about her group. "Seems like a group that can handle their own. You're lucky to have 'em. And them, you." He commented, rubbing the blood from his flesh with thorough dedication. He knew if he missed any, he might as well paint a target on his back. "Kid seems pretty fond of ya." Ruger told her with a note of amusement, a teasing little smirk passing his lips before he focused his attention back on his reflection. For fuck's sake, did he ever look like hell. Even with the blood mostly wiped away from his face, dirt and grime from the exploded wall streaked his features. A long, hot shower would be in order after the night's adventures.
Ruger barely noticed her lead foot as the Dodge hurtled through the night. He had a craving for speed himself, and Polly seemed to handle the half ton just fine for his tastes. The hemi could handle whatever she dished out, of that he was sure. With the blood wiped away, Ruger popped open her first aid kit and began to take note of the contents. He was pleased to see a bottle of Liquid Stitch, and figured it would come in handy to the gash on his head. It wasn't overly wide, but he needed to bleeding to stop before they got to their destination. With the way head wounds were prone to bleeding, he doubted he had that much time. He set to work applying the gel, wincing just slightly as it seeped into the gash.
"Don't think there's a woman on this planet who's like your Eve. I like her real fine." He spoke fondly of the nun, having enjoyed her company for the brief moments he had known her. With the Liquid Stitch dried to his scalp, Ruger dabbed on the scent killer. Polly wasn't lying when she said it would sting, and he let loose a couple of colorful curses under his breath. "Oh holy hell...." He grumbled as he looked at the effected area one last time in the mirror. Satisfied, he lifted his shirt again to peer down at his flank. He pulled some gauze from the kit, as well as some medical tape. "A youngin'? Yours?" Ruger asked, glancing at her briefly before applying some of the stitching gel to his wound. When it appeared ready, he steeled himself and rubbed the scent killer there too. He hissed at the pain, but powered through it, knowing it was a necessary evil. When it faded to a dull ache, he began to dress it with the gauze and tape. "Now I know a lot of people don't care for 'em, but pits are good dogs. Protective like. Might be a good choice for a kid." Ruger didn't know a damn thing about children...he had never really been around them enough to know the first thing about caring for one. He had to give Polly credit for it. It seemed like a daunting task.
He worked to replace everything neatly back into the kit before snapping it closed and setting it in the back behind his seat. A slight scowl captured his features as he realized the next thing on his task list was changing, and well...he couldn't help but hesitate. The cab of the truck was dark, save for the dash lights, but it didn't change the fact that he was just a little unnerved about removing clothing in the presence of Polly. For one, the last woman who'd seen him take his clothes off was his fiance. For two, his body was a battleground of scars. Most of them littered his back, so he reckoned he would be safe enough to not have to deal with a look of disgust or questions on their origin. With a resigned grunt, he pushed his shirt up and off, tossing it on the floor between his feet. He then shrugged into the flannel he had dug out of the back, fingers working quickly on the buttons.
He blinked over at her at the mention of dinner. Honestly, as they'd talked, he had just assumed she had bypassed his little quip and wrote it off as a joke. He hadn't really expected her to accept the offer, and now there she was telling him if he managed to keep his sorry hide alive she would accompany him. What had gotten into him, after all? He hadn't asked a woman out since Kathryn had died...and now, without thinking...he had. What did it mean? Was it a date? Oh surely not. Polly had her pick of bachelor's, Ruger was sure of it. And if he started thinking of it like a date, well...he'd get all out of sorts. It would be a friendly dinner between partners...nothing wrong with that. "Reckon I bled enough tonight. Besides, now I got extra incentive to keep on keepin' on." Despite the fact that he was daunted by the idea, a part of him he wasn't about to acknowledge was a bit excited at the prospect. Who wouldn't be, getting to escort a pretty little belle to dinner?
Her mention of a project caught his interest, and he pushed aside the confusing thoughts plaguing his mind. "What kinda project?" His interest was genuine, one brow raised in interest as he looked over at her. He looked a bit better than he had, if a little dirty. At least he didn't look like he'd just been mauled by a pissed off grizzly anymore. His hair hung across his brow, shaggy but no longer clotted with blood and littered with splinters. There would likely be plenty more to take care of once he got back to the hotel and could give himself a decent once-over, but the immediate concerns had been attended to.
He listened intensively as she explained what she would like help with, and he gave a slow nod when she was through. "You got it, woman. I got a knack for handlin' the wild. Could show ya a thing or two about roughin' it in the back country." His expertise was in the swamplands of the south, of course....but he had traveled enough of the north woods in the past 4 years to feel just as at ease in the forests. "Got me some handyman skills too, if you get to needin' em around your new place. Be happy to help ya'll get settled." After the booze had really sunk it's claws into his father, Ruger had been tasked with taking care of a lot of the things around their small farm. He was good with his hands, could build and repair outbuildings with the best of them and knew how to handle livestock. "Sounds like you're finally gettin' them roots you was talkin' about. Don't know if I can call ya 'Tumbleweed' no more." He teased, glancing back at Blue. The dog was curled in the backseat, quietly watching the world whirl by out of his window. Ruger then reached for his cigarettes, quickly lighting one before rolling his window down. "Mighty sorry, but I need my fix." He'd been craving one since the second Jarilo had disappeared...and he had a feeling it would be the first of many he smoked by the time the night was over. "So, where is it that ya'll blew in from?" He inquired, dragging from his cigarette before looking back at her. "Blue and me, we just rolled up over from Lake Tahoe. Spent a few weeks huntin' in the woods out that way."
____‡_______‡___
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
|
Feedback: 
