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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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Ruger gave a dry snort at her words, casting a cynical eye her way. "Guess you could say I've taken my fair share of sucker punches." He admitted vaguely, though it was clear he wasn't going to disclose the details of those various occurrences. When in a drunken rage, Ruger's father had been wild, unpredictable. And while as a child he had tried to keep from underfoot, sometimes it just wasn't enough. The glancing blows never came at a time when he expected them. He had been too smart to stick around when it was obviously bad at home. It was the times when things seemed good that the attacks came as a surprise. A tingle ran the course of his spine as he remembered, as if the scar tissue that wrapped across his flesh was reawakening to the pain of those days. A soured look passed over his face before he shoved the memories away. Now was not the time, nor the place, to fall victim to flashbacks.
Ruger couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him at the obvious exasperation she felt at the teenager's infatuation. It wasn't that he found the situation particularly funny, of course...but because she looked cuter than she probably realized ranting about the unrequited feelings of her group mate. He let her say her piece, let her work verbally through her frustration...simply peering at her in the dimness as she spoke. When she finished, he brushed a hand through his shaggy hair, giving a little shake of his head. "Seems to me you just ain't handlin' it right, is all. See, a teenage boy is a teenage boy. He's gonna feel what he feels. Hormones and all that. Best you can do is lay it straight. Don't coddle his feelings. Gives too much room for false hope." Ruger gave her a little smirk. "Teenage boys don't handle rejection all too well...and this is comin' from a former teenage boy who had his fair share of rejection. Always easier if it's laid straight, though. Bitter medicine is best took quick, so they say." He shrugged, a playful look casting to his blue gaze. "And if that don't work...well...handle him like a puppy. Give him a swat on the nose every now and again when he gets to actin' up." At the thought of that, Ruger nearly chuckled. He felt sorta bad for the kid, though. He knew damn well what it was like to be infatuated with someone you couldn't have. Further, it had to be hard as hell for the kid to spend so much time around Polly and not feel something for her. Hormones were crazy cocktails.
Ruger nodded as she talked about the pitbull history, having heard something similar in the past. "Apparently they can handle rough handlin' from leeches, too. Blue likes to subdue...gets more excited about wrappin' them jaws around a vampire's ankle than he does for Beggin' Strips." He cast a fond look back at the dog, whose head was cocked at the mention of one of his favorite treats. "You're right, ain't no promise you'll end up with a sharp one. But I think most of it's in the trainin'. Dogs wanna learn. Just gotta make sure the person teachin' knows a thing or two. I'd be willin' to lay the foundation for ya, if ya decide. Didn't take too long to get Blue on the right track after all." Ruger had worked with the dog daily, and Blue had been an eager pupil. By the time they'd entered their first hunt together, Ruger had not been the slightest bit doubtful of the canine's capabilities. And he hadn't been disappointed.
Ruger watched the discomfort cloud her pretty features, and briefly wondered if he had crossed some like in his question. Hell, it almost look as if answering him would be a painful experience for Polly, and that had not been his intention at all. He was so socially inept, he hadn't stopped to think about if asking about the girl might be off limits. His lips parted as he was about to tell her just that, when she began to speak. He listened with rapt attentiveness as she explained the origin of Jewels, of the things she had gone through to keep the girl safe. Despite only having known her for a short while, Ruger couldn't suppress the respect he felt for her and everything she had done. It took a special kind of person to take on a responsibility with the kind of weight a child required...especially went said child would be sure to draw future attacks. Whatever injustice the child had been served, Ruger knew that she did have one thing going for her. She had Polly, someone who cared enough to risk everything to ensure her care and safety. And while Ruger didn't know a thing about kids, he did know that every child deserved at least that much.
How many times as a child had he stared up at the stars, praying for a savior to come along and take him away from the hell he'd been born into? Countless times, likely...until he reached adolescence and that innocent faith and hope was beaten right out of him. It was hard for Ruger to believe that a God existed...and if one did, he wasn't sure he would want to encounter a being that could be so merciless against a child. Polly's story only served to reinforce that notion.
He didn't answer right away, seeming to deliberate on her words very deeply. When he finally did look at her again, his blue eyes were soft. Respectful. And uncharacteristically gentle. "You know what? Ain't a person on the planet that can be everythin' a kid needs. Ain't nobody perfect." He paused, as if collecting himself, before continuing. "I ain't got any youngin's of my own, but I was a youngin' myself once. A youngin' who didn't have care from nobody and didn't get no childhood to speak of. I know all the things a kid don't need, because I experienced that much. Now I can't tell you all the right ways to raise that little one, but I can tell you this." He shifted in his seat just a little so he could face her more fully, his rugged features cast in the soft green glow of the dash. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sugar. It ain't your job to to show that lil' girl perfection. It's your job to show her what's real, so she knows what life is all about when she's grown. And seems to me, you're doin' just that. You're providin' for her and you're protectin' her. That's more than she'd have had any other way. So lift that burden a lil' bit off yourself...ain't no reason for it. 'Sides...all a body can do is their best, right? Long as you're doin' that, you're alright." A poet he was not, but the sentiment was there, anyway.
Ruger had never desired children. A special kind of insanity ran in his family, one that was prone to fueling up on barley and hops before unleashing. He had vowed young that he would never create a being that had any risk of receiving that hazardous cocktail of genes. And when he had met Kathryn, that had been his one and only request. He had told her that he wanted to marry her, but that he refused to produce children. If they were something she felt she would need one day, he would have had to let her go. She had said their love was enough, that she wouldn't need to create life to give her own life meaning. He had been grateful for that, and even more so that she hadn't pressed him for answers as to why. He hadn't wanted to share the grisly details behind his decision. Hadn't wanted to share his fear that despite how hard he worked to be his father's opposite in every way, he would end up just like him in the end. And for Ruger, that was a fate worse than death itself. He would rather lunch a bullet than ever fall into the pattern his father had laid out for him.
Ruger's gaze shifted to the window as she spoke, watching the town roll by and trees become more abundant. If the vampires were headed to the woodlands, all the better in Ruger's mind. At least then they would be on neutral turf, and he and Polly might have the advantage of his skills in the woods to gain an upper hand. Trees would provide cover, and at this time of year, the beds of pine needles on the forest floor would soften their footfalls. And despite the darkness, Ruger was confident that he would be able to scout quickly enough to be fairly confident about the layout of the land and how to use it to their advantage.
"A little compound, yeah? That's what you're hopin' for? Good on ya. You can give the girl the roots she needs and still have a place to lay your head that's yours." It sounded like Polly had it all figured out, and with the proper renovations and preparations, it was likely she'd be able to provide a safe harbor for herself and her little group. While Ruger had never felt the calling to settle in any given place, he did admire he ability to carve a spot for herself in life. When she admitted to having never used a fishing pole, he shot her a little grin. "Well lucky you, havin' a roughneck at your beck n' call then. I'll show ya how to bait 'n cast, which ones are good for eatin', and how to clean 'em. Can show ya a thing or two about huntin' as well. Best to be armed whenever your out in forests like these...never know what you might find. Bears and cougars and the like. But it's just all the law of the woods, ya know? You respect nature, she'll respect ya back. And she'll feed ya fine, too. Ain't nothin better than a nice slab of venison fryin' in your pan, with some homegrown onions and mushrooms on the side." Ruger wasn't particular about the game he hunted. If it was edible, he took it down. He was far from a trophy hunter...had never seen the point in that. If he shot it, he ate it. Period. "Probably best to know how to throw together camp right quick too. Weather in the mountains has a habit of changin' on a flip. Get caught out in the elements without knowin' how to protect yourself...well, that ain't a situation you want to be in." Ruger himself had spent some frozen nights in the wild, with only his skills to pull him through.
When she admitted to having been in Washington recently, he quirked a brow. "We probably was huntin' the same territory for a while there. Spent some time there in the spring myself. Didn't find what I was lookin' for, but the huntin' was good." And of course he hadn't found what he'd been searching for...it had been in Cascade all along. He had managed to bring down 5 leeches during his stay though, so the trip had not been a total loss. "Countryside's good for people lookin' for anonymity. No one pokin' their nose 'round your business." And the lack of people wasn't so bad, either. As a general rule, Ruger was not fond of the general population, and thus avoided them. Other people were just too complicated for him to find trust in. Such was the reason it was so surprising that he was able to find it so easily with Polly. But then, when you'd face a demon with someone....perspectives tend to shift a little.
Her request drew a little smirk from him, and he removed another from his pack. He placed it to his lips, cradling his own between his index and middle finger as he lit it for her. Inhaling a puff to make sure it was good and ready, he handed the tobacco to her, expelling smoke in a short puff. "There you be, woman." He told her, setting the pack and the lighter in the cup holder between them so that they'd both have easy access. "Bad habit, but I figure we all got 'em. And fact is, I like smokin' just too much to give it up. Dangerous, they say...but I hunt vampires for a livin'. I don't wanna hear about no danger." He took another drag, looking back out of his window. "I'm hopin' they decide to head for the hills. Think we'll be at an advantage then. Plenty of cover." He commented before glancing back over at her. "Wasn't expectin' to come across another hunter. Ain't come across one in a long, long time. Reckon you're the first female one I ever met." That half-smirk returned as he ashed out of the window. "Pretty badass, I'll admit. But I gotta warn ya...this teamwork stuff ain't really on my resume. So gimme a kick if I step outta line, ya hear? I'm kinda wingin' it, after all."
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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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