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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
____‡_______‡___
As Polly went through the list of cheesy pickup lines that Terrence had delivered to her at some point or another, all Ruger could do was stare at her in disbelief. His expression was an unintentionally comical one, the hardened lines of his features smoothed as his jaw hung just the slightest bit slack. One brow remained raised for a few beats after she had finished, before the quiet of the truck's cab was shattered by the deep rumble of Ruger's laugh. It was the first real and true laugh he had had in a long time, and though the sound of it was foreign even to his own ears, he couldn't stop the eruption. Somehow, he could just imagine the quirky teenager delivering those lines to a horrified Polly...actually believing that they might work! That mental image alone was enough to cause another wave of laughter, and for the second time that night Ruger was cast into that youthful, carefree appearance he had briefly displayed at the club. It didn't last long, but for a moment, it was if the obscurity had lifted and the window to who he truly had the potential to be was clear.
After a few boisterous moments, that grumbling laugh tapered off, and his blue gaze settled on her apologetically. "Sorry, sweetheart, but that was some funny material right there." He shook his head, trying to remember himself as a young fella nipping at the heels of the few local females that had caught his eye. "I feel sorry for the kid, really. I mean...no one told him those ain't exactly panty-droppin' lines? Kid'll die a virgin if he keeps that up, all creeper-like." An amused little smirk still rested on his lips as he gave a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. "Not that I myself am an expert. Was a bit too shy 'round the womenfolk to try anythin' so bold...and me, well, I didn't have a whole lot to offer. Most ladyfriends wouldn't think goin' squirrel huntin' is a fine idea of romance, ya know? But as for your pal...I think ya ought to sic Miss Eve on him. Teach him some god-fearin' respect and all that." Her words drew a faintly reminiscent appearance to his grin. "Fly, freebird, fly." He commented, quoting the ever popular Lynyrd song. He gave a little nod to indicate that he fully understood and agreed with that bit of logic. There wasn't a woman alive who'd ever be able to clip his wings after all.
Ruger could see the smile she sent his way following his little soapbox speech he'd given on the subject of the little girl, her pretty features soft in the faint glow as they hurtled through the night. Sometimes silence bridged a gap no word could ever forge, and that was one of those moments. Despite his lack of expertise in the kid area, Ruger felt as if he might have made her feel the slightest bit better about the whole thing...and that made him feel pretty damn fine. He knew he'd never be able to ease away the tension she so obviously felt on the subject completely...but if she could draw a little comfort from something he'd said, he would consider it a win. For a guy with so few social graces, perhaps it was even a big win. It was enough to get him grinning again, at least.
Ruger's attention focused back to the road ahead, the fact that they were losing ground on any logical locations not lost on him, either. It also wasn't beginning to look like they were going totally rural, either...another fact that brought a bit of discomfort to the southern male. He wished that the little showdown was happening a few days after he'd arrived in the city, so that he could be more familiar with the lay of the land. It was a small disadvantage...Ruger had been dropped into a desert thousands of miles away and expected to survive, after all...but a disadvantage nonetheless. If it was just himself he had to worry for, perhaps he wouldn't have been so disconcerted. But Polly's presence reminded him strangely of a night four years ago, when another female in another time had depended on him. He could recall Miss Eve, with her kind wind eyes. He could recall Leroy's scarred but accepting face. Even the kid, disdainful as he'd been towards him. He had promised those people he would have Polly's back. Even more, there was a little girl out there who counted on Polly's return. That, if anything, raised the stakes infinitely for Ruger. He could not fail her.
Lightening lit up the sky in the distance, dancing in blue and purple arcs along the treetops. The electricity in the air was almost tangible, as if he could somehow harness it and bring it close. He could smell the rain as well, but it did not offer the promise of refreshment, as most storms offered. It only seemed to foreshadow whatever they would be soon facing, and Ruger could feel his tension beginning to mount. As a solider, he had been taught that fighting was all about how you react...and that if one were to pay enough attention to their senses, they would find themselves reacting long before it was even necessary. And from there? The sole purpose was neutralizing the threat. By any means necessary.
Ruger gave her his attention as she spoke, his brow slightly furrowed as she inquired of the price his services would cost her. He gnawed internally on her words for a long moment, gaze flicking ahead to the pavement as it whizzed by. When finally it seemed he had come to a suitable response, he peered back at her. The honesty in those blue pools was stark and naked, and there was just a hint of pleading there too. Pleading that she wouldn't press his reasons...wouldn't need to dig too far beyond the crust. That was simply more than he could give her. So instead, he gave her his honesty...and the best answer he could provide without tearing the scabs from old wounds. "That promise you made, back there by that buildin'? The one when you agreed you wouldn't go huntin' on that demon alone? That's all I'm askin', sugar. Is that ya keep your promise." He sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. "I ain't got the words to let ya know why...just know that it's a deeply personal thing for me that you stay safe, now that it knows you exist. I feel like that demon thing knowin' you're around, well, that's a debt. And sugar, I repay. Ya hear?" There was a fervency in his words, as he struggled to convey the importance behind what he needed from her, while keeping a cloak over the chasm of truth. He seemed to relax some then, settling back in his seat, though his intense gaze remained trained on her. "Might be you wanna show an ol' boy a bit of hospitality. Say, let him and his dog do a little campin' out on your land. Them fellas wouldn't cause you no bother, I reckon...bein' used to livin' off the land, they'd hunt their food and do their washin' in the stream. Outta sight, outta mind...'less you need 'em, of course. Til all this comes to pass and that demon lays down in hell where it belongs." He breathed a light sigh, reaching to place his hand fondly on Blue's massive head as the dog laid it between the seats on the console. "Now, I ain't too sure what kinda deals fellas try runnin' with you...and I also know you don't know me worth a lick. But you got my word that I ain't askin' for no more, no less. 'Cause ain't a doubt in my mind we're gonna come through this night on top. And you, woman, are gonna be a fishin' queen." He flashed a half-smirk her way, stroking Blue's ears as the dog soaked up the attention.
Her warning on the smokes had him smirking again as he drew deep. "No worries, sweetheart. I ain't got a whole lot, but what's mine, I protect. Besides...I reckon I'll keep from bein' too much underfoot anyhow, keepin' ya busy in the sticks and all." Not that he would hurt the kid. But if he caught him pilfering his goods, he might be prone to putting a little scare in his britches. Though if the kid got desperate enough to take to the hills in search of Ruger's tent, dealing with weather and critters and the like, hell...he might just give him a smoke for having ones of brass. Her question had him nodding, eying the cherry of his smoke as it glowed ominously in the darkness. "Leeches fit my fancy. Though if it's aggressive and in my way, it's fair game. A woman...a woman like you...I can see how you might not be able to afford to be so picky. Scum is scum, and it has a habit of goin' after the pretty ones." He flicked his cigarette out the window, watching in the side mirror as it exploded into sparks on the pavement behind them.
The change in Polly's demeanor had both Ruger and Blue responding in accordance. The horses rumbled beneath the hood of the Dodge, it's massive engine rising to the demand of Polly's foot. He barely heard the colorful curses as they passed her lips, already reaching to the back of the truck to retrieve her bag. Blue growled lowly, his velvety lips drawn back to reveal long and glistening teeth. The dog was a picture of his breed, all lean muscle and brute strength, rippling beneath a coat of white and brindle. Ruger looked no less dangerous...gone was the boyishly handsome, playful nature he had displayed only moments before. In it's place had settled the hard lines of concentration, and in his eyes, the cold and calculated look of a killer. "And in 25 minutes, they'll be burning in your backyard" Was his husky reply.
His hands were working as she carried on her brief conversations, his attention quite focused on the task at hand. He loaded the 870 and the Colt, before transferring the remaining ammunition from the aluminum box to his pockets. Reaching to the back seat once more, he pulled out a hunting bow...one that looked no different from those used for deer. The arrows that he placed in the case were mahogany wood at the tip, however...sharpened to a cruel point, ready to imbed at high velocity into any unsuspecting vampire's heart. His Mag Light flashlight was shoved into his belt, and a canteen of concentrated garlic was clipped to the other side. Prepared with his own weapons, he unzipped Polly's bag and began to root for treasure.
The squeal for the little girl could be heard even with the torrential rain and clashing thunder squalling all around them. Ruger spared Polly a glance, a muscle in his jaw flexing at the sound of that innocent little voice carrying across the distance. It steeled his resolve, wrapped his promise in iron, and struck home just how vital it was that he did not fail Polly.
That voice was like flipping a switch somewhere deep down within the military male.
He entered The Zone.
The edges of his vision were black as rage rose like bile in the back of his throat. There would be no brash actions with this anger...oh, no...this was a complete different sort than that in which he'd displayed in the club. This rage was the kind he'd felt in the desert, with bullets raining down upon his men, each aimed to take the lives of the brothers he'd fought with. This was the rage that made his kills so successful. This was the rage that was his advantage...the one that honed his skills so sharply that the US Military had given him the credentials of sniper. It was the rage, simply meant death was on the horizon for any that crossed him, so long as he had a breath left in his lungs.
Ruger pulled the first thing from the bag that his fingers closed upon. He didn't take time to be surprised that it was an M 16, a military issue assault rifle that had been so obviously modified that anyone less skilled in weaponry might have wondered at just what it was. Ruger opened the chamber, fingers expertly removing a round to inspect it. The bullets were oddly clear, though there was a dark blue cast to the casing that Ruger automatically realized meant UV modification. He replaced the shell and began loading more into the automatic weapon, listening as Polly spoke. He slid the chamber home, balancing the gun against the door as he reached into the bag again. "Say the word, sweetheart, and consider it done." His voice was a barely restrained growl as he yanked a coil of rope from the bag, along with rock chisels and carabeaners. This he slung around his shoulder in a sling fashion, clipping the carabeaners to his belt. His gaze then flashed up toward her, glittering dangerously in the flicker of lightening.
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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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