OPEN.

[poleaxed]

ill put an img here l8r.

Comments

[ultimatums]

"If you want dancin' you need to go down to a holler when they've got a party goin'. You can clog to your heart's content."

[poleaxed]

Joan puts her head on her palm. “So it’s just your smart mouth romancin’ me?” She lets some of her accent out, mostly because he doesn’t seem to be able to stop with the folksy shit.

[ultimatums]

"I'm tryin'," he says with a little shrug. "So d'you like bein' a mechanic? Or is it just punchin' the clock?"

[poleaxed]

She looks at him with a skeptical expression, trying to get a read on this line of conversation and failing. "Can't imagine me being anything else. I like the work. Not so much the co-workers."

[ultimatums]

"Ain't that always the way," he says, although frankly he likes his coworkers fine, for the most part. "How long you been doin' it?"

[poleaxed]

"Professionally? Since I was sixteen. My Daddy was a mechanic, taught my brother, and he taught me. You got a car you need fixed?"

[ultimatums]

"Might do," he says. "Not now, but I'll keep you in mind if that changes. So it's a family business?"

[poleaxed]

"Nah, we all worked in different shops." She waves the idea aside. "What and you? Are you really a grave digger?"

[ultimatums]

He snorts a laugh, and a moment later decides to swallow the rest of his drink and flag down Lindsey for another. "Deputy US Marshal. So, not a gravedigger."

[poleaxed]

Marshals are classic cowboy shit. She wonders is that's a good thing. "Why'd you lie? This a sting operation?"

[ultimatums]

"Thought it was funny," he says, with a little shrug. "I dug coal when I was nineteen, though. If that counts."

[poleaxed]

Digging coal means he was poor, she suspects, and he's not afraid of hard work. It's attractive, not that she lets that show on her face. "Funny to lie? I see how it is. What's day to day like for a US Marshal?"

[ultimatums]

"Funny to think of myself as a gravedigger." He has a good think about the question, though, frowning into the distance for a moment. "Well, Lexington's a small office, so we share tasks. There's low level shit like prisoner transport, judicial protection, witness protection, that kinda thing. Then there's fugitives, so, y'know, trackin' 'em down. Managing assets is pretty fun," he adds. "That's when the courts seize property durin' a trial and we gotta look after it."

[poleaxed]

"Oh, I know. My oldest brother was a cop. Probably still is." She rolls her shoulder in a casual shrug, her eyes briefly scanning the bar's floor. "His whiskeydick best friend scored a lotta free coke that way."

[ultimatums]

"We're less drugs and more, y'know, houses and horses."

[poleaxed]

He really doesn't fall for any of the shit she says, huh. "So you take the horses for a ride?"

[ultimatums]

"Me? No. Never been much of a horserider."

[poleaxed]

She huffs out a sound that might be a laugh. "So what do you do when you manage assets?"

[ultimatums]

"Mostly just put 'em up for sale if they're forefeited, but sometimes they're held while someone's on trial. Now and then you get to stay in a rich guy's big house for a while. Housesittin', you know."

[poleaxed]

She wasn't expecting this to get her, but it does. She laughs, a short, quick thing; she doesn't want to give him too much of an advantage, let him know she's charmed. "Washing your feet in the sink. Yeah, I can see the appeal."

[ultimatums]

"Mhm, exactly. Only happens once in a blue moon but sometimes we get a real good one."

[poleaxed]

She makes a motion with her hands, encouraging. "So tell me about a real good one, Mister Marshal."

[ultimatums]

"Well..." He puffs out a sigh. "Back when I worked in Miami, there was this fella. Just been caught after a year-long manhunt. He was runnin' a pretty good grift, actually, he started out sellin' contemporary art to rich folks, made up all these artists and blabbed on about the symbology and whatnot, but it was all just shit from his garage. He was involved in other stuff, too, far less savoury stuff, as fellas like that tend to be. But after he got caught, we took the house, held onto it for a while. Beautiful beachfront property."

[poleaxed]

Her eyes briefly unfocus as she pictures it, grinning: a place to spend time, sleep and shower in peace, drink on the beach and laze around. "Sounds pretty fuckin' ideal. You do the manhunt part, too?"

Under the booth, her boots knock against his.

[ultimatums]

"FBI investigates, we apprehend. You ever been to Miami?" He caught that look on her face, not that it was all that subtle, and he'd rather talk about Miami than the job.