tessa thompson . cis woman she/her  •  good morning, deadwood, saul coming through your radios. we’ve got bzzz something interesting today! let’s all say hello to ARIEL HOWARD, where are you listening today, hm? probably the same place you always do. yeah, i know all about you: 31 years old, a deadwood TRANSPLANT, a UNEMPLOYED your favorite song is BURY IT BY CHVRCHES. i’ll play that next, just for you, how’s about that? i’m not meant to show preferential treatment but i feel like i really know you. i know you can be DAUNTLESS and SHARP-WITTED, although folks say you can also be CONFRONTATIONAL and OBSESSIVE. but who are any of us to judge, ARIEL? we all have our bad days. don’t you worry about a thing, let’s get your song rolling early. here it goes, enjoy!

she hadn’t even realized, and now she felt like an ass, she gave them an empathetic smile, spinning the dart in between her fingers and walking closer towards them. “sorry, although, i will gladly put my arm behind my back and make it a fair fight? or we can just say fuck this and play something else?” she offers, knowing that there were quite a few games here they could play, it might have been on her request to keep some legitimate boardgames here due to many years of spending here waiting for her dad to sober up would she corral someone to play something with her. “are you alright though?” she asks, noticing the other wince. “can i get you something?”

-

“It’s fine. I mean I could try it, but the darts would probably end up in someone’s face,” Ariel put the dart back and took a drink of her beer. She still wasn’t completely sure she wanted to stay, but this stranger seemed nice enough, she could stick around, “I’m fine,” Bringing up the cast was stupid, get off it, change the subject, ”Got a pack of cards?” They would have had a wider range of options, and they could do it without putting anyone at any potential risk. 

     mark  was  a  take-out  kind  of  person  —  never  wanting  to  step  foot  in  a  grocery  store  if  they  could  help  it.  however,  this  grocery  store  had  a  fantastic  deli  that  mark  frequented  as  it  wasn’t  too  far  out  of  the  way  from  the  shop.  he  had  just  parked  his  motorcycle  across  the  way  when  he  noticed  the  unfortunate  chain  of  events  unfold  before  him.

     ❝  or  just  trying  to  be  a  friendly  person,  you  know.  ❞  he  challenged  back  as  he  laid  flat  on  the  pavement  to  reach  for  the  cans  under  the  car.  none  of  them  seemed  too  banged  up  to  not  be  used,  at  least.  ❝  which  one’s  yours  ?  ❞  they  asked,  pointing  to  the  surrounding  cars.  ❝  don’t  want  these  suckers  trying  to  escape  you  again.  ❞

-

“You don’t need to--I don’t need help. I’m fine,” Ariel flushed. She didn’t need anyone’s help, particularly not random strangers she had already been rude to. Was this just a small town thing? Insistent helpfulness? If this had happened back home she probably wouldn’t have even gotten a second glance from anyone around her. Was that a thing that should cause a stab of homesickness? Felt like it. Or maybe this was all just embarrassment, tinged with a little guilt for lashing out. 

 And it was apparently too late to talk them out of it apparently, they had already collected the lost cans, “The blue one...” She gestured to the vehicle, the heat in her cheeks and neck only getting worse. Leaving the in tact bag on the ground she shuffled over and opened the trunk on the car, “Thank you... Do you--Can I--Something?” 

“Only if you’re famous,” 3D replies good-naturedly, the woman’s sharp tone and sharper gaze rolling off him like water off a duck’s back as he approaches her, tucking his skateboard under his arm. He hadn’t meant to stare, but he’s prone to bouts of daydreaming, and she just happened to be in his line of sight. “Damn, it looks like Carrie was here - like, after the prom,” he continues, indicating the red splatter that now stains the asphalt between them. There’s not much he can do about the jam - they’ll have to wait for the rain to wash it away - but he can at least try to rescue the cans making their bid for freedom.

Without waiting for any indication that the woman even wants his help, 3D goes to his hands and knees, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he feels beneath the car for the wayward tins. “What did you buy? Runner beans?” He jokes, hoping to take some of the sting out of her predicament. It’s frustrating, sure, but not the end of the world.

-

“If I was Carrie we wouldn’t even be here. I’dve just used my mind powers and put it all away already,” Ariel grumbled. What she would give for that to be the actual case. As she attempted to gather everything up she accidentally put her weight wrong and gritted her teeth. This was humiliating enough without drawing more attention to the situation. 

“Hey you don’t--” She started to protest the help, but the joke actually caused her to let out a huff of laughter in spite of herself. It was just so dumb and cheesy, “Runner beans, right.” The last can had nearly made it to her own car and she pushed herself back up. Goddamn, she could not heal fast enough, “Thank you--I, uh, I got it from here.” 

location: grocery store parking lot

she knew the bag was slipping from her grip, and she knew there was exactly nothing that she could do about it. of course she had already put the cart away, making the hubristic assumption that she could carry everything to the car herself in one trip. stupid. she had tried to adjust the bags in her one good hand, and lost control of one, the rip sounding far too loud as things started falling out and then the bag itself slipped completely. 

“shit--!”

glowering at the mess before feeling someone’s eyes on her and glanced around to see someone looking at her. 

“what? you want a signed fuckin’ picture?” she snapped, giving them a withering glare. hoping they would get the hint and leave her the hell alone, she gingerly crouched to start collecting the fallen items. the bread was fine, mercifully the bag of rice hadn’t broken, and the eggs were in the other bag. unfortunately the same could not say the same for the jar of jam, smashed on the ground, and she couldn’t move fast enough to catch the three cans rolling under nearby car. 

“dammit.”

open !  where: roadhouse bar !

“you know i’ve actually gotten pretty good at darts,” she says holding one up to their face, “so don’t mess with me or i won’t be afraid to use them,” never mind the fact that over the years the darts have been well worn and thrown, their pointed edges have softened over the years unlike it’s patrons. the only real reason why mina was over here was to pay for her dad’s tab. it wasn’t to play darts but she was competitive at heart even if she never showed it. she stands back, closes one eye like her dad taught her to and throws the first one. “i don’t know what we can play for but i have a very strong suspicion i won’t lose.”

“pretty sure you’re right about that one, not exactly gonna be winning tournaments with this, am i?” ariel said wryly and raised her cast, wincing slightly as pain shot through the broken appendage. damn. of all the things she had to rapidly acclimate to recently, being basically unable to use her left arm was one of the most frustrating. She had just been idly fiddling with the darts, considering whether she ought to just leave when she caught the eye of this girl.