linewalksyouâ:
This little daggerâs a sharp one. Thereâs an impressed lift to his brows when she mentions a baseball bat, but far as he can tell she ainât dragginâ a slugger with her so he reckons heâs not about to get his head swung outta the park this very instant. Maybe next time, though. Heâs got a feeling it ainât hyperbole sheâs speaking.
Itâs quite a standoff theyâve found themselves in. Here Rodeo is, cloudless blue eyes watching for any sign that sheâs aware of what heâs been up to, that she might have a mind to tell somebody what she saw in this warehouse. And there she is, eyes sharp as blades, tellinâ him sheâs here looking for crows.
Neither of âem are showing their hand. And if it wasnât for whatâs at stake, Rodeo would kinda be enjoying himself right about now.
But this ainât a game, and this little dagger might bleed him out if he lets her. Before they leave here, heâs gotta be sure she donât know what he was doing at the top of the ladder. He carries on leaning against it, painting the perfect picture of lassitude even as he watches her reach a hand into her backpack with tension coiling at the base of his spine. Is she about to draw on him? With how his dayâs been goinâ, it seems about par for the course. Heâs waiting to see cold steel gleam in her hand as it comes out, but⌠itâs just a damn pack of cigarettes.
Shit. Paranoia is really getting the best of him these days.
It ainât like heâs got his Luckies right now, and a subpar cigarette is a subpar cigarette. So he nods in wordless assent and reaches out, pinching one of the cigarettes from her pack. He slips his old gold Zippo from his flannel pocket, thumb flicking the wheel to spark the flame. He holds it out to her so she can light her smoke first before he lights his own.
âA textbook? You sayinâ Iâm fit to print?â he smirks, as if she meant it as a compliment. âNâI wouldnât be so blasĂŠ if I was you. Heard tell when this place was open, men would fall into the vats of molten steel and burn up like goddamn Terminator 2. And granted, that does sound metal as fuck, but Iâd wager thatâs a recipe for a Grade A Vengeful Ghost.â Rodeo pauses to bring the flame to his own cigarette, lighting it up and sucking in a deep breath of smoke. His rough mahogany drawl continues on a smoky exhale. âYou some kinda ornithologist, darlinâ Dagger? What business you got with the crows?â
..
Typically, she doesnât smoke, but heâs being a gentleman about things so she indulges, leaning in to light a cigarette. âIâm saying you remind me of school,â she clarifies with ease. Or at least..the bits she was there for. Maite shrugs. âSounds about right..men being vengeful just âcause they canât keep their own fuckinâ balance.â Perhaps her views arenât entirely fair, but the thought of lingering in a world you no longer are part of because youâre mad you tripped..isnât a brilliant light. Add to it the fact that over the years, someone elseâs anger almost always sparked alarm bells in her mind.
It also speaks to how little schooling she actually paid attention to on the occasions she was in a classroom. She doesnât know the conditions factory workers labored under, especially in the first part of the century.
Darlin dagger gets him an eye roll and a smoke ring for his trouble, but itâs better than lil mama. âI mean..they printed textbooks, didnât they? Been called a lot of things but ornithologist is sure a fuckinâ first,â she answers, opting for another drag on her cigarette. Maybe she did pay attention in a classroom because context clues are the only reason she can guess at what it means. who talks like that? she wondered.Â
âCrows are smart. You can tell a lot about where they live if you get to know them...They like shiny things, you know,â Maite adds, almost thoughtfully. Her cuervitos were the same way. She left offerings that they liked, they left little things they thought she might like. But he didnât need to know that, if he didnât already. Members of Valencia didnât need to know that she cultivated a network of eyes around the city if they didnât already. Admittedly, if it was seen as a threat, they likely would have dealt with her by now. Turning to look up, she searched the depths of his eyes as if they would reveal something he didnât want. Thereâs no helping the question that falls from her lips: âIf youâre so afraid of ghosts, cowboy, why are you in here by yourself? Lose a game of truth or dare?â

















