ultraviolent heart

"Since you were raised here, maybe you can offer some insight as to why a lot of people are so closed-minded to something new?" It was one thing if they at least considered the opportunities that were now being presented wit the arrival of Wang Corp. Jade could hardly get a word out when it came to some people without some type of phrasing for her to go back to Seattle shot out of some mouths. "Hmm...I own a few horses, but they're back in Nevada. My favorite color are variances of green spectrum. You?"

Glancing to her, he answered her question with a question, "How many people you meet that truly want to change their life? How many people you meet that like to change?" Shifting and playing out a domino something of halfhearted, because he was now more interested in the conversation than the game, he went on, "You're threatening not just their way of life, but their whole identity. These people live here, not because they want to live in a city, because they don't want to." Rhett almost chuckled at that, shaking his head. This town was straight out of a country song. "Might suggest, if you want to know these folks... live their lives for a few weeks, do what they do for hobbies, go to their church, take a shift at the feedlot or the processing plant."

As the subject changed, he nodded. "What kind of horses?" Liv's friend had a handful of them and he overheard her talking about them in ways he almost didn't understand. "I don't have a favorite color. I recently built a duck coop for my girlfriend to raise ducks. I have two dogs, both of which are assholes, but Liv's turned one into a pillow pet. She got him a unicorn blanket he curls up into now," Rhett said with a roll of his eyes and small smile.

"More of the latter rather than the former," Liv said. A lot changed and a lot would continue to change intermittently. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing as Rhett tried to think through all of this. She already felt exhausted because it wasn't easy to explain and she was a nurse. If anyone should be able to explain it clearly and concisely it should be her, but that was the thing. Multiple Sclerosis wasn't like some disorders -- the research was slim. "It's not like cancer. It's an autoimmune disorder, so my immune system is attacking my nervous system. I could lose my mobility, struggle with talking, my memory. I'll grow old just like anyone else, but I'll always have attacks and triggers to monitor and I could still wind up developing secondary progressive MS, which is what they say when your attacks get worse and don't improve," she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Some people started to develop these issues within fifteen years of their first diagnosis if their treatments weren't effective.

Rhett's words were comforting, but they were words she wished he didn't have to say at all. She just wanted to be with him and to not feel like he was surrounded by her shrapnel. "Maybe just for fun one day, I'll get a bald cap for you to buff," she shook her head, her voice sounded half-hearted to her own ears. Fifteen years wasn't that much time and she wanted decades more than that. She wanted forever with him. "I'm sorry. I feel like ever since the beginning of us you've had to just dodge whatever crap is being thrown at me. The accident, my brother, my mother, and now this."

"We'll cross that when we get to it," Rhett said. He could already imagine the cat level of clawing she'd do to him if he tried to carry her anywhere if she was having mobility issues. The hardhead would fight him every step of the way, and part of that thought made him slightly smile. "We'll do what we can to make it more manageable, and we'll manage it until the next thing comes." He nodded, it was the best plan they could have right now.

As she apologized, he looked to her for a long moment. "Baby, a lot of life is just one hit after another. I've known that for almost all my life. After a while, you get good at taking it in stride, and what most would call an easy life doesn't mean much, not to me. I could think of nothing worse than just... a simple life. And nothing that you've gone through has felt bad to me. It's just life, and things would come either way, so the timing of them in proximity to us doesn't mean anything." There was the part of him, the part that stuck when he was drug to church, that stuck on the concept that he was being prepared for something.

For a boy who was thrown into this, and thrown into that, he was trying as a man to make his life worth something that he wouldn't hate to look at. He never hated looking at her, he was convinced that all this shit was working in their favor, that she was the one that was painstakingly crafted just for him and him just for her. He wasn't scared to look at his life these days, he was a man composed of gunsmoke and ghosts, and in these moments it all made sense. Moving closer to her, he cupped the side of her head and kissed her temple. "I want you, and none of this feels like dodging." When you wanted what he considered to be the best woman there was, there were always a price to pay, and he'd pay it without a question. It was just what it took. God knew, she paid her price with him and his weird fucking bullshit every day, too.

"So, as you can see, the kids who decided to party out here got a little too crazy," Kit said, gesturing up toward the hole in the floor of the barn above them. "Boss says we need it fixed, and unfortunately, my skills top out around the fixin' a fence or a railing level. This kind of thing is well above my pay grade, so I'm happy to pass the work off to your guys if you think you can get it handled." Kit leaned down and picked up a piece of wood from the floor, offering it to Rhett with a small smirk. "I got you this," he joked. "Thought it'd really bring out your eyes."

— END.

He watched as the food truck owner prepared their food. He actually hadn't realised how hungry he was until now, and it seemed like Rhett was paying, which made it a plus. "Did you go to college, Uncle Rhett?" he asked. "I guess I never asked you before, but how did you get out, from our family? You've got like... everything I might want some day. You seem to have your shit together."

Handing over a papusa to Felix, he grabbed a couple of sauces, he didn't like his shit dry. Glancing to him, Rhett shook his head. "I went to the military. Tabbed US Rangers, did about a contract with them before I was picked up for another regiment in the army," he said, ghosting over his work there. He still didn't like to talk about being in the Unit. Most of it was classified, and most of it should've haunted him more. He something of laughed at Felix when he said he seemed to have his shit together. "I didn't have an option for anything else, bud," Rhett shook his head again. "Knew I didn't want to be like the rest of my family, in jail or strung out or leaching off the system because I was terrified of failing." A pause. "Then when you do what I did for the government, not having your shit together means you could end up dead, or your unit could end up dead. Sometimes you have to radically accept where you're at, what's on your plate, and own every aspect of it."

Something was off about the events in town, even Shaun could smell the rising tensions. He saw big names mentioned, and while still scrambling to put the puzzle pieces together, it was impossible for him to just continue minding his business when that was the talk of the town, affecting everyone. The protest taking place Downtown was turning louder than most protests Shaun ever really saw take part, and there was a lot of anxiety and unsettleness involved as he was taking to his drink at the Silver Dollar Saloon - somewhat of a comfort place for him, as no one really bothered him there. The drinks were good, the women pretty, and yet... today seemed different. Before he really managed to turn around as he heard the chatter turn to shouting and chanting, a loud bang and then glass shattering caused him to duck on instinct. And then it happened again, and people started getting up from their seats, the scene turning into chaos in mere seconds.

When the text came through, Rhett knew where he was and he knew what was going to happen. He'd been in shit like this before. Granted, they were usually third world countries, and not where he lived but here it was. All the signs were there. Fifteen minutes was a long time to wait for help. There was a settling in his stomach, the feeling he got when he had to go into a warzone. Walking back to his truck, he removed his pistol from his glovebox and moved it into his shoulder holster, under his light jacket, no one would know it was there, but he felt the comfort of having a weapon that he was more than well equipped to use.

He took a back way into Downtown, already seeing crowds and knowing better than to contend with them. He knew the back way to the bar well enough, a tipped hat to his former alcoholism, and parked in the back. Puff was whining in the seat next to him, and he looked to the dog. They were birds of a feather, their old instincts and habits coming to the forefront, her eyes trained on him and he queued her closer to him as they left the truck and went in through the back door.

As the door slammed, his eyes focused on the last of the guys standing and trying to get a chair, Shaun was mostly in one piece, the posture of a man who knew how to fight, who knew how to be dangerous, waiting for the next strike. "Bad idea," Rhett said to the man, who looked over his shoulder and recognized him. His hands went up. "Get the fuck out the bar," Rhett nodded. He flicked the lock on the back door and followed him out, and locked the door behind him. He glanced to the bartender girl who called him to pick up guys and gave her a nod before turning back to Shaun. "Help me get this idiots out the back door, and then we need to go." Puff was tense beside him.

"fine! i'll go ahead 'n say what y'all are thinkin' , how 'bout?" the whiskey helps, though rosie handled her straight spirit like a shot. the woman cannot be blamed; her knees are still brown from the rubble, ash rubbed into her temple, set with sweat. the reek of smoke sticks to her. her help with the fallout from the center is seen, smelled and heard. the remaining ice-cubes clink the glass as she tosses it around, exaggerated hands while she rants to the nearest ears. "these kids'a gonna keep throwin' their stones unless," they get their money back? no. "someone puts 'em in their place. what're y'all waitin' for? the riot to creep up on our backyards, reach our homes? who's gonna man-up 'n put a stop to this? my girls deserve a safe place to rest their head at night, don't they?"

He was kind of a big football guy. All American on his football team in Georgia, they won state three of the years he was there-- he was what they called a big fish in a small pond. Hell, the Richmond boy even got a scholarship to play at the University of Georgia, and then ultimately he turned into a small fish in a big pond and it quickly fizzled, that didn't change his love of the game. Caught up watching a summer practice, they day moved as it did, and the event changed. While a normal person might of left he stayed to see what it was, mostly because he was decompressing, most of his days these days was trying to get rid of stress, and when it turned into a thing about lightning bugs he couldn't help but smile. "You know-" He said with a shit eating grin on his face, "when we were kids, we used to pull the heads off 'em and kinda well--" he paused with a shrug, "rub the guts on our arms? Then we got to glow in the dark too."