#holstering

alice doesn't live here anymore.

he doesn't want to be here. mutt's tone is blunt, his posture unwilling and defensive.

THE GONDOLA ROCKS WITH THE SUDDEN ONCOMING OF A BODY, pitched through the automatic doors at the last second. it surprises dove until she turns to see who it is that's launched themselves through the glass hatch: him. this isn't the first time @holstering's entered a room in her vicinity only to make it tilt; she's seen firsthand how things which aren't bolted down ⸺ furniture, women, best intentions ⸺ slip towards this man. dove, pointedly, stays on the other side of the chairlift: eyeing him from the barrier of a fur collar. her profile is silhouetted against an endless grey sky and falling snow ⸺ a composite of beautiful things too far away to touch.

must be conviction in that skull - the stranger does not have the bearings of a wanderer without purpose. doesn't know the road ahead. can't, or so suggests the timeline of the divide's evolution.

ulysses owes no warning, nor is he under the impression that this man will need one.

she's grateful she has a later shift today, allowing them to remain in bed well into the morning. they would, eventually, need to move. she'd wander into the kitchen and make breakfast soon. but for now, she remains beside him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

" 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 --- 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 . " a moment to rifle through his back pocket's allotted ; god he hopes it's in there . he finds purchase on a crumpled pack of cigarettes , likely stale , but still worth their salt considering the circumstances . another beat goes by , he's patting himself down , thigh to thigh , thigh to breast . a man get's shot , and he can't even light his cigarette to deal with the recovery of the bullet . today sucks . " fuck . "

"do you need a kick in the ass?" that was likely too mean, it's entirely possible raylan was actually offering to help him but he's predisposed not to trust that shit. instead of looking up at raylan and letting him see the annoyance on his face, tim stares at his computer, trying, uselessly, to answer the question of where the fuck is this guy with very limited information.

that's his job and everything, he doesn't need some half feral cowboy to help him do it. probably.

𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 . the truck vibrates with metallic overhang clamor , the framing too thin for a neglected fiberglass carapace that ought to have been retired a decade ago instead of rotting and struggling in the monsoon seasons. yet here it was , the poor thing , ambling with a frustrated rumble as it carries them over the grassy hummocks of here and there vegetation . " i dunno . " yes he does . " you learn . " eruptive clanks from the bed sounds out , scrambling uncomfortably into the front seat with them --- a boulder heugh just misses in the black outside his dim headlights only manage to make somehow murkier , the still cooling say so wrapped in canvas just there behind his eyes . heugh's trying not to see lots of things outside what he can from his windshield tonight . " get tired of everyone else cleaning up after you . "