𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ his only goal was to get her out of the bar and into the damn truck. perhaps in hindsight he could've come up with a better way to go about it. IN THE MOMENT, HOWEVER ... carrying her with both arms kicking and flailing sure seemed like the only way. something or other about going out the same way one was born into this world. that sounded a whole helluva lot like his wife. once out into the cool, brisk night air, a ways down from the bar entrance where he'd parked the truck— rip sets her down. but he doesn't let his guard down. he remains vigilant. half of the cowboy expects beth to flee at the first sign of escape. hell, rip doesn't even know what was said to her, and he doesn't need to either. whatever it was, HE KNOWS IT WASN'T GOOD. he holds his hands up. not in defense, but in surrender. "don't go runnin' back in there on me now." though his tone is grave, serious; because getting her home is the most important thing. he'd much rather that than see her taken away in cuffs ... which he's willing to bet is exactly the plan if they wait around for flashing lights. "c'mon." he takes a step in towards her with a nod to the truck, hoping to usher her. "i'm takin' y'home baby."
