#noah chat

When: November (Post-Fall Carnival) -> Present (Mid-December)

Where: Noah's home -> Tim's home

Sometimes, Tim wondered if there was a way out of this life that didn't wind up with his body buried in some unmarked grave way out in the desert. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the Cowboy Mafia; he did. It was that Tim resented being dragged into family matters. In this case, somehow, someway, Elias and the Top Hands nominated him to visit Randall Kastings youngest brother, Noah Kastings. Tim bit his tongue against the urge to ask why they kept letting the Cowboy Mafia turn into a family affair? Then, no one, would have to worry about a fingers or a hand going rogue when their family member wound up dead.

In this case, Tim thought as he walked to Noah Kasting's front door, Noah at least knew Randall was dead. Now, they just had some answers and a new onslaught of questions. Tim knocked on the door, glancing over his shoulder out towards the stars and his truck. Maybe, Noah would be asleep. The door creaking on its hinge said otherwise. Tim turned away from the night and offered Noah Kastings a slight nod. "The coroner got back to Elias tonight," Tim started, he rarely ever beat around the bush about things like this. "You got time to talk?"

Where: The Ostrich Festival

When: Present (prior to March 18th)

These days the Paxton Roundup was becoming more and more of a true crime expose. Years ago, after Tim graduated college and tried to convince himself he'd like living in the city, he worked for a news station. It was the type of work that practically sucked the life out of him. He almost forgot why until the darkness of the city made itself at home in Paxton. The Roundup was sitting on an anonymous submission -- one that couldn't be traced back to a reliable source, one that made a migraine drill behind his eyes.

Going to the Ostrich Festival was an attempt to write about something other than death and drugs. Yet, the video kept lingering in the back of his mind. Then, as if his mind conjured him, he caught sight of Noah Kastings.

He hadn't forgotten the last time he saw Noah outside his house, stumbling off after he just about bit his head off. Now, as people walked from stall to stall, ostrich hats on their heads, Tim weighed his options. He could let Amy make the call, she was the one writing the article, or he could warn Noah now and potentially ruin his day.

"Hey," he greeted, still weighing his options, when he caught Noah's gaze. He nodded towards one of the ostrich creeping towards the fence. "On your left -- somebody said they will dive their heads thinking we all got food for them."

Dude, at least pretend like you’ve got your balls.

Eh. It was just a comment.