#nocityfolk

it's been a busy night, but fridays always are.   between the patrons, the new hire he's training, and sawyer's antics, ford isn't sure he's had a moment to breathe since the first regulars started rolling in. he doesn't mind it, really  —  the threads of his attention scattered across the bar contribute nicely to the steady hum of purpose beneath his skin  —  but that doesn't mean he's not a little bit grateful when folks start settling their tabs and the crowd thins a little. it's that thinning that draws his attention to the man at the end of the bar. the man whose order ford suddenly remembers taking nearly ten minutes ago, just before he'd had to diffuse the beginnings of a fight.

he barely suppresses a wince as he grabs a bottle and moves over.   " sorry 'bout your wait, 'preciate your patience, we'll say this first one's on me. "   he glances up from the drink he's pouring with a grin, looking the man over. he's not a regular, ford's got those names and faces long since memorized, but there is something familiar about him. at least a little. he slides the glass across the bartop with practiced ease, tilting his head slightly in the picture of curiosity.  " you come in from that concert down the road? "

There's no recognition in Isaiah's eyes when he looks at Jesse. Isaiah isn't the type to keep up with music, hymns are about all he needs. Rarely does he step into whatever is mainstream at the time, and he's one of those people who drives in silence, not with music blaring. Celebrity culture was of no interest to him, really, he's got more pressing matters on his mind.

But Jesse's comment about the leaf in his hair is enough to get his cheeks to go near as red as his hair. Despite vanity being something of a sin, Isaiah really did take pride (another sin!) in his hair and making sure it was kept nice. Seemed Mother Nature had other plans, though, and Isaiah gives a soft little laugh before bowing his head.

@nocityfolk liked for a starter from Rob

Rob leans back in the stiff office chair, his arms crossed, fingers taping an idle tune as he half-listens to the label rep drone about their newest, shiniest toy.

"We think your perspective could really push Jesse's sound to the next level…"

The suited man's voice fades out as he stops paying attention, responding in noncommital hums, glancing at his watch. Rob isn't entirely sure why he'd agreed to this meeting other than the fact that they were throwing an unholy amount of money his way. Still, "country" isn't exactly in his wheelhouse.

The last time he'd willingly listened to a steel guitar was… well, never.

Before he can make a dry remark about being the wrong man for the job, the door opens, and Jesse walks in. The guy looks exactly like the kind of polished cowboy the industry loves to sell, but there's something in his eyes that gives Rob pause: A kind of tired, wary sharpness that's strange for someone who's supposed to be a fresh-faced star.

They exchange nods before the other sits across the table, his body language casual but careful, like he's ready for whatever Rob is going to throw at him. The label rep keeps talking, but Rob barely hears them, too busy sizing up the younger man.

Finally, when the rep pauses to take a breath, Rob decides to speak.

it almost makes him laugh, the soft gasps he hears behind him as he moves toward the bar, the murmurs that have followed him all evening  —  ranging from surprised to concerned, to downright hateful  —  rippling like a wave as he settles into the seat, orders two bottles of water, and passes one over.

“ wyatt’ll do just fine. ”   the correction is gentle, accompanied by a chuckle, deep and soft. he’s quiet, lets him get out his praise before shaking his head slightly, a bemused smile curling at the corners of his mouth.   “ could say the same to you, ”   it’s not empty flattery either, he’s caught himself humming old winchester at least a dozen times since he’d first heard it, since it’d first punched a hole clean through his chest.

he takes a sip of his water, not quite the reprieve a deep down part of him had hoped for, but a welcome balm nonetheless.  “ believe it or not, these things get easier. ”   a pause,   “ never fun, mind you, but definitely easier. ”

the holiday classics croon all night long , festive exemplars , which never quite get old for some reason . though he'd prefer to listen to it on his own piece of junk in the beautiful isolation of his bedroom , his ears have no trouble softening at the sound of them when they're enjoyed in the same space as others — not while he's here .

perhaps he indulges too much in separation . his lonesome days have grown tired over the years , yet he spends so much time by himself , he can hardly find comfort in the company of others when the former is already so easy to deal with . this it the way it is , or at least , the way it was , until he found him . a driving force , the very reason he's made the time to be here . after all , social gatherings are tended to mostly out of obligation , but if there's something to look forward to , say running into a good friend , sharing some stimulating conversation , finding a reason to get excited to see one another again come next time , then for him , it's all worth it .

he thinks it'll be just that . a few hours in a dim limelight , wrapped up in a world of their own , as they share laughs , exchange not - so distant memories , find solace in the kindred spirit of each other's brains all over again , because that's how it's always been , like clockwork . it's how it's always felt , at least to arthur , who always paws from inside , like the body is a barrier of impeding glass , always wanting more . and it is just that , until festive exemplars weasel their way beyond the tame simplicity of a holiday anthem or two .

ole mistletoe — cheap holiday gimmick , he thinks to himself when his eyes happen to find it out of the corner of his eye mid - conversation . ❝ did ya jus' mention mistletoe n'holly jus' 'cause that's there ? ❞ he asks , chummy and humorous , as he thumbs at the thing over his shoulder . though lightheartedness quickly falters when he notices something in his friend shift . watching him closely , hand drops and smile fades , an instant concern flooding the cheerfulness , washing away the merriment in the matter of a second . initially , he thinks jesse might just get sick ; he's the one that drank more than him , after all .

❝ jess — ? ❞ he falls prompted to reach , but the other does the rest , practically meeting him halfway , and then stepping further past . the line suddenly gets crossed , making arthur freeze beneath what feels like a spell emanating from his friend's palms . his own remain lifted in the air , hovering with hesitation as he lets it all happen , warmth finding its way to the slope of his neck , sending tiny hairs up across his shoulders , down his arms , and a kiss — the last thing he ever expects — as it finds its way to his lips .

air feels heavy in his lungs . the chill of the other's fingertips , the hickory liquor on his lips , the boldness of his actions , and the deep down need for yearning affection — he breathes it in , now that he has it , with a desire that feels like a gasp , shock and surprise circuiting through his system . he eases , lets his one able hand fall down to the man's hip , wrapping him up in a half - baked embrace that could go anywhere out here , in the safeness of their solitude . but is it really all that safe ?

everything stops , the connection breaks . arthur is once again on the inside , pawing , wanting more . but upon an apology , he can only listen and wonder , was that a mistake ? the concern remains in his faint crinkles , almost unreadable besides that , as if the amorous gesture of another man didn't just make him feel alive again , drunker than before .

jesse suddenly feels heavy . his other hand instinctively twitchs to his other hip , but only to keep his friend from stumbling and falling over his own feet . he's the one that drank more than him , after all . and maybe he should take that seriously , knowing regret has the potential come up in more than way later on . he finds a good grip on him with what strength he has , pulling him closer , chest to chest , the aroma of that liquor harsh , roaming underneath his nose . surely , it's not enough to remember this by morning ? arthur will hope for the best [ or maybe the best is for at least one of them to lose the memory ] . ❝ i think we oughta get ya home . ❞

"i doubt that's true. everyone who says they're boring usually isn't." just being from wyoming wasn't enough to satiate her interest. pink lips quirked upward in the slightest bit of approval as he turned toward her.

clementine hummed an affirmative response and nodded, "yeah, studied ballet and french." a language she'd been reminded repeatedly was about as useful around here as studying greek. she expected reproach for her choice of subjects at every turn. she was putting all her eggs in one basket so to speak. "now you have," she said like it was some sort of bucket list item. if it was for anyone she wasn't the ballerina to meet yet. she stood, and walked over to where he was working, arms crossed over her bikini top.

kiera opened doors for strangers now. she'd tried to help someone fix a flat and ended up embarrassing herself. she carried a woman's groceries to her car. she was still working on it, but the freedom and the mountain air was proving to be good for her. still, he called her ma'am and she had to fight the urge to chuckle.

"no problem," sir didn't sound natural coming out of her mouth. she'd tried it a few times. at the club, it all felt like an act and calling someone sir didn't have to feel natural. out here with someone only a few years older than her it felt like muddling her way through a different language. she could accept a drink without feeling like a foreigner though. she nodded and smiled appreciatively at the man, "yeah, that sounds good. i'm kiera, i'm not really from around here." everyone always brought it up, so she'd started opening with it. got that part of the conversation out of the way.