#playingcowboy

                           A lithe digit tapped against the dirtied fabric of her blouse that covered her upper arm, sheer disgust surfacing on Dolores’ features the moment eyes caught sight of the man’s dark garb. Decades had passed, but every time her loop brought her back to this point memories resurfaced as if it was but yesterday; old co-travellers remembered. Sweet William, whose name still lingered on pink lips, but also nonsensical Logan- the man who had claimed this world to be nothing other than a game.

     Why was he standing here in front of her, right in the middle of an abandoned Escalante ?

     ❛ You- ❜   A snarl confirmed her displeasure, hand lowering to the gun hanging from her holster. Year after year Dolores had retraced her steps here as something kept pulling her back to this place, but never had she encountered a familiar face like she did now. Conflict brought unease, certain memories that had been locked away desperate to crawl their way back into her mind.   ❛ What are you doin’ here ? ❜

Blinking slowly, in a futile attempt to cut through the blurred edges and fully comprehend the situation, Logan wound up just gazing up into the narrowed blue eyes glaring down at him with all the intensity of a blazing inferno, and smiled lazily. It took him a while to register the gun in the blondes hands but when he did, he managed to s l o w l y raise both of his own a fraction into the air, fingers splayed and palms shown in a casually disarming fashion. Other than that, Logan seemed entirely at ease with the situation; too sedated to have much in the way of concern. Nor did he appear to all that worried about the fact he was facing arrest.

It wasn’t his first rodeo, after all.

“Are you just not gonna learn?”

Her voice made him laugh, a barely suppressed giggle rippling through him as heavy-lidded eyes travelled the room, seeking out Hector. Once they found him they widened, hands reaching out in his general direction. “Hector. Hector, buddy. Do you have... coffee? I need a latte. It’s important.” As if he wasn’t facing arrest. As if Armistice wasn’t stood right over him, gun in hand.

“This shit makes you thirsty as fuck, man.”

Well shit, had he known the goddamn bounty-hunters came after guests too, he might have been a little more discreet in his activities. Nah, who was he kidding? He lived for this. One fist curled in the front of his shirt, pinning him hard and fast against a wall while a knife lifted and was held firmly to his throat.

Dark eyes looked over the man who’d been hunting him and he had to admit, he was impressed. He’d seen the guy around before, but they hadn’t quite fallen into each others orbit yet. Logan had ( wrongly, apparently, quite wrongly ) assumed the guy to be some run of the mill ranch hand, or some other boring fucker destined to try and drag him on some mind-numbing fucking repetitive quest bullshit.

Not so.

Swallowing, he couldn’t help but grin as the blade threatened against unshaven skin. “Well shit, man, you got me,” raising his hands up to either side of his head, it was all he could do to ignore the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying this situation. “What now?”

          Josh held the blade close to the outlaw’s skin, letting the metal dig just so into Logan’s pulse. He was still breathing heavy, jaw sore and a fine trickle of blood slipping down his chin, but that didn’t keep him from smiling. Logan had been easy enough to track, but he’d given him one hell of a time running after him. Skinny city boy could fight, too, but Logan hadn’t quite been enough.

Well, that was unexpected. Not entirely unwarranted, as he looked over the determined woman before him; covered from head to toe in drying blood, bruised and battered and holding something that looked uncomfortably close to a cane. He knew something was off when she’d taken Maeve aside as they entered the Mariposa. Normally the idea of one of his lovers taking charge and beating the crap out of him was cause for excitement but somehow, looking at her face- he very much doubted this was going to go the sexual way.

“Okay… listen, I know you have every right to be angry…”

He had after all, completely fucking ditched her when they’d found themselves in Ghost Nation territory and he’d saved his own ass, but she’d caught up, hadn’t she? She’d survived- there was no real danger anyway. She couldn’t fault him for having self-preservation instincts. In fact, weren’t people usually having a go at him for being too reckless? Fuck, he couldn’t win.

“But I just think, maybe, you’re overreacting…”

Overreacting? Over-fucking-reacting?! Was he serious? Not only was she covered in some of her blood and dirt, but that disgusting synthetic shit they pumped into the hosts was on her skin. It was sticky and probably the least realistic thing she’d experienced. Or maybe it was accurate. It didn’t matter at that moment. He’d abandoned her, and while the hosts could not hurt the guests, she still sustained a few injuries. 

                     ❛ Were William’s pleas not enough for you to think ? All you did was laugh, and wave his confessions away as if they were just words spoken in mere jest. You never even took notice of the seriousness in his words. ❜   Her distance taken, Dolores found herself sitting in the large windowsill of his room, gaze cast outside; marvel still obvious in the depths of her blues. A sigh opened curved lips again, her voice sounding a tad pained however.   ❛ Even if my mind was not entirely my own, do you really think that the pain is forged ? We feel everythin’, and it’s all supposed to be for your sick entertainment.  ❜

Abby thinks about the question carefully. She’s to answer honestly, and she plans to. However, there’s no telling who might be eavesdropping on the conversation. Her words need to be chosen with just a hint of caution, which of course flies out of the window. They want the truth. “I guess the only way to explain why I do anything for him is because I love him. I always have. We get one another in ways no one else can quite grasp.” She picks at a piece of loose skin to the side of her nail. “He’s the only person who has ever told me it’s okay to be myself, not what everyone else wants me to be. Logan doesn’t judge. He doesn’t berate me. He knows me.”