#rdrheadcanons

The closer you get to Saint Denis, the more you realize what's going on. Jack has finally taken you over to the big city. He's got such a smug look on his face when the ferry comes into the docks, and an even smugger look when he's checking the two of you into the hotel.

"We've got a week here, sweetheart. We can do whatever you fancy." And he means that, he's happy to do anything you want for the week.

You're a few days in when you wake up one night to find that Jack isn't beside you. As you sit up, you notice him through the balcony doors. He's stood on the balcony, his forearms resting on the railing as he looks out over the city.

He keeps dipping his head down, almost as if he's looking at something in his hands. Maybe he has his sketchbook out? It doesn't quite look like it, but you leave him to it and go back to sleep.

Jack gets a bit carried away with buying himself some new clothes; a load of very fine looking suits. You know he's going to be showing those outfits off when he's back in the Blackwater Saloon playing poker.

On the last night there, you go for an evening walk with Jack. He told you to dress up, because "why not? it's our last night here. Let's try and blend in with the locals."

You watch the sunset on the pier with him after going for dinner together. He's stood with his arm around your waist overlooking the water, and you've noticed the way he's nervously fiddling with your clothing, and how clammy his hands seem as he keeps wiping them off on his blazer.

He's unbelievably nervous. He knew he'd get nervous, but this is waaaaay more than he was expecting. The last time he felt like this was during that short walk he took along the river before finding Ross, but that was a different kind of nervous.

Jack's thought time and time again about how to say it. Should he be mushy and begin telling you how much he loves you? Should he ask to tie your shoelace and pull the ring out then? He just can't settle on one.

Something catches Jacks eye as he's looking out at the water and an idea springs to mind.

"Is that a dolphin?" Jack asks as he points out at the water. You say "where?!" excitingly, and Jack continues to vaguely point out whilst urging you forward.

"What do you mean you can't see it? It's right there!" he tells you, gently laughing (though it's a nervous laugh.)

Your hands rest on the railing, squinting as you look out at the water for that damn dolphin. You've paid no attention to the fact that Jacks hand has disappeared from your waist, or the fact that he's taken a step back from you.

"You must be playing tricks on me-" you begin to tut as you turn back to him, ready to tell him off for playing another joke on you.

He's settling on one knee, the ring between his fingers as his other hand reaches forward to gently take yours. He tells you all the mushy stuff, about how much he adores you, how much you mean to him, etcetc.

Yes, Jack is sobbing as he puts the ring on your finger, and you can taste his tears on his lips as he stands to give you a kiss.

Jack tends to do his ranch work shirtless, simply because he sweats so much. But he catches you staring one day and notices straight away how flustered you look at the sight of Jack all sweaty and working away, so now he ALWAYS does ranch work shirtless, even if it's cold outside, just to be a tease.

His jaw dropped to the floor when you came out to help him work one afternoon also shirtless, your suspenders teasingly covering your nipples. He dragged you straight over to the cattle pen and fucked you against the fence.

Jack's super clean and bathes often, and he's always happy to have you climb into the bath with him. Sometimes, he'll just cuddle with you in there, maybe wash each other and joke around. But every so often he's itching to fuck you in there, even if the water does splash all over the floor.

One of his favourite things is teasing you in public. He'll take you to the Saloon just so you can sit on his lap whilst he plays a few card games. His hand will be trailing all over your thighs under the table whilst he makes the odd comment into your ear. You'll need to drag him away from the game when he rests his hand on your crotch because he won't stop, even if somebody notices.

His favourite is actually him cuddled up to you. The first time he ever did it, it was a stormy day at Beechers Hope. You'd visited him for a couple of days and you had planned on going out for a picnic, but the storm canceled your plans.

So instead, you lounged about around the house. You were sprawled across the couch reading a book whilst Jack was prepping dinner, and once he'd put it on the stove to cook, he came into the lounge and without saying a word, tucked himself on the couch on top of you.

You lifted the book slightly so his head could rest on your chest, and one of your arms wrapped around him, the other one holding your book.

His legs tangled up with yours, and his head began to tingle as you gently stroked his hair, brushing the loose strands off his face.

Jack had never felt so content before, cuddling up to you as you continued to read. His eyes fell shut, his head spinning from the simple contact you were giving him.

He's always wished he could have introduced you to his parents, but he knows they're looking down on him, and they'd definitely approve of you if they ever had the pleasure of meeting you.

You feel something damp on your shirt and you ask Jack if he's alright.

"Oh, yeah. I fell asleep, must have dribbled on you. Sorry, darlin'," he lies. He doesn't want to admit that he let a few tears fall. For some reason, dribbling on you is less embarrassing.

Arthur

Lots and lots of pet names.

Will check if you're okay whilst still making it smutty. "You enjoyin' my cock, darlin'?"

Very quiet and considerate to others if you fuck in the camp, but won't hold back if you're out in the wilderness. He's 50/50 when it comes to hotels, depends on which one it is and if he likes the staff/people.

High honor Arthur will shower you in compliments and praise your work. "Sweetheart, you're usin' that mouth far too well."

Low honor Arthur will still compliment you but a bit more aggressive. "That's a good girl. Really take that fucking cock."

Very much a moaner and won't hold back.

John

Swears like a sailor. "Fuck. FUCK! Shit, oh god, darlin'. You're too damn good at this, you know that? Shit!"

Isn't really that good at dirty talking tbh. Once in a blue moon he'll be reaaaaaally good tho. He doesn't understand how his mind often goes blank.

Has actually sat down and thought of things to say to you. Came up with some really good stuff but forgot it all in the moment.

He gets good during really rough sex, usually when he's been horny all day and has finally gotten the chance to pounce on you. "I've seen the way you've been teasin' me all day. You're gonna pay for it now, missy. You get on those knees and put that mouth to work. If you do a good job then I won't have to hold you down and face fuck you, so get to it!"  

He's quite loud, gets told to shut up a lot. "I can't help bein' loud, it's your fault!"

Is both a moaner and a groaner and also doesn't hold back on it.

Dutch

This man just doesn't fucking shut up.

The way he speaks to you depends on his mood and whatever kind of sex you're having.

Loves to instruct you on what to do, almost always has to be in charge. If you're obedient he'll smother you in praise, if not, he'll probably spank you. "Why can't you just do as you're told?" *smack*

Likes to encourage you to do more, really pushes your limits. "Sweetheart, is that all you can fit in your mouth? I know you can do better. Come on, try it for me, please?"

Enjoys calling you names like 'whore' and 'slut', but only if you're into that. He always checks eeeeverything before he does it. He'll stop mid sex and be like "Do you enjoy being degraded, Miss?"

If you're having loving, tender sex then he'll call you pet names. But dirtier sex he'll use more insulting names.

A mix of everything; moans, grunts, pants, the whole lot. Usually depends on the sex you're having.

Javier

Absolutely perfect. Flawless. Always knows what to say. Always knows when to say it too. Has the perfect balance for everything.

Loves to call you Spanish pet names. Will teach you a few short phrases so you can understand him too.

Lets out the most gorgeous moans to ever grace this earth.

If you're having gentle sex then he'll smother you in compliments and praise. "Mi amor, you look so beautiful riding me, you feel so good it's unreal."

He'll get really dominating if you're having rougher sex. "On your knees now, puta. You've been misbehaving all day and I'm sick of it. Time to teach you a lesson."

Has never had a noise complaint, is very considerate of other people.

Bill

He's 50/50. Sometimes he's perfect and it all naturally flows, other times he can barely even say your name.

Tends to grunt and huff rather than moan, unless if you're going down on him, that can have him moaning like a bitch. "Oh, oooh! Oh shit, oh my god you're... you're so fucking good at that!"

He tends to be really good when he's dominating you. "You know, I've been waiting to be buried inside of you all day, so you're gonna keep quiet whilst I fuck you up against this tree. Ya hear?"

If you're dominating him then he'll just be a moaning mess. He'll get really loud, even if it's in camp. Sean once pulled your tent down whilst you two were fucking in it cause Bill was so loud and just wouldn't shut up.

If you make this man feel confident and loved then he'll eventually be able to say dirtier things to you. It takes a while for Bill to build up his confidence during sex, but once you're there he won't hold back.

Kieran

LOUD.

Very much a moaner. Pants a lot too since he fucks like a rabbit.

Tried to do a sexy growl once and it was so embarrassing he instantly went soft and just went to bed :(

He’ll whimper sometimes too, usually if you’re teasing him. 

Usually can't string a sentence together. He'll want to say 100 things at once so it just all comes out his mouth at once. "Fuck! O-oh god, sweetheart you're... oh you're... Fuck! So good, oh, please carry on!"

The first couple of times he'll be quite shy but eventually, he'll just snap. One day you'll be having sex and he'll be so nervous and shy, the next time he's all over you and knows exactly what to do.

Dominant Kieran doesn't appear often, but when he does, he takes CHARGE. "You better not move your leg off my shoulder, alright? I need it up there so I can fuck you real deep."

Micah

Says the nastiest things anyone has ever heard.

He's usually very dominating and won't hold back, but if you've managed to break him and you're in charge then he'll be like putty. "C'mon, dollface. Do that again for me please? You're killin' me here, darlin', you know that?"

If you have a lot of similar kinks then he'll be all over you 24/7. He'll make you HIS girl simply based on your sex life. You could be sat on the back of the wagon cleaning some guns when he'll sneak over and try distracting you. "Look at the way you use those hands. Better not tire yourself out for later. I just sharpened my knife and I can't wait to cut those clothes off ya." 

Usually grunts, unless if you've turned him into putty, then he'll moan like his life depends on it.

He's very feral, makes a lot of wild kinda noises. Thankfully no, he won't start howling.

Loves to praise and degrade, he feeds on that shit. "Good giiiirl. You're a real slut for this cock, ain'tcha?"

Charles

Usually makes soft grunts and moans.

Always keeps it down when in any kinda public. The only time he'll get loud is when he knows you're both alone, like in the wilderness.

Says a looooot of compliments and uses a looooot of petnames. "You look so gorgeous for me, my love."

He's very tender and caring, even when you're really going at it.

Even when he's being dominant, he's still so gentle about it. "You think you can let me go a little deeper, my love. I'm sure you can take it."

Tends to be quite collected until you ride him, then he just falls apart. "Oh, oh! Please keep going, please don't stop. God, you're so good at this. Oh, Christ!"

He doesn't dirty talk too often, usually because he's covering you in kisses instead.

Sean

Has been kicked out of many hotels for being so fucking loud.

Speaks faster than he can think, so he'll stutter or stumble a lot. "Oooh, oh, you're... you're fuckin' lovin' this, aincha?"

He's more focused on fucking you, so his train of thought is all over the place. He'll speak faster than he can think.

"Sean, PLEASE. For the love of god. SHUT. UP!"

Always has to mention his nationality at least once every time you have sex. "Didn't realize you were quite the slut for this Irish dick, huh?"

You can tear this man's walls down and make him a whimpering mess if you know exactly what to do. "Oh, please! Please do that again, sweetheart. I'll do anything, please! That was so damn good!"

"You don't think that maybe... Dutch... he ain't really... with it?" Bill questions. Everybody has noticed how much Dutch has changed, how he's unnecessarily killing, how he's becoming the exact person he swore never to be.

"He isn't. I know he isn't. I guess I just don't want to admit it," Javier sighs. He knows that the man who saved his life is no longer someone he can rely on. He's not the same man who peeled his own coat off his back and wrapped it around Javier, attempting to tell him that he'll be fine, despite the language barrier.

Sooner or later, the gang will break. People have already begun peeling away, one at a time, escaping before the storm can hit. But Javier and Bill are in it till the very end, they've sworn their loyalty to their leader, to the gang, to each other.

"Bill?" Javier questions, lifting his head up and meeting Bills eyes.

"Yeah?" Bill asks, noticing the glistening trails of Javiers tears over his cheeks.

"If anything happens... to the gang I mean, you'll stick by me, Bill, won't you?" Javier questions.

"Of course," Bill nods.

They have each other.

-----

The storm finally came and they were forced to pick a side. But when the Pinkertons showed up, everybody ran.

Javier and Bill noticed the way Dutch didn't bother with them. Dutch didn't even look at them, he didn't check if they were safe or if they were following him to safety. He ran and saved his own ass, Micah trailing behind.

Javier and Bill looked at each other whilst the bullets continued to fly overhead, knowing that now is their chance to escape.

So they left, whistling for their horses and bolting out of there. Dutch was nowhere to be seen nor heard, but this was a blessing in disguise as they could finally escape.

Days became weeks and they found themselves in New Austin, a place they hadn't been for well over the year. They've not missed the blazing sun or the dry earth, but the landscape doesn't seem to bother them. They have bigger demons to face.

A small camp is set up whilst they try and figure things out, where to go, what to do, where to hide, etc. They're sticking together, and even Brown Jack and Boaz seem inseparable, traumatized from how much that fight had startled them.

They're scavenging whatever they can, robbing the odd coach here and there, practically picking up every penny they see in the dirt in order to survive. Every day is heavy, a permanent weight on their shoulders, and they can't remember the last time they've laughed or smiled.

The nights in New Austin are cold and dark, like a vast void. It's the perfect setting for nightmares and they become a regular thing for Javier.

Bill's used to overhearing Javier jolt awake. He's used to stirring in his sleep and seeing Javier sat by the campfire, bags under his eyes with his knees tucked up to his chest.

That well-groomed and confident man that he once knew is gone, leaving behind this started lamb with enough weight on his shoulders to kill a horse.

The nightmares get bad one night, Javier jolting awake but this time, he lets out a cry. He's panting and shaking and he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

"Javier?" Bill calls out as he stirs awake, slowly sitting up to see Javier on the verge of a breakdown. "Shit," Bill swears under his breath, quickly getting to his feet and settling down beside Javier.

The tears begin to fall and Javier goes into a panicked state, shaking and hyperventilating, forgetting how to move his own body.

Bill's unsure what to do so he plays on his instincts, reaching out to gently pull Javier against his chest, softly wrapping his arms around the much smaller man.

Javier melts into him straight away, burying his head into the curve of Bills neck, clinging onto Bills shirt for dear life as he empties out all his bottled emotions through his tears.

Bill cradles Javier, softly cooing him, reminding him to breathe every so often. They stay like that for quite some time; minutes? hours? time blurs when you're in that state.

Once Javier's worn out and stable enough to respond, he sobs out a "thank you," still curled up in Bills lap, still gripping onto his shirt and breathing heavily.

"S'alright. You'd do the same for me," Bill tells him. "C'mon, let's get some rest," Bill says. Javier can only nod in agreement.

Neither of them questions what happens next, they just naturally do it. Bill pulls Javier down with him onto his bedroll, stretching his arm out underneath Javiers head, pulling the smaller man against him. Javiers arms wrap around Bill tightly, gripping onto the bear-sized man as if he was going to slip away.

They're quick to drift off to sleep, exhausted from the turn of events, but the way they've slept doesn't bother either of them.

From then on, literally sleeping together becomes a normal thing. It's comforting, reminding themselves that they still have each other, but only each other.

Javier does try to sleep by himself one night whilst Bill goes for a walk, but he ends up lying awake the whole time. Once Bill is back and settled on his own rollmat, Javier gets up and moves across to Bill, taking his normal position comfortably across Bills chest.

Bill doesn't say a word, he just stretches his arm out and allows Javier to curl up to him. If anything, Bill encourages it from the way he tightly holds Javier, and the way his cheek rests against Javiers head as they sleep.

-----

Their first kiss wasn't surprising. It was a somewhat odd situation, the pair attempting to go into town one evening for a few drinks, over a year after the event.

They'd gotten a lot better since they began finding comfort in each other, and Javier was the one to suggest that they should try and do something normal, especially now they'd earned a fair amount of money and were beginning to get back onto their feet.

Drinks were downed and they were at a comfortable level, sitting by themselves at the table. The saloon was quite busy for a dry, desert town. One that was apparently riddled with cholera but the pair weren't fussed if they catch it. If anything, it'd be a blessing.

They overheard a man make a comment about them, saying he'd "never seen such an odd pair of fags before."

Javier was the one to act impulsively, not Bill, storming to his feet and confronting the stranger.

Bill peeled him away, saying he's not worth it, and managed to drag Javier outside and have him relax as they leaned on the fence surrounding the Saloon.

Bill knew Javier was calm the second he said "that was weird for me, eh? You used to be the one to do things like that," with a soft laugh.

"Maybe you've been around me for too long then," Bill replied.

"Yeah, maybe a little too close to you too," Javier laughs, but Bill picks up on that glisten to his eyes.

"D-do you mind that?" Bill questions. The two had never actually spoken about their sleeping arrangements, naturally doing them to help benefit the other, providing warmth and comfort through their hardest times.

"The cuddling? No," Javier confidently replies.

He said it. Cuddling. They are cuddling, aren't they? Bill feels odd finally hearing it, finally coming to terms with the fact that the pair do enjoy a cuddle every night. And they don't just do it when they're in bed; they've often just lazed about together by the campfire some evenings, or spent a few minutes in each others arms before they get up.

"Do you?" Javier asks, snapping Bill out of his dazed realization.

"What? No," Bill replies.

"Hm," Javier hums in agreement.

They're silent, staring at each other. Javier's always been relaxed about the arrangement, calling it to himself cuddling from the very start, but Bill was a little unsure if it really was cuddling. He's never wanted to cross any boundaries, to hurt Javier in any way, especially not by making him uncomfortable.

Their eyes lock onto each others; Bill's wide and timid, whilst Javiers are relaxed and confident.

But regardless of their current states, they both move in at the same time to finally kiss. It's comforting, like sipping a hot drink at just the right temperature, or watching a rock skim perfectly over the water. It feels like both home and the open road, like two polar opposites finally meeting.

If they would have somehow kissed years ago then it would have never worked; their noses would have bumped too often, Bill would have been too aggressive, and Javier would have probably pushed him away.

But now, it was just right.

He owns a really nice 1961 Chevrolet Impala. It's black with a red interior, and he spoils that thing cause it's his one true love.

Flaco rides around often with the top down, cigarette in one hand, other hand on the steering wheel, with some big bad boy sunglasses on. He's quite the sight and he knows it.

But he ignores everyone. Bunch of women fawning over him at the traffic lights? Ignore. Idiot in the car next to him revving his engine, wanting a race? Ignore.

He once accidentally ran over Micah Bell and didn't give a shit. He shouted "watch where you're going, blondie!" and looked in his car mirror to see Micah picking himself off the road. He was fine.

Flaco has a loose routine, and every Wednesday, he picks up Black Belle from her fancy mansion and they go get something to eat. He always picks her up around midday, and their meetups can take anywhere from an hour to all day.

Belle met Flaco many years ago when they were put on set together, and they've starred in a few films over the years. Belle doesn't mind the fame as much, she's happy to sign autographs and pose for photos here and there.

The two usually get some form of lunch together, though most of the time they day drink and get hammered by 3pm. Flaco just gets a taxi back to Belles and passes out on her sofa, cuddling her Irish Wolfhound. He then walks and picks up his car the next day, or the day after, depending on the hangover.

"Where we going today, Hernández?" Belle asks as she gets in his car. It's her usual greeting for him.

"How about we do exactly what we do each week, and drive around until we pick somewhere?" Flaco suggests, as always.

So the two of them do exactly that. They cruize around, fussing over where to eat.

Flaco always keeps a carton of eggs in his glovebox, as gross as that is, just so him and Belle can throw one at Little Boy Calloway whenever they see him. He's a sellout, a washed-up, grumpy old man, and they love to torment him for being such a wuss.

Flaco drives by this small cliche American diner on the corner of one street. As always, the traffic lights change so he has to wait a while, but he'll peer in the window, eyes glistening at that young server inside.

"They're far too pretty to be working in there, BB," Flaco tells Belle, as always.

"Here we go," Belle mocks, rolling her eyes. Flaco does this every week, driving this specific route just so he can enjoy his five-second gaze at you through the window. You've never noticed, surprisingly.

"They'll be mine one day, just you wait," Flaco grins, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as the lights change to green.

"How about today, huh? Let's go inside," Belle suggests.

Flacos gaze quickly flicks over to Belle. "You crazy?!" He shouts.

"I am, and so are you. Come on, pull up here," Belle points at the car park just down the street.

Flaco's mumbling under his breath but he does it anyway. Belle always gets her way, he's a sister to her, and Flaco's an only child so it's hard for him to deny his adopted blood.

"I'm not even dressed nice. I look scruffy. Why can't we just go another day?" Flaco grunts as he parks.

"You wear the same damn thing every week. Now come on, quit your moaning," Belle says as she gets out of the car.

"No, I don't! I'm wearing new pants this week, look," Flaco says as he points to his jeans.

"Oh wow. New pants that look exactly like your old ones? You're really dressed to impress here, ain'tcha?" Belle teases.

Belle leads the way, hurrying Flaco along, teasing him over and over. "You gonna ask for their number? Ask 'em out on a date? Maybe you can take 'em for a ride? Hm?" She pokes and prods at him. Flaco stays silent, frowning, his sunglasses covering up half of his sulky face.

Belle's energetic when she enters the diner, greeting you with a smile and asking for a table for two. You talk to them in your customer service voice, seating them at a booth by the window.

You know exactly who they are. Who doesn't? Though you haven't seen all of their movies, you know the stuff that they've been in is really good, classic western films. A genre that you've studied at college.

Flaco takes his sunglasses off, placing them on the table. He keeps his gaze down and tries to focus on the menu you've placed in front of him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" You ask them.

"A chocolate milkshake please, sweetheart," Belle smiles at you. You've heard that she's a kind woman but you weren't expecting her to be this friendly.

"Sure. And for you?" You ask Flaco, who keeps his gaze down.

"Ermm. Uhh. I'll just have the same as her," Flaco replies, quickly brushing you off.

You tell them you'll be quick with their drinks and leave them to it. You assumed Flaco was just tired, maybe his reddened cheeks is from the heat outside?

"A milkshake?" Belle mocks once you've gone into the back. "Hernández, you hate milkshakes!" She laughs.

"I panicked, alright?!" Flaco grumbles.

"Why don't we call her back over so you can fumble about even more as you change your mind?" Belle teases.

"No!" Flaco almost shouts. A customer nearby jumps out of his skin, intimidated by Flacos deep and sudden voice.

"Alrighhttttt," Belle grins. "You make sure you know what you really want to eat though," Belle talks to him in a baby voice. It always winds him up but since they're in public, Flaco can't make a scene and playfight back.

You bring the drinks over and the two of them thank you, Belle smiling up at you whilst Flaco keeps his head dipped down. "You ready to order?" you ask, and they both nod.

You take their orders and everything seems fine, so you head back into the kitchen to hand them over to the cook.

"You not want a side order of their number with that, Hernández?" Belle grins again.

"I should never have agreed to come here. You are the most embarrassing woman I've ever met," Flaco sighs, looking at Belle with the most blankly frustrated look he's ever pulled.

All Belle does is grin and enjoy her milkshake, urging Flaco to drink his own.

He does, and he can't handle the sweetness. But Flaco drinks it anyway, not wanting to make any more of a mess than he's already in.

The rest of their time there goes smoothly, enjoying their food and nattering away. Flaco slowly relaxes, but Belle notices the way his eyes flick to watch you every time you appear.

"So, you gonna ask? or have I gotta do it for you?" Belle asks.

"Why don't you feed me whilst we're at it? Maybe drive me to the bar so I can get blackout drunk and try to forget this humiliating experience?" Flaco groans, half chewing his food. He doesn't care and Belle's used to seeing him talking whilst he eats.

"Fine, I'll do it then," Belle rolls her eyes. Flaco goes to stop her but it's too late, she's called you over.

"We'll take the bill when you're ready, sweetheart," Belle tells you.

"Sure, no problem." You're about to walk off but Belle speaks again.

"Flaco, ain't there something you wanted to say?" Belle asks, grinning from ear to ear as the two of you look at him.

"Oh, erm..." Flaco mumbles, quickly wiping the ketchup off his stache with a napkin. "Could... could you send my compliments to the chef, please?" He asks.

"Of course! She'll be happy to hear it," you smile at him, quickly turning away to head into the back.

"Hernández!" Belle kicks him under the table.

"You can't put me on the spot like that!" Flaco frowns, trying to keep his voice down again.

"Fine, I give up," Belle sarcastically sighs.

"You do?"

"Yep," she shrugs. "You've won, Hernández. You'll have to pick them up in your own time," she sighs.

"Hmm. I've known you far too long to know that you don't give up this easily," Flaco squints.

"Nope, I've truly given up. No point wastin' my time when you won't co-operate," Belle shrugs again.

Flaco's suspicious but leaves it.

The two of them pay and leave, giving you a fat tip that makes your eyes sparkle. Belle insists you take it, Flaco nodding in agreement but still staying quiet.

Finally, they head off, leaving the diner and heading back to the car.

"Oh, shit! I left my purse in the diner," Belle sighs. "I'll meet you at the car, alright?"

Flaco's about to say he'll just come back with her but she's already ran across the street, flipping off the stranger that almost ran her over.

Flaco rolls his eyes and heads back. He starts the car, putting on his sunglasses and lighting a cigarette.

Belle comes round the corner, grinning from ear to ear.

'I knew I couldn't trust her, what's she done now?' Flaco thinks to himself.

"Why are you smiling?" Flaco snaps as Belle gets in the passenger side.

"This is for you," Belle mischievously grins, handing Flaco a piece of paper with your number on it.

"BB, why you gotta put me on the spot like this, huh? This is so embarrassing," he shakes his head, taking out his wallet so he can put the piece of paper away safely.

"Oh, don't you worry. They said they get just as nervous as you do," Belle tells him as she puts her sunglasses on, leaning her arm on the car door.

"They do?" Flaco asks, seeming surprised.

"Course. It's that natural attraction, Hernández," Belle teases.

"Oh, shut up you," Flaco swats his hand.