#vaquerros

@vaquerros asked: " you're a good listener, it's dangerous - because it's so hard to resist being listened to. " / for rudy.

contained gaze lifts from its prior position, having been focused on cleaning up his boots. rodolfo takes great pride in his gear, in his uniform — on the verge of tucking it into bed at night, in fact. it's unfortunate that he's succumbed to the mindset that it is the fuerzas especiales that makes him who he is. it's why he lives on, suffering the things that he does and often in silence. not through any fault of alejandro's, he's simply always been the quiet kid. always present, always observing and watching but quiet. it's a way of life that lends itself to him well, likely the reason he's still breathing to this day.

he is better at talking now, has been for some time thanks to his brother's efforts. and he's much better at allowing the burdens sat atop his shoulders to slip off into the dirt. knows he does what he can, that he can't achieve anything more. should he miss the mark, he will adapt and prepare for the next time because in his mind, there always is a next time — at least until one dies. thus, he didn't bear the heavy weights alejandro often did. the infectious vehemence of harmful, volatile emotions didn't affect him so, not in the way they seem to seep and ooze from his friend.

should he reach for the bandages? no — it's best to let alejandro bleed sometimes. history tells him, regardless of whether he likes it, loss is where his colonel is strongest. thus, rudy watches as the metaphorical blood and viscera flood the floor. he will help him clean it up, without a sound if need be. the other's choice of words mildly humour him, mostly because he's sure it's something similar to what his mother had once told him. " ¿quién dice que estoy escuchando? [ who says i'm listening? ] " his brother has known him long enough to hear the jest in his tone, albeit very subtle. his lips curve and he pats alejandro's shoulder.

@vaquerros asked: " i can't treat it if i can't see it. "

teeth are bared and nostrils flare, clumsy and distracted — her teammate had turned and his padded elbow had collided with an abandoned pan on the gas. boiling water was launched in her direction and met exposed forearm. despite the contact being minimal and the burn miniscule, alejandro was quick to place undivided attention on her once their target had been apprehended. they're in the home of their enemy, pursuing a lead on an individual from la araña cartel.

he'd gotten too comfortable and had been preparing to cook a meal when fuerzas especiales had busted down his door and cleared the property, two soldiers on his tail when he'd fled the building in an attempt to escape. they'd quickly pinned him to the ground and secured him and while the rest of the unit were scanning the location, alejandro had led her to what could be described as the living room, a singular couch and lonely table — it's dimly lit due to the blinds being shut and what light does peek through is absorbed by their dark uniforms.

so carefully, glove-free palm is extended outwards, facing up expectantly. as though she's about to give in to a game of nurse, like she can't patch herself up. valeria studies his hand then sharp gaze flits up to find his own. no puedo tratarla si no puedo verla. ah, he's serious. she should be able to tell from the solemn crease in his furrowed brow, the sympathy etched into his cheeks, but she stills hopes one day he'll surprise her. that he'll remain silent and the expectation will instead be for her to get on with it alone while he provides cover.

          " no hay nada que tratar ( there is nothing to be treated, ) " keeps arm reluctantly by her side. he needn't say another word for his eyes to plead with her, they reason that the sooner he confirms it the sooner they can move on. thus, valeria shoves her arm out towards him, evading his palm — she's not going to make it easy for him. does she ever?

@vaquerros asked: “ did i say to stop? ”

otra vez ( again. ) otra vez. otra vez. her fingers ache, the tips sting and her forearms are near-numb from the recoil. they've been at this for at least an hour, with her team having progressed onto other sectors of training, their voices distant and muffled by the nearby close quarters set-up. tall walls of wood keep the pair hidden at her selected stall, back turned to alejandro and shoulders squared, leaning into the butt of her gun. valeria doesn't understand why he's keeping her here, stopping her from progressing with the rest of the unit. it'd been approximately half a year since she'd joined, she was no rookie and perhaps more skilled than a large portion of her own team.

tongue roughly runs along the backs of her teeth as she considers his motive. she's certain her knowing what she's doing and being well practiced is his stubborn attempt at ensuring her safety, as best he can. at least without following her throughout the field, gun trained on any who dare breath in her direction. knows he'd have it that way, if he could — if she'd let him, if it wouldn't trigger suspicion in the other soldiers. alas, she'll bare her teeth for space and he'll reluctantly bend to her will. sometimes valeria wonders how she draws breath at all, with her valiant knight ever-ready to swoop in and rescue her! alas, she could be tempted to enable it, fascinated by his need to feel needed.

otra vez. the order is curt this time, harsher, like he's irritated she's not taking this precious training seriously. as though he has better things to be doing than watching her work. garza is a sight in this moment, understandably enticing to any man and while she hopes, beneath her charming, alluring façade, it's not the only reason he remains in her company, she knows she looks good in her fitted vest with sweat dripping down toned biceps, trickling down her spine and chest.

what an amalgam for him to face, a relatively small, beautiful woman with long, flowing locks and sharp, sculpted features in the possession of a lethal weapon which she fires with a savage focus and indeed impressively hits the necessary targets. she wonders how long it'd taken alejandro to adjust to such a woman, honeyed and feminine and captivating but equally brutal and devastating. it's reasonably up for debate whether he ever had. ¿he dicho que pares? he boldly asks, ( did i say to stop? ) and valeria doesn't appreciate his tone, his reprimand — it leads her to impatiently fire her entire clip, though no less meticulously, into each available target. perfect fucking headshots.

@vaquerros asked: " i missed you. "

like a jaguar caught in a trap, she waits each day for the poacher to decide whether to shoot her for profit or bang on her metaphorical bars — hoping to startle her. instead, it appears he's content to watch from afar, to study and observe. is he mesmerised? it'd been days since los vaqueros had shut her away in here, a common prisoner with no light and no company. except for his. is it strategic? does alejandro hope that, by plaguing her with his presence each day, she'll submit and plead guilty? beg for forgiveness? no, he must know it doesn't work like that — she doesn't work like that.

it's difficult to understand the purpose of these visits. whether he savours them, a form of self-indulgence, or an act of misplaced guilt. his gaze does not hold the same volatile thrill and unwavering fury it'd first possessed when they'd been reunited. his jaw slackens here and there with the odd huff and easing shift even. does he like this? having access to her when his morals allow it. does it provide him with a sense of power, to leer and loom through the flap in her cell door? perhaps he longs to be in there with her but is unable to risk the likelihood of her clawing his features into a muddled mess of despair... yearns the contact they used to share.

valeria isn't opposed to it, wouldn't admit such until it was happening but only if she could avoid the familiar hook of his passion — luring her into suffocating responsibility. no, she'd overcome that part of her life. her heart shall no longer suffer captivity. out of the handful of times he'd dropped by, they'd either argued, remained silent or — like now, shared cautious but comfortable conversation. the two of them had always been so good at that, mutuality, neutrality. like they were together again, seated side by side on the hood of a truck sharing stories and staring up at the sky. except there is no sky, in here. just cold, hard ceiling with someone else's illegible words scratched into it via a stray rock or piece of metal. the light from the door enables her to see it better.

something he'd said had led her to making a remark, a reference to a scenario they'd once encountered together. " estabas tan preocupada por mí ( you were so worried about me, ) empezó a sacar toda esta mierda médica ( started pulling out all this medical shit. ) pero fue sólo una pinche quemadura ( but it was just a fucking burn, ) " valeria talks away, partly to herself, as she relives the memory. it's followed up with a bark of laughter, head shaking and she nearly misses it — the subtle hum she could never wipe from her mind. fondness, amusement, exasperation, all rolled into one. sharp eyes fix on him, chin tilting upwards. " ¿qué es? ( what is it? ) "

te he echado de menos, alejandro replies, after a considerable pause. it's unexpected, undeserved really but, in some ways, it's fucking cruel. she can't explain why, can't navigate the emotions it triggers. the nerve of him. was this a joke? is he mocking her? thinks he can play her in here... valeria is not the woman she once was. the two share a lot in common, her former and present self, but they're very different. for him to suggest there's a semblance of similarity there, to compare and recognise, as though he's not talking to el sin nombre herself but rather simply valeria — her instinct is to defend and protect.

@vaquerros asked: " we have no relationship, i owe you nothing. "

there are intervals of silence, during her escort to the prison, save for the tame exchange of words between alejandro and rodolfo. how ironic, for them to be together like this once again — sharing this vehicle like the old days. whether they were good days is debatable, at least for her. but, it's nostalgic nevertheless, thus she drinks in every detail from her seat in the back where an unfortunate vaquero she's not been acquainted with also resides, watching over her.

funny to think alejandro went out of his way to ensure it wasn't him. perhaps to keep himself from throttling her, not that valeria believes he'd ever do such a thing. doesn't mean she wouldn't like to see it, however. to tempt fate... have his hands changed, since she last felt them? his grip certainly hasn't. " ¡prisión! qué emocionante ( prison! how exciting, ) " she barks, leaning forward in her seat knowing alejandro's directly in front of her. from here, he can't turn and face her without some effort, meaning she suffices with steady glares and glances in the mirror, but he seems reluctant to give her even that.

a show is made regardless, rich tone snuffing out any hope for them that she might be unnerved or rattled by her situation. it means nothing to her, as per usual — it's all a fucking game. " será mejor que tus hombres me traten bien, alejandro ( your men better treat me well, alejandro. ) soy una especie de gran cosa ( i'm kind of a big deal. ) " how impressive for los vaqueros to have finally caught el sin nombre after all this time! valeria is certain they'll be revelling in it and they'd better enjoy it, as it won't be for long. " tal vez me arropes por la noche ( maybe you'll tuck me in at night. ) que me debes, después de lo que me acabas de hacer pasar ( you owe me, after what you just put me through. ) "

no tenemos ninguna relación, no te debo nada, comes his inflamed reply and it only forces her smile to fester into a grin. " aw, pobre pinche soldado, tan emocional ( poor fucking soldier, so emotional. ) contrólate, alejandro ( control yourself, alejandro. ) " his rejection doesn't bite her the way he likely hopes it will; denial refusal to accept this truth keeps her comfortable. how could he possibly move on from her? no one did. once cut by her she maintained her mark, no matter how much the scar paled. although, truth be told, there's an unacknowledged pleasure gained from seeing him again, from speaking to him. seeing him seethe at her every breath.

@vaquerros asked: “ i told you not to come in here. ”

never one to stick to a crowd, valeria had departed from her teammates' celebrations over their latest successful mission, in search of a missing face. she's not sure what drives her to search, whether it be the promise of continued conflict — war barely quenched her thirst for a fight, or because she wanted to check on him. could it be a little of both? it always proved difficult to adjust, returning to base after exposure to such danger and violence. being told not to follow and to keep out made it all the more difficult, naturally. his order had been read as a challenge, a dare — like there's going to be a prize for disobeying him.

lips purse as hands curl around the doorframe to their comms room and she leans, peeking in. it's like a game of hide and seek for her, a low-building sensation of stalking her prey. alejandro is lingering at the table, a map and detailed plans scattered across it, palms pressed to the surface and shoulders hunched, focused on the intel. would he have liked to have achieved more? had something unexpected come up? valeria makes a point of not announcing her presence, mesmerised by his, for once, inattentiveness. so rarely does she get the chance to observe him, without his focus somewhat being on her.

nevertheless, as she draws closer her arms are slowly wrapped around his waist. te dije que no entraras aquí, he responds gruffly, shifting at the contact. he's definitely fucking brooding, she decides. " ¿y pensabas que funcionaría? ( and you thought it would work? ) " it's all part of the fun. had he said nothing, she likely wouldn't have come looking but how often did she conform to him? he should've known better. perhaps it was intentional, did he want her to seek him out? " ¿pasa algo? ( is something wrong? ) " chin rests on his shoulder, as best as she can reach, and lips lift into a pout — tone pledging innocence, smooth.

@vaquerros asked: “ you can act tough all you want… ”

valeria doesn't interrupt him as he addresses her. explains her situation, the unfolding of events she wasn't aware of — having been locked up in a fucking shipping container. many of the corrupt officers living within las almas were dead, murdered by shadow company in cold blood. diego had been taken out, back at his property. he's dead, killed during the hunt for el sin nombre. it's this that hits hardest for her, irritates the boulder of fury that sits heavy in her chest. but she's never been one to explode, to lash out, rip and tear — not unless it was to survive. valeria is far too intelligent to lose control, preferring to disconnect from the trigger and turn her back on the irritant except in here, in this godforsaken fucking cell, she has nothing but the cold, hard walls and alejandro.

he's smart to keep his distance, despite the barrier between them, his venomous expression leering through the door's flap. but if she's fast enough, she thinks she could get to him. grasp and clutch at his throat, dig in her nails... though her boots remain fixed to the floor. diego was her lieutenant, a dearly trusted individual; she'd known him since her exile from special forces. since her feigned corruption. he'd stood by her, reliably. granted it was likely for his own benefit but he was loyal above all else. consistent, in her chaotic life.

she'd not had that in so long and now? it was just her again. just her and the remaining survivors. no one she held close connections with, not like diego, none who would follow her so eagerly without question. none who could withstand her force, her taste for violence and balance her out. her silence prompts his words and she's curious if he thinks he's gotten to her. still, valeria flashes her teeth at alejandro. " duro? ( tough? ) " tone is measured, cautious, it doesn't reveal anything to him. " nada de esto es duro. ( none of this is tough. ) ¿sabes por qué, alejandro? ( do you know why, alejandro? ) porque es jodidamente fácil. ( because it's fucking easy. ) "

in a beat, she rises to her feet and approaches, unbound hands coming to press clammy palms against the door — he should know full well it'd be his chest, were there nothing blocking her path. " pobre vaquero de mierda. ( poor fucking cowboy. ) ¿creías que esto me afectaría? ( did you think this would affect me? ) " an empty laugh is forced out, booming and untame. " nada me afecta. ( nothing affects me. ) ni siquiera tú. ( not even you. ) " tongue swipes across lips to wet them, frowning playfully at him through the small gap.

@vaquerros asked: he's staring at her, but thinks he's gazing stoically..

lips purse and gaze drifts, she's so nonchalant about her feigned obliviousness it's impressive. this wasn't unusual for alejandro, intense stare fixed upon her like a swelling wave and sometimes, but only sometimes, she feels he's going to crash over her and swallow her whole into the depths of his irises. it's a tempting fate, truthfully, debates the lengths he'd go to for her. how far can she push him? lure him. how deep does his soul go? is it shallower than she assumes? his attention is crushing, suffocating — intoxicating. so easily, she could leave... but she doesn't.

perhaps he's curious of her total lack of apparent bother as she scrubs the blood of a now-deceased teammate from her vest, making sure to get in between the creases. it's nothing she's not seen before. in fact, there's something about the smell that draws her in, has her more invested in the task. valeria is wholly aware she's being watched, however. savours the silent audience, is curious what he thinks when he perceives her. certainly thinks alejandro enjoys the game of it, of thinking he's not been caught out.