eschatclcgy
Walker's dark ears prick forward as he notices the delay in her response.
His curious and open expression is colored briefly by concern, before he shifts back into work mode.
"I can provide more than one kinda company, darlin'," he says warmly, and he can't help a chuckle at the multiple ways that's true.
He's had an unusually slow day so he lets his heart take the wheel over his wallet. He leans in, joining the woman against the bartop and mirroring her position.
"I'm Walker," he says, tipping the brim of his hat politely with his free hand.
"If you'll forgive me, you look about as low as a snake's belly in a wagon rut. I got me two good ears-" He pauses, considering his partial deafness, and corrects himself.
"I Got the one good ear, at least, and you're welcome to fill it."
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Oh dear; perhaps Sable has more of a type than she thinks. She does find it hard to resist a surprising gentleness from behind a grizzled face. Of course the sensible thing would be to tell him, firmly but politely, that the offer is appreciated but unnecessary, and it's time for him to move on. But he holds her gaze, and speaks patiently in a voice of bourbon and honey, and Sable feels that urge disintegrate.
"Sable," she introduces herself in turn, faintly amused by the hat tipping and the cowboy talk. Is this who he really is, she wonders, or just a persona that he puts on for the punters? "You'll think I'm a cliche. Sitting alone at a bar feeling sad about my ex-husband." It feels pathetic even to say it. The reality is complex, but if she boils it right down to the basics? That's what's going on. Difficult to take pride in herself, to see herself as a strong and dignified Councillor, when she sits here nursing a glass of wine moping about a man who broke her heart years ago. @eschatclcgy
