Well, speaking as someone who wound up slinging drinks out of a sheer lack of other marketable job skills, I’d say you’ve got the first and most important part down already. [ Her gaze does drop to his hand then, with the flexing of his fingers; she hasn’t made a point to stare at the visible scars that run along the back of each digit but his movement draws her attention for a brief moment before it returns to his face. ]
Oh, sure, they’ve tried. [ Once her glass is secured in her hand again, she doesn’t sip from it right away, instead letting it idle in favor of mulling out loud, her mouth absently twisting to one side. ]
Or so I’m guessing. We Earps are known for many things, but thorough bullet journaling isn’t one of them. [ Waves is the one who’s done most of the research pertaining to the curse, and even her studious sister had only been able to unearth some info about the curse’s origins, much of it vague and non-helpful. ] Any chance of breaking the curse probably lies with the demon who laid it down to begin with. Bulshar. Used to go by Sheriff Clootie before he went the fire and brimstone route. He’d just rolled back into town right before I left.
[ More like “was forcibly kidnapped against her will.” The thought that her friends have all been left to deal with the motherfucker who started it all, with her not there to protect them, definitely earns a couple gulps from her glass, her jaw tensing visibly. ]
[ there's a moment where he understands implicitly the danger of having been snatched up just as the harbinger of some ill came to town: stephen watches her jaw tense, the movement of whiskey down her throat, all suggestive of some immediate danger. ]
Can your people look after themselves?
[ her friends, her family. wynonna can, certainly, at least by most superficially observable metrics; that might is obvious just by looking at her, speaking with her for more than five minutes. but that protective streak in her runs deep and wide, and didn't just spring up fully formed from the earth. ]
[ She cuts herself off, realizing that her tone's a little harsher than she intended — not directed at him, of course, but more towards the situation and the relative helplessness it conjures up for her whenever she stops to dwell on it. A sigh drops into the silence that follows, and her mouth twists. ]
They don't have this, for starters. [ She stretches out her other hand toward the gun that still sits on the counter between them, close enough to let her fingertips touch the long barrel and feeling that small rush of its power that comes whenever she's in direct contact. ]
So it's hard, knowing they're there without the one thing that could seriously tip the scales, give them a W. [ Knowing they're without her is what she won't say, because as the heir, she's pretty replaceable, if not expendable. ]
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no subject
Oh, sure, they’ve tried. [ Once her glass is secured in her hand again, she doesn’t sip from it right away, instead letting it idle in favor of mulling out loud, her mouth absently twisting to one side. ]
Or so I’m guessing. We Earps are known for many things, but thorough bullet journaling isn’t one of them. [ Waves is the one who’s done most of the research pertaining to the curse, and even her studious sister had only been able to unearth some info about the curse’s origins, much of it vague and non-helpful. ] Any chance of breaking the curse probably lies with the demon who laid it down to begin with. Bulshar. Used to go by Sheriff Clootie before he went the fire and brimstone route. He’d just rolled back into town right before I left.
[ More like “was forcibly kidnapped against her will.” The thought that her friends have all been left to deal with the motherfucker who started it all, with her not there to protect them, definitely earns a couple gulps from her glass, her jaw tensing visibly. ]
no subject
Can your people look after themselves?
[ her friends, her family. wynonna can, certainly, at least by most superficially observable metrics; that might is obvious just by looking at her, speaking with her for more than five minutes. but that protective streak in her runs deep and wide, and didn't just spring up fully formed from the earth. ]
no subject
[ She cuts herself off, realizing that her tone's a little harsher than she intended — not directed at him, of course, but more towards the situation and the relative helplessness it conjures up for her whenever she stops to dwell on it. A sigh drops into the silence that follows, and her mouth twists. ]
They don't have this, for starters. [ She stretches out her other hand toward the gun that still sits on the counter between them, close enough to let her fingertips touch the long barrel and feeling that small rush of its power that comes whenever she's in direct contact. ]
So it's hard, knowing they're there without the one thing that could seriously tip the scales, give them a W. [ Knowing they're without her is what she won't say, because as the heir, she's pretty replaceable, if not expendable. ]