In his mind he's Lancelot the knight
Prompt: 'First'
Their first real case ended in a bar fight. It had been bloody, violent, and perfectly synchronized with the hit of a large blonde idiots head skipping the hard hitting beat shaking the dingy bars walls.
That was when they had found a camaraderie that at first was a tentative suspicion born out of the fact that, for once Tabitha Smith had recognized a Wendigo before it killed off to many children, tracked it down to the woods and almost got shot in the face by one very attractive Mexican.
“You know, just because you figured it out before me bonita does not mean you get to travel with me.” They had been sipping at their drinks, his a classic muddy brown bottle of Guinness, and hers a neon blue fruit cocktail that tasted vaguely like bubblegum and blueberry.
“And just cause you got the first shot doesn’t mean I’m all that impressed mister.” She had been leaning forward, her low slung top showing off the tan she had acquired during that trip to Boca to fight some rather nasty swamp creatures that had migrated during the winter, and distracting her companion in a deliciously aware way. Tabby was good at many things; but her best talents definitely leaned towards the sinful side of the underworld.
“Well we’ll have to fix that wont we?” Ric had leaned forward, his accent thick with intention and his hand drawing delicious little circles across her slim wrists, her lips had drawn into a sexy little smirk, anticipating a teasing kiss until some big stupid drunk redneck grasped her shoulder and slurred that he’d love to see what’s ‘between her legs’. When asked for an apology by one rather unamused Rictor, the idiot had laughed and said that the ‘lady’ wasn’t worth it, Ric promptly took his beer bottle and set it carefully on the table took his right hand and knocked the big bastard on his ass with one hard punch to the jaw.
His big and ugly buddies had jostled from their drunken stupors, circling around Tabby and Rictor with anger, pool sticks, and broken beer bottles. Sweet home Alabama playing on the
jukebox in a hilariously appropriate manner as the two hunters unconsciously moved to stand back to back just as the uglies closed in.
Fists flew, kicks round housed into much larger men’s chests, and Rictor and Tabitha fought with everything they had finding a common ground as they played off one another’s strengths-her flexibility and his killer right hook.
As the two walked side by side- Tabitha’s hands wandering to sit gently in Rictors back pocket- stepping over the fallen bodies strewn across the bar, Ric slapped a 1oo dollar bill in front of the bartender and pulled Tabitha into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead and grinning. “Alright bonita, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you get away from me now.”
The rest as they say, in every cliché ending was history .
Their first real case ended in a bar fight. It had been bloody, violent, and perfectly synchronized with the hit of a large blonde idiots head skipping the hard hitting beat shaking the dingy bars walls.
That was when they had found a camaraderie that at first was a tentative suspicion born out of the fact that, for once Tabitha Smith had recognized a Wendigo before it killed off to many children, tracked it down to the woods and almost got shot in the face by one very attractive Mexican.
“You know, just because you figured it out before me bonita does not mean you get to travel with me.” They had been sipping at their drinks, his a classic muddy brown bottle of Guinness, and hers a neon blue fruit cocktail that tasted vaguely like bubblegum and blueberry.
“And just cause you got the first shot doesn’t mean I’m all that impressed mister.” She had been leaning forward, her low slung top showing off the tan she had acquired during that trip to Boca to fight some rather nasty swamp creatures that had migrated during the winter, and distracting her companion in a deliciously aware way. Tabby was good at many things; but her best talents definitely leaned towards the sinful side of the underworld.
“Well we’ll have to fix that wont we?” Ric had leaned forward, his accent thick with intention and his hand drawing delicious little circles across her slim wrists, her lips had drawn into a sexy little smirk, anticipating a teasing kiss until some big stupid drunk redneck grasped her shoulder and slurred that he’d love to see what’s ‘between her legs’. When asked for an apology by one rather unamused Rictor, the idiot had laughed and said that the ‘lady’ wasn’t worth it, Ric promptly took his beer bottle and set it carefully on the table took his right hand and knocked the big bastard on his ass with one hard punch to the jaw.
His big and ugly buddies had jostled from their drunken stupors, circling around Tabby and Rictor with anger, pool sticks, and broken beer bottles. Sweet home Alabama playing on the
jukebox in a hilariously appropriate manner as the two hunters unconsciously moved to stand back to back just as the uglies closed in.
Fists flew, kicks round housed into much larger men’s chests, and Rictor and Tabitha fought with everything they had finding a common ground as they played off one another’s strengths-her flexibility and his killer right hook.
As the two walked side by side- Tabitha’s hands wandering to sit gently in Rictors back pocket- stepping over the fallen bodies strewn across the bar, Ric slapped a 1oo dollar bill in front of the bartender and pulled Tabitha into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead and grinning. “Alright bonita, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you get away from me now.”
The rest as they say, in every cliché ending was history .