(Eventually) In the Bar: Valentines Day

[ikissdhimbck]

She can't make the targets fall.

No matter how hard she concentrates, she can't even see the tin can soldiers lined up beyond the trembling barrel of the Colt in her hand. It's quiet out at the range on a cold afternoon, but her ears ring with a cacophony of shaking iron and rushing blood, echoing like drums in her head

Comments

[themanclion]

'S'up with you? You look like one o'your horses just kicked you in th'...'

No. He's not going to say it.

'...tits.'

Or maybe he is.

(He's on his third double of the afternoon.)

[ikissdhimbck]

"Charmin', Gene."

He gets a true, hard glare.

(No matter what he says, she'll never ever admit to the twitch at the corner of her mouth.)

"I'm frustrated. Can't seem t'keep a steady hand on my gun, an' I keep misfirin'."

She stalks up to the stool beside him, and shoots him a catlike grin before sitting down.

"I'm sure that's a problem you're well acquainted with."

[themanclion]

His eyebrows go right up.

'Can' say it is, luv. The Gene Genie always shoots straight.'

He's pretty sure they're talking about the same thing here but just in case, that should cover all bases.

'Straight, an' right on cue.'

[ikissdhimbck]

She tugs at her gloves, one soft leather finger at a time.

But there's nothing remotely suggestive about the movement, of course.

"Leavin' a succession of satisfied menfolk in your wake, I'm sure."

She has, after all, seen the posters in Gene's room.