Hell, it's been a day.
Seems like all the cattle (alright, three) just felt like calving at near the same time--whether in solidarity or for some other reason Jack's got no clue, but between four-in-the-morning fights with creatures three times his size and a hell of a lot stronger, feeding the newborns and making sure they get checked out all
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There's the sound of boots on the ground behind him, the smell of burning tobacco and peaches, and then Desire's hanging a heel on the fancing's lowest rung. "Evening, Jack. Long time."
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Hell, he's getting to feel downright comfortable with the golden-eyed gent, though there's an air of wistfulness (and that's just as usual) about his greeting. "A while, sure."
He don't ask what brings Desire to Shadow. Hell, what brings any of the Endless anywhere? It's too far above Jack's head to know, that's for damn sure.
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There's a moment that seems almost awkward, Desire's hands fidgeting with his cigarette, his pockets, his lighter. He takes to flipping it open and shut pale fingers dancing through the flame as it appears and vanishes.
"How've you been, Jack?"
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(Of course, then there's the way he stares off into the gathering dusk, blue eyes wide and jaw set in that stubborn way he's got.)
"Didn't think I'd be getting a visit from you anytime soon, though." He tosses it off, but truth is, he's a little surprised he ain't heard from the golden-eyed sonuvvabitch...considering last few times he'd been in the bar. Months ago, but he still gets a little wistful thinking about that drink he owes Hero.
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Desire scuffs his foot against the rail, as if knocking away loose clumps of imaginary mud. It's a stalling tactic, plain as the snap shut of the lighter. "Got something to tell you that can't wait 'til we're next in Milliways."
Beat.
Casting a wry grin at the skyline, Desire even looks away from Jack and down, as if sheepish.
Does Desire get sheepish?
"Imagine you won't want to talk to me if I don't tell you. That important."
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It ain't much of a lead, maybe; but then again, when's Desire ever asked for an invitation? And hell...they're sorta friends, in a way, ain't they? Talking about their kids and smoking cigarettes right down to the filter--though it ain't happened in a while, Jack remembers. Desire could say--and will say, and has said--damn near anything he wants to Jack.
So how come the hesitation now?
"Lay it on me, podner, I got no place to go but back to my bunk."
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"It's about Ennis."
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His cigarette twitches in suddenly nerveless fingers, but then Jack's all blazing blue eyes and set jaw and pale face when he turns to Desire, one hand fisting on the top railing, regardless of splintering wood against knuckles.
"What the fuck about Ennis?" Accusatory, and a little jealous: "It you been makin' Sallie see things lately?"
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"Well." Desire's voice is calm as anything, though perhaps pointedly still not looking at Jack. "He wanted to come back. -- So he did."
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It just ain't so. So Jack's figurin' (now that he's used to disappoinments) that the Endless means the second one. "Not like that. He ain't...hauntin' this place. Ennis wouldn'ta wanted to come back like that."
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"I mean he's in Milliways." He coughs once, eyes the ember on the end of his cigarette.
"He's Bound."
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Throws, more like--or at least the burning stub is sent flying when Jack catapults himself away from the fence, hat tipping back on his head and breath coming fast and hard.
It takes him about twenty seconds to get into the dark house (and where the hell is Sallie so damn late? but that don't hardly even register at all), slamming the front door and the pantry one behind him.
Didn't even say "goodbye" to Desire, neither.
Some people got no manners.
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"Shit, Jack," Desire says, wiping hisherits golden eyes and slipping between the rails to stomp out the lit cigarette smoldering away.
"Good luck, m'friend."
And as quickly as Desire was there, Desire's gone.
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