For shotgun_waltz: Kissing Meme reply
(ooc - pobviously bulked up and added backstory - the part where he knew JOhn before running into the boys and let's just say Jo is eighteen at least)
The Trickster must have been feeling ballsy tonight. There he was, pretty as you please, waltzing into Harvelle's Roadhouse, just like he belonged. Came with the territory. Right there in the fine print, it was imperative that he gamble with fate and tempt it like he owned it. He'd been sneaking in here in disguise for as long as he could remember, since the night he followed John out of boredom.
Whistling to 'One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer' by Thorogood, he counted a two score and five of hunters in various stages of drunkenness. It was too good to be true. He had to count coup. Just a little something something to let them know he had been there.
As he was thinking, he was soon distracted; cute little heart shaped patootie, fresh as a daisy. Reminded him of the barkeep if she were twenty five years younger.
"So, Daisy Duke, Mind if I have this dance?"
"Hey bud, my name ain't Daisy Duke and you go back to your hunter buddies or my mom is gonna kick your a..." He watched her eyes went wide as she realized he was no hunter. Before she could sound the alarm, he planted a big old kiss on the mouth, much like the one Clarke Gable gave Vivien Leigh.
Picture. Perfect. Americana at its finest.
Complete with the sound of about thirty different sets of firearms cocked and readily aimed at him.
"Well, little lady," said in a John Wayne voice. Tipping a hat that suddenly appeared on his head, he winked.
"It's been a real pleasure. You take care now and give old Ellen my best. Tell her Trickster said hello." And with that, he disappeared amidst a hail of gun fire.
The Trickster must have been feeling ballsy tonight. There he was, pretty as you please, waltzing into Harvelle's Roadhouse, just like he belonged. Came with the territory. Right there in the fine print, it was imperative that he gamble with fate and tempt it like he owned it. He'd been sneaking in here in disguise for as long as he could remember, since the night he followed John out of boredom.
Whistling to 'One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer' by Thorogood, he counted a two score and five of hunters in various stages of drunkenness. It was too good to be true. He had to count coup. Just a little something something to let them know he had been there.
As he was thinking, he was soon distracted; cute little heart shaped patootie, fresh as a daisy. Reminded him of the barkeep if she were twenty five years younger.
"So, Daisy Duke, Mind if I have this dance?"
"Hey bud, my name ain't Daisy Duke and you go back to your hunter buddies or my mom is gonna kick your a..." He watched her eyes went wide as she realized he was no hunter. Before she could sound the alarm, he planted a big old kiss on the mouth, much like the one Clarke Gable gave Vivien Leigh.
Picture. Perfect. Americana at its finest.
Complete with the sound of about thirty different sets of firearms cocked and readily aimed at him.
"Well, little lady," said in a John Wayne voice. Tipping a hat that suddenly appeared on his head, he winked.
"It's been a real pleasure. You take care now and give old Ellen my best. Tell her Trickster said hello." And with that, he disappeared amidst a hail of gun fire.