Kate comes downstairs and approaches the Bar, looking tired and a little worn. Her hair is pleated, her typical cowboy hat left upstairs
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"He's still the only Doc I ever met...thank God...I don't think I could stand another," she chuckles. But then she notices Kate's mood. "I'm sensing the name strikes a nerve with you." She nods. "I don't even have a manager."
"Ah-hmm," remarks Dixie. "So your ex-fella...your Doc...is hanging around like a bad smell?" she wonders. She won't poke Kate on this yet, as the wound seems to be a raw one.
She's stoic on the outside. Her eyes don't stray from her hands, nary a flinch, or a tic; but deep in her heart, in the place where she still loves Josiah Scurlock - and always will - she flares with anger at the smallest scourge to his name.
Beat.
"Somethin' like that."
It's barely audible, and chased with what's left in her glass. She winces, swallowing hard.
"Things here get ... bendy."
She's already starting to tingle, but when she feels the hot prickle of tears at the backs of her eyes she doesn't hesitate to move for the bottle again. It gives her an excuse not to speak, and another when she clears her throat a moment after drinking.
"He runs the stables out back, when he's here. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed. Never finished medical school. Joined up with a gang or two. Got a bounty on his head."
Dixie's lips flatten out into a grimace. "I'm guessing that's the price you pay for visiting a world where there's no time at all." Dixie snorts, shakes her head. "My Doc was a blond, too. Maybe there's something about that name that breeds 'em difficult." Dixie raises an eyebrow at the part about the bounty, but adds nothing further.
Her lips pull into a halfhearted smirk when Dixie agrees with her earlier sentiments, but it doesn't last long.
"Maybe it's just in the circumstances they're exposed to."
It's barely a mumble, and directed at her glass rather than her companion. She's hit with guilt so sharp it kicks at her ribs like a horse's hooves. Tomorrow is their anniversary.
The day they met.
And the day he told her he wanted out.
It's because she did something wrong. She wasn't enough. She let him down.
(You let him die.)
"Anyhow," she exhales, swirling the liquor in her glass. "You're bound t'meet him eventually, 'specially if y'bring your mount in. He's got a certain ... charisma. Makes him easy t'like."
"Can't rightly say," Dixie admits. "Never met my Doc's mother. Thought I met his Pa, but it could've been just another man on his dole."
She wishes Kate would stop torturing herself over it. Or she will, when she learns more about it. "So's Brisco. He could charm the snow off a mountain."
Dixie notices - but, as always, she's not going to pry unless Kate lets her in first.
"I suppose you could call him new," Dixie admits, and she leans on the bar, propping up her chin. "I met him on the trail, while I was singing. He liked how I carry a...tune," she said, pausing for emphasis. "But he wasn't approving of the company I kept. He thought I knew something about a little plan my ex-fella had. He's lucky he was right," she chuckles.
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"There's one here," she says, having another swallow. "My ... my 'ex'."
The words taste bitter, like lemon juice on brass. She swallows, and lifts her glass to her lips again.
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Beat.
"Somethin' like that."
It's barely audible, and chased with what's left in her glass. She winces, swallowing hard.
"Things here get ... bendy."
She's already starting to tingle, but when she feels the hot prickle of tears at the backs of her eyes she doesn't hesitate to move for the bottle again. It gives her an excuse not to speak, and another when she clears her throat a moment after drinking.
"He runs the stables out back, when he's here. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed. Never finished medical school. Joined up with a gang or two. Got a bounty on his head."
It's actually kind of funny, isn't it?
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"Maybe it's just in the circumstances they're exposed to."
It's barely a mumble, and directed at her glass rather than her companion. She's hit with guilt so sharp it kicks at her ribs like a horse's hooves. Tomorrow is their anniversary.
The day they met.
And the day he told her he wanted out.
It's because she did something wrong. She wasn't enough. She let him down.
(You let him die.)
"Anyhow," she exhales, swirling the liquor in her glass. "You're bound t'meet him eventually, 'specially if y'bring your mount in. He's got a certain ... charisma. Makes him easy t'like."
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She wishes Kate would stop torturing herself over it. Or she will, when she learns more about it. "So's Brisco. He could charm the snow off a mountain."
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"An' who is this? A new beau, I take it?"
She shifts, leaning a little harder against the steady bar.
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"I suppose you could call him new," Dixie admits, and she leans on the bar, propping up her chin. "I met him on the trail, while I was singing. He liked how I carry a...tune," she said, pausing for emphasis. "But he wasn't approving of the company I kept. He thought I knew something about a little plan my ex-fella had. He's lucky he was right," she chuckles.
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"How so?"
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