milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The door opens to the blinding light of a hot, Texas morning, and a single traveler comes waltzing through. There's something instantly different about this new patron. Unlike most first-time visitors, she doesn't look confused or bewildered, lost or afraid. She walks up to Bar with purpose and confidence, boots clicking against hardwood, spurs whispering softly.

She even looks vaguely familiar, to those with a careful eye.

She stops at the bar, brown fingers gently stroking polished wood, and a quiet, one-sided conversation ensues. But she's not the one speaking; it's the quickly growing pile of napkins that are doing all the talking.

There's a hush in the room -- a quiet sound -- you can barely hear it. Like regret, and innocence, and the breath of a thousand sun-kissed springs, warm summers, harvest fruits. It's courtesy and thankfulness. It's goodbye.

Eventually, a small glass of whiskey appears, and the cowgirl smiles small and crooked. She slides onto a stool, and slowly begins to drink (her free hand tenderly patting the now-quiet Bar).

Goodbye, Katherine Barlow.

Welcome to Milliways, Kissin' Kate.

[tiny!tags: Kissin' Kate Barlow, The Russian Astronaut, Jasper Hale, Jane Austen, Ellen Park, Ben Wade, Charles Monroe]

ooc: ~~With almost immediate slowtimes in effect, as I will need to find dinner soon. But I couldn't wait! *fidgets* XD?~~ Back! Open foreverrrrr.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was the spurs that caught his attention. It reminds him of an old home long forgotten, stirring up ancient memories. And when Jasper looks up for the source, the cowgirl looks and smells so much like Texas that he cannot help but be drawn into her presence. Just a little.

Especially when she clambers onto the next stool over and orders up a whiskey. Ah, memories.

Unlike the confidence this woman brings with her though, Jasper is looking quite uneasy as he taps his pencil against his Biology textbook. As if he was debating something before, as he does, toss caution aside and offers a polite nod of his head.

"Ma'am."

People are frequently drawn to her presence, so it's nothing she can't readily handle. Her eyes narrow ever-so-slightly and ever-so-briefly at that textbook, before they continue on up to his face.

She smiles easily enough.

"Sir," she nods back, although with the politeness there's a tinge of something else. Something almost sarcastic. "Studyin' for something important?"

Jasper's gaze drops to the book before lifting to the woman's face against. His lips twitch in an almost smile. "Not particularly." Not when he's already learned most of this some times over by now.

"It helps to pass the time more than anythin'," he adds, a faded Texan accent peeking through. He cocks his head to the side, eying her drink with an almost longing. He can't even remember what it tastes like anymore. "How's the whiskey?"

"Not half bad," she grins.

She twists slightly in her seat so that she can lean an elbow on the bar top, eyes quietly surveying the young man.

"You want one?"

Her survey might not reveal much else than an awkward boy that drops his gaze and swallows hard. "I think I'll pass. Last time (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/21419333.html) I drank, I woke with a hand broken and no memory of where I'd been the night before."

While the incident might have happened some decades ago for him, it was the truth. Same as with,

"I have never been able to truly appreciate it since."

She arches an eyebrow, and despite herself she giggles a little.

"Sorry," she says. "Used to love brandy, but now the thought of it makes my stomach turn for sim'lar reasons. Funny how the mind works, innit?"

Despite the dropped syllables and relaxed speech, there's still an innate softness to her voice; a phantom politeness one born of good breeding can't fully kick, no matter what.

She looks out on the bar and sips at her whiskey, still smiling despite the way the memory makes her insides curl.

He too laughs. A sharp, clear thing that could bring most anyone to a smile who wasn't already. He's got a funny way of doing that. "Funnier enough, I still like the smell of it. Just the memory keeps me away from it."

Amongst other things, of course.

After a moment and a hesitation, he offers a(n ice cold) hand. "I'm Jasper."

"Reminds me of home," she muses, before turning her attention back to Jasper. "The smell, that is. Reminds me of things back before my own days of schoolin'."

She reaches a hand out to take his, blinking at the touch of cold skin.

"Quite a shake you got there," she says. "Call me Kate."

Jasper just smiles sheepishly at the comment of his shake before his hand retreats and he busies himself with the pencil again. "Mind if I ask where in Texas home is for you? I grew up in Houston myself."

She blinks, knitting her brow together softly.

"Was it my accent that gave it away?" she asks.

Because he couldn't have heard of her yet. Not even if he lived in Houston in her time in her world. Right?

Again, Jasper looks sheepish. Awkwardly, he explains, "Some. I tend to pick up on the accent better than others."

Aside from having amazing inhumane hearing and not having a ring on his finger, "I live up north with my wife and haven't been south of the line in quite sometime. So I hear that accent and it brings me back."

"Ah."

His explanation puts her at ease somewhat, and she nods.

"Was born outside of Heyser, near Victoria county. But you could say I'm in the middle of relocatin' at the moment," she answers at last, offering him an easy smile. "What took you up north?"

"Ah..." Jasper hesitates, not thinking of a lie to tell but how to shorten a long story the best. "There was a woman. And it all went real wrong, real fast with her."

There's a quick bite of guilt in Kate's stomach.

Sam's dead, and Doc is... well, she doesn't know where Doc is, just that he's not in the bar right now.

"Sorry to hear that," she says, sounding genuinely sorry.

He can tell her sincerity without having to hear it. Also that bite of guilt which he doesn't quite understand, only feeling it, and he shakes his head. "Don't be. Leaving led me to my Alice."

He peers at Kate curiously.

"Mind if I ask why you're relocating?"

He wonders if it has to do with the guilt he'd felt from her.

She takes a moment to answer that one, giving him a long-suffering sort of wry smirk.

"Well, y'see Jasper, I ain't exactly welcome back home since I shot the sheriff. Apparently folks in town tend to frown upon that sort of thing."

Go figure.

Most folks might frown upon it, Jasper mostly looks unsure if he should be as amused as he is or not. "Did he deserve it?"

God will punish you!

"More'n the devil himself," she murmurs darkly.

When his lips twitch this time it was not for a smile or grin. Her anger is overwhelming. His hand curls into a fist, nearly breaking the pencil in two. He stares at her, considering.

"It wasn't enough."

It's half question, half statement. As though he doesn't want to make the assumption yet was unable to resist the urge to at the same time.

Her eyes flicker over his face briefly, and he'll be able to feel another rush of strong emotion: surprise and guilt and defensiveness and anger more anger.

(But not at him.)

Her head is turned toward the bar at large, though her gaze is cast to the floor. Her brow crinkled in thought.

"No," she says at last, and there's a subtle difference to her voice. It's solid, more real, less prone to the playfulness and sarcasm of before. "No it wasn't."

The pencil breaks and Jasper drops the broken pieces into the binding of his book. He closes it with a quiet thump and solemn expression. He pokes at the grim mood with a spark of comfort. "Well. I forget where I heard it, but: 'The saints are the sinners who keep on trying'."

Edited 2009-05-02 04:07 (UTC)

The loud snap! draws Kate's attention, blue eyes flashing on that broken pencil before he sets it aside.

She manages to hear his words over the thrum of her heart, but only just barely.

It does make her smirk.

"Don't think nobody's ever called me a 'saint' before, Jasper. Not even when I was still innocent."

Which, honestly, wasn't that long ago.

Jasper hadn't meant to make her heart race. If anything, the rapid beat of it makes him decidedly more uncomfortable and he focuses on the counter top, sucking in a harsh breath. "That would make two of us then."

"You don't look all bad."

She's a little oversensitive at the moment; keyed to the tiniest sounds and movements, looking for weapons and ill intent. He'd startled her some, but she quickly settles down.

"You got a missus waiting on you. That's something."

Of course, she's making the assumption that 'Alice' is his bride.

With a grimace, Jasper blinks out of his trance with the bar top to look up at Kate again. And then he suddenly grins. A ridiculous, sappy thing as just the thought of Alice can chase away the dark thoughts. "Alice is definitely something."