milliways_bar | (no subject)

Abigail sees him go and has to follow. She's curious. Empty bottles didn't seem to be El's thing. "Whatcha doing, cowboy?"

She's left her bow and arrow at home but does have her gun on her thigh.

As he steps outside, he takes in the view. It's his first time out here.

He notices Whistler following him as he drops his guitar case to the ground and walks a bit further away from the bar with his bottles. "Target practice."

"Can I watch?"

She stands near his guitar case, hands shoved in her back pockets. She just watches, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

He lines them up, sixteen bottles, all in a row. Sort of like duckies, but glass.

He walks back to his guitar case and smiles. "You have a gun. Why just watch?"

She smiles, pulling it out. "Alright then. Let's play. How do you wanna do this?" She turns off the safety clicking a bullet into the chamber.

He kneels down and opens the guitar case to reveal the arsenal. He deliberates for a moment before choosing a .44 Magnum Desert Eagle. He kisses the barrel before standing. "We trade off shot for shot and increase the distance after each round. First person to miss has to buy the first round."

"Alright. So you wanna go first?"

She raises an eyebrow in a daring motion. As if thinking this will give her the advantage.

He shrugs. "If the lady wishes." He whirls and shoots, and the far left glass shatters. At this close a distance, he really doesn't need to take the time to aim. "Your turn."

She aims her gun at the next bottle, squeezing the trigger and breaking it herself easily. "Alright. Well round one is a draw."

"I expected no less. Shall we?" The mariachi steps about five yards back and turns to shoot again. Once again, the shot is true.

As he steps aside to make way for Whistler, he says, "Gracias, by the way, for last night. I... am not handling all this well."

"Not a problem. You looked like you needed a friend to look out for you, so I gladly stepped in to do so." She backs up to where he is and carefully aims, popping off another clean hit.

He nods approvingly and starts walking back another five yards. "Friends are not something I have a lot of. Revenge doesn't leave much time for social gathering, you know?"

"Well you've got me now. I don't have too many friends left. So what about women? You got a girl?"

It feels good to be firing a gun again and it shows. She walks back with him, wondering if she's gonna start having trouble soon.

He smirks a bit as he take a moment to aim this time. "Why, are you offering?"

"I wasn't but maybe I could be. I was mostly making conversation. Why? Did you want me to be?"

She holds up her own gun, taking time to get ready for her own shot when he's gotten his off.

"Careful, señorita. My girlfriends don't tend to last very long." He chuckles humorlessly as he shoots. He needs to be more careful about keeping still; the shot clearly just hits the neck, leaving most of the intact.

She takes careful aim, squeezing off a round, hitting it again. Definitely getting harder, though.

"Didn't say I wanted someone involved. But you're a damn good looking fellow."

Her lips purse, as if she's thinking about something. Then she speaks. "My name is Abigail. My first name. Just so you know."

"Abigail." He repeats it to himself as he starts to walk back other five and turns to aim. "You're no' so bad yourself." Damn, did his accent just get thicker?

She follows him, noting he ignored her first comments. But let him. Better than things getting awkward. "Yeah I think I'm gonna owe you a drink after this. But I don't know if I can agree to you getting trashed again tonight."

He closes one eye and sights. "Fair enough. I don't think I can agree to get trashed tonight. My stomach decide to strangle me in my sleep." He squeezes off his shot... and second bottle from the left shatters. "SHIT!"

"Well then. I guess you owe me a drink." She turns to him, patting his stomach. "Poor baby. Maybe you should just have some water."

She shoots him a half-smile, amused at herself.

He quirks an eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. "I'll just get some of that cheap American beer. It might as well be water."

"I'm a Corona drinker myself. Something about the piss taste a guess."

She reholsters her weapon. "You should smile more. It's hot."

Okay, full-on smile at that. "I will try. Shall we?" He gestures towards the bar door.

She notices the smile and turns away from him, heading inside, pulling her hair loose of it's ponytail as she does so and shaking it out. She may be showing off just a little.

He watches her walk away for a moment and smiles a little self-consciously before following.

She strattles a stool, "Corona with lime and a Bud Light." She tells the bar. "On El's tab." She hands the beer to him. "Weak American beer, especially for you."

"You are too kind." El leans the guitar case against the bar beside his seat as he sits down. He takes a long drink of his beer and seems to mull it over. "At least it's cold. Nothing worse than piss-warm beer."

"Me? I'm not kind. Not usually. I don't know why I'm so nice to you."

She sends him a half-smile, tilting her head back and appreciating the cool beer.

"So how old are you?"

She sets the beer on the bar.

He raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Why indeed?"

He leans back against the bar. "I am thirty-two or thirty-three, depending on what date it actually is. I quit keeping track." He looks a little wistful. "My thirtieth birthday was the last one I actually celebrated; Cesar sent me a new guitar."

"Not too old."

She doesn't say for what.

"I'm not thirty yet." She grins, turning her attention back to her beer. Yay for stating the obvious.

He chuckles a bit. "'Not too old'? I like to think not." He finishes off his beer and stretches as he stands. "Sadly, however, my body seems to want to argue. Good night... Abigail."

He lifts his guitar case and starts to walk away... but pauses after a couple of steps. "My name was Miguel. Perhaps, one day soon, it will be again."

"I'm gonna call you it anyway." She smiles at him. Honestly, she was surprised he was just leaving to go sleep. She'd kind of expected him to...well, not just leave.

"It's a good name."

Give him time. Some wound heal slowly.

"It is. Good night. I will see you soon." Another self-conscious smile, and he walks up the stairs.

Well damn. Her ego was basically getting shit on by the guys in this place. Only Dead Pool had wanted a hook up...maybe that's what this was, pay back for her being a shallow bitch because of his looks. Damn now she had way too much excess energy.