Milliversary EP: Kate Barlow | main bar

[ikissdhimbck]

"What're you — "

With a magical chime, Kate's typical attire is replaced by a party dress, fancy lace choker, and matching turquoise-studded black cowboy boots.

"Very funny, ma'am."

All right, she kinda likes the boots. But she's not going without her guns. It takes a brief argument over a few napkins and Kate agreeing to keep the party attire, but her gun belt eventually settles itself back on her hips.

"Thank you kindly. An' take care of this for me, would y'please?"

She tosses an old newspaper down, folded to a heading just briefly visible before Miss Bar disposes of it.
YOUNGER RANCH
YORKTOWN, TX.
Fine bred horses, stock, pigs, goats.

Happy Milliversary! :)

"Thank you, ma'am. 'Nother bottle of bourbon, an' keep 'em comin'."

A large plate of cookies materializes with her order. Well, hell. Now she'll have to find somebody to share them with.


[ooc: Today is Kate's 4th Milliversary! Open indefinitely, and as the cowgirl is a little drunk (and only set to get more so) shenanigans are welcome. ^__^ Note: All threads timed before the one with Tommy Gavin.]

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[ikissdhimbck]

She bites her lip.

God, he isn't good for her. She already knows it. She can feel it in every press of his body, in the self-assured quirk of his mouth. Been there, done that. He's a sport, and he's stubborn, and willful. He keeps meeting her push for push, and that familiarity is intoxicating right now, but he'll eventually get bored. Does it matter? Tonight, of all nights? She has his attention now, so does it really matter?

Jesus, Kate. What are you doing?



"How long have we been sittin' here, talkin'?"

[gavin62truck]

A small smile twists his lips and there's a new glint in his eyes.

"I dunno." He shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant. "Twenty minutes, maybe?"

[ikissdhimbck]

The corner of her mouth twitches.

She lifts her chin. Her eyes look like the ocean at the crack of dawn, green-blue caught under a mist. She presses her ankle into his touch just a little more, inadvertently rubbing the inside of his thigh in the process.

"Think it's about time y'took that hat off?"

[gavin62truck]

Sliding his hand up the side of her boot, his fingertips meet the bare skin of her calf.

His small smile spreads, that wicked spark in his eyes still there even in the shadow of the broad-brimmed hat.

"Mm, think I'll leave it on 'til we get upstairs."

[ikissdhimbck]

Upstairs.

She breathes another laugh, this time choked with nerves. The blush in her face is spreading. However, her inhibitions are obviously damaged; she doesn't pull from his touch or slap his hand away, even though the sensation of skin on skin is not one she's experienced in years.

Right hand still clutching her tumbler, trembling deftly, she disposes of the rest of the liquor with a quick flick of her wrist. The bourbon provides one second of much needed cooling off before it's all burn again.

"Sure."

Upstairs.



She didn't want to be alone anyway.



"All right then."

[gavin62truck]

His expression softens. She's still hesitant. And he doesn't want her to close herself off again.

And she's also drunk.

Normally that wouldn't matter if he were drinking, too, but he isn't...and...well.

Whatever she wants.

If she changes her mind, so be it, but he's going to get her upstairs anyway.

He takes his hand from her leg and offers it to her again, this time to help her down from the stool.

"You okay?"

[ikissdhimbck]

She shoots him a Look, which seems to ask if he honestly thinks that's a smart question, and laughs again.

"I'm jus' fine."

Self-conscious, she looks down and starts to wonder when the ground got so far away. What seems like a second to her is actually several before she accepts his hand, radiating confidence, and slides from her stool.

And stumbles.


Shoot.

"I'm fine."

Maybe if she says it enough, he won't notice that it's completely hogwash.

[gavin62truck]

He just smirks at the Look, and the laugh.

She's not exactly fine, but he's not going to say anything. He only grips her hand firmer when she stumbles, getting up off his stool to stand close to her as she gets her bearings.

And once again, the barstools that had pretty much leveled off their height difference have to be left behind.

It takes a lot to bring Tommy down (foot stuck in a stirrup notwithstanding) and he's not going to object if she has to hold onto him for support.

[ikissdhimbck]

The world's just a little uneven. It takes a moment of standing very, very still (swaying ever so slightly), to clear her head and determine which way is up and which way is down.

Her eyes land on their linked hands.


She runs her thumb across his knuckles slowly, touch cautious and thorough, like she's feeling for something. She tugs to loosen his grip, sliding her hand in his until they're finger to finger, his callouses brushing against hers.

And then she threads her fingers with his, and takes a step toward the stairs.

[gavin62truck]

He remembers what his fingers had wanted to do when their hands first touched outside of a formal handshake. They'd wanted to do this.

Strange. From a distant time. Yet familiar. And needed. Like a swallow of whiskey that warms you from the inside out.

He squeezes her hand in a promise, that at least for tonight, he won't let go.