(no subject)

[fireinthehole]

That was unpleasant.

And yet Boyd, like so many, cannot help but pick at a sore spot. And he wants to know what that was -- that thing that's left him with a bullet in his pocket to turn over and over in his hand.

It's what he's doing at the bar right now. There's a drink at his right hand, to assist in thinking. The bullet can and will be palmed.

And Boyd is ready, if it happens again.

Comments

[fireinthehole]

Dust-dry:

"Anything he don't like."

[cutting_edgex23]

"That is not a very specific parameter."

She pauses for a moment.

"For people who do not know him. Your ghost."

[fireinthehole]

"Well, specificity never was one of his strong suits."

[cutting_edgex23]

"I do not think it is yours, either."

She calls them like she sees them.

[fireinthehole]

Boyd gives her a level look.

"I already told you I'm not pressing charges. What incentive I got to be specific?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"I do not know why else you told me," X says, matter-of-factly.

"If it was not to stop him. Or make him go away."

[fireinthehole]

"I told you," he says, "to see if it was just me or if someone else had this happen. And now I know."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Okay."

X looks a little dubious.

Still --

"It would be better. If you did not get killed. Here."

Just so he knows.

[fireinthehole]

A silent half-laugh. Boyd doesn't look amused.

"Well, Miss X, I'll endeavor to get killed elsewhere, then."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Okay."

She finishes her root beer float quickly, then slips off the barstool.

"Good."

And, unless he has other pressing business to address, or any other questions --

She's going to find a corner table and establish herself as on-shift for Security.

It is about that time.