OOM: Oakville, Texas, 1888. Dinner.

[the_gene_genie]

Even by 70s standards, this place is basic. But it looks brilliant to him, because it's real - proper, authentic Old West chairs, and tables; wooden floor and burning candles, and the smell of the desert right outside the door. It'll do him. Anything else just wouldn't be the same.

They're shown to a table and he makes sure to sit opposite her. All very proper. There doesn't seem to be too many other people here, which is good, because he hasn't yet worked out what counts as inappropriate for her, and it'd be all too easy for him to open his big trap and say the wrong thing. All too easy to mess this up, and get her into trouble.

As soon as a waiter comes near, he says, 'Whiskey. Double, no ice. Two of 'em.'

The food can wait until after.

Comments

[ikissdhimbck]

She opens her mouth, halfway into what's becoming a habitual recantation before she stops and sharply switches gears.

"Jus' shut your mouth."

For the love of peace.

"I wasn't complainin'. An' I didn't mean it that way."

Voice still calm, though not as even as it was before. He's dismissing her, and that is more insulting than anything else. She smooths her clothes into place and steps away from the wall, leaving not because he told her to but because now she wants to.

"For your information, I enjoyed tonight up until this... fiasco. I can't possibly know what's goin' on in your head. And, for the record, what I said before — 'bout what I grew up 'expectin''? — wasn't an ultimatum. I was jus' openin' up t'you. I ain't ever gonna have that. An' I don't expect it, not from you or anybody else. If I did, I wouldn't be here. But I am here. With you, as it happens. Not any of the nameless dudes who've come after me before."

Once the words are out she thinks shit, he'll probably take that the wrong way too. But until they figure out how to go about understanding each other, there's nothing to be done for it. She heads for the door, leaving him to his whiskey and his sleep.

[the_gene_genie]

He almost says something after her - for a milisecond, it crosses his mind to tell he enjoyed it too, up until this. But no, he's not going to say that.

He doesn't know how many ways there are left to tell her. He likes her, he cares about her, he wants to be here with her. He's told her with his actions, he thinks, and he's told her in words and she still says she doesn't know what's going on in his head. So the problem seems to be just that she doesn't - won't, or can't - believe him. He doesn't know what to do about that, and, for tonight at least, isn't inclined to try.

'Sod this,' he mutters, and stands up, grabs his jacket off the floor. There's a bar down there, and people (women), and he'll be damned if he's going to waste his time in the West sitting up here in his room.



....he supposes he shouldn't be surprised when Milliways shows up at the door. Perhaps it's for the best.