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[stand_unshaken]

 

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[stand_unshaken]

"Get your damn hands off of my belongings," he presses him, a little more firmly now. "Before I throw you out of here."

audio

[stand_unshaken]

Don't know 'em much, but that could easily change. Let me know, Misty- I just gotta let Tess know, too.

[stand_unshaken]

"Huh."

He takes it without really thinking about it. Food is food, and you'd best stock up while you can.

"Man of many talents, ain't you?"

[questionsonly]

"So I've been told," he says cheerfully enough, but that's not what he's here for. Which is why he tilts his head towards the hallway. "What can I do for you?"

[stand_unshaken]

He tucks the cookie into a breast pocket, and steps one more step into the closet.

"Start big, I figure. Debris, put things where they ought to be goin'. Then we can see about fixin' things, cleaning things. I got- gloves over here, I'm pretty sure."

He fishes his ring of keys out of a different pocket, and unlocks the cabinet- only to stop short.

"...huh. Now that don't look like no gloves to me."

[omniavincit]

“I guess that's what you'll be doing,” William murmurs—almost serene, his hands continuing their work. He secures the folded map under his free arm and turns to face the other man. Again that moment of scrutiny, although this time it's the photographs he keeps in mind. Estimating years, accounting for wear and tear.

“Mister...?”

[stand_unshaken]

His jaw clenches, and so does his fist. When William turns around with Arthur's map under his damn arm, he reaches out and grabs him by the collar.

"None-of-your-business."

He definitely has the air of a man who will punch you in the nose.

[omniavincit]

William rocks back on his feet. There's a still second, a moment hollowed out from time. The lamplight flickering, the other man's features given the eerie cast of a landscape during a lightning storm. He can smell him: faintly, inexplicably medicinal.

William lunges forward and bashes the lamp into the other man's head. Throws it to the ground after.

He draws his gun as the light dies and fires into the dark.

[stand_unshaken]

He hasn't exactly gone soft in the past few month, but there's been a decided lack of bar brawls on the Bare. He wasn't expecting this buttoned-up fellow to grab his lamp and hit him over the damn head. The sudden darkness is startling, and the following gun-shot deafening. He's sure he'll hit him, sure he'll at least lose an uncomfortable amount of blood--

As he's scrabbling up to go after him in one more attempt to save his belongings from whoever this madman really is, he can feel that he's not actually bleeding. It hurts, but it's like he's taken a hammer to him instead of a gun. "Get-- back-- here!"

[omniavincit]

He aims a hard kick at the source of the noise—that's all it is now, noise—and shoots him again for good measure.

After that, he's gone.

[shadowsran]

She high maintenance, or do you worry?

[You big ol' softie warden, and/or average warden with a very troublesome inmate.]

[stand_unshaken]

[He snorts.]

Not high maintenance whatsoever. I just worry- she got killed towards the end there.

[shadowsran]

[Oof.]

Her first? Handling it alright?

[stand_unshaken]

Ah, as alright as you can. She's stubborn, wanted right out of the infirmary.

[shadowsran]

Guess I'm not shocked there, she doesn't strike me as much of a layabout. Some people don't have it in them even when they ought to, eh?

[HM?]

[stand_unshaken]

You ain't as subtle as you think you are, Day.

[shadowsran]

Y'know what I am, though? Totally right.

[You can HEAR the grin.]

[stand_unshaken]

Yeah, yeah. You just let me know if we're going to go camping or no.

[questionsonly]

He's going to lean a little so that he can see what isn't 'gloves' because he's very very curious.

[stand_unshaken]

What isn't gloves is about two dozen bottles of clearly home-brewed booze. He's got one forearm braced against the closet and has stepped aside to let Warren see.

"How 'bout that?"

[questionsonly]

That gets a bit of eye widening.

"Well."

He's very curious about that. Both who put it there, who's making it, and whether the quality of the hooch is anything to shake a stick at.

"How about that indeed."

[shadowsran]

Verdict's in and a yes, the four of us are heading out after lunch.

Gonna be great.

[Excited? Excited.]

[stand_unshaken]

He runs a hand over his beard and shakes his head. "Stupid place to hide hooch. Don't know about it, either?"

[stand_unshaken]

That was quick.

Alright, I'll grab what I still got out here and meet y'all there.

[dog_eat_dog]

She hates the silent treatment. It never takes longer than a day or two for her to get antsy with it. Slightly less than, in this case; there's not much else to distract herself with, and it's not like she was wounded in any way that justifies making herself scarce to lick her wounds. She'd thrown around the idea of starting shit somewhere just to make him come to her, pick a fight, do something stupid, but none of it seemed remotely productive.

She was the one stepping on toes, and she knows that. That's on her. It's her bridge to mend.

So she turns up outside his door and knocks. As per usual, incessantly.