singillatim | open-ish | the... sailor fight....

God, I hear that.

[ She slouches back against the chair, face scrunching up as she thinks of Champ. All swagger and good looks and nothing underneath. ]

Good for decoration and not much else.

Sometimes that is - desirable. But not for long.

Do you have someone at home?

[She doesn't seem the type, but he's been surprised before.]

[ It's her turn to cast her glance down at the tabletop, as her own voice filters into her memory. I think I'm better traveling solo. For now.

One passionate encounter doesn't make a relationship. But it's not only Doc she's thinking of when she says: ]

No.

[ She's been here for months, now; longer than she'd been at home before she got pulled into this place. Wynonna looks back up at him, eyebrows canting up. ]

You?

I've no time for it.

[He leans forward.]

You should answer the same sort of question. What do you like? Surely someone here has caught your eye. There are plenty of faces to gaze at.

[ Her mouth quirks; she leans forward to unscrew the cap of the flask, pushing it towards him in invitation. May as well have a little something while they're waiting for their tea, right? ]

Kate had me pegged. I can't resist a bad boy.

[ But even as she says it, she relents; he's been honest with her and he doesn't deserve a flippant answer in return. But she doesn't really know how to answer his question... the real question. Surely someone here has caught your eye.

Irritatingly, March isn't the only one that statement brings to mind. She shifts her glance away, toward the stove and the kettle heating on it; her turn to be awkward, to test out her words one at a time before she sets them out into the air. ]

There are some nice faces, yeah. Nice... lots of things.

Edited 2024-03-05 18:06 (UTC)

[He takes the flask and drinks it experimentally.

It is terrible, but he's had worse, so his second drink is with a little more fortitude. He stands up and makes the tea, setting out the bits of salted fish. One day he'll find a way to pickle them properly.] >

Lots of things.

[And she is getting quite the significant look at that because she needs to spill the tea immediately.]

Yeah I know, [ she says, to the look on his face when he tastes the liquor. It's crap, but hopefully that Fiddleford guy will finish up an actual still sooner rather than later.

That look is familiar. He might as well be Waverly leaning over the diner table, saying hold on, whose truck are you borrowing?

It's fine, Wynonna, just play it cool. ]

Faces. Eyes. Voices...

[ Just normal stuff people notice to a normal amount.

She nods to the flask. ]

Careful with that stuff, by the way. I drank about a gallon and woke up the next morning half-dressed with Holland March on his floor.

... I'm not really sure if that's a warning or a recommendation, but either way, it's strong.

Edited 2024-03-05 23:10 (UTC)

[Now that is enough to get Thomas Jopson's full attention on her. The water is boiling behind him, but he is just staring at her.]

Did you -

[He begs her with his eyes. Please finish that sentence so he isn't forced to.]

[ She shakes her head at him. ]

No. I mean... plenty of other stuff, though.

[ Wynonna waggles her eyebrows at him, exaggerating for effect. ]

So I guess... yeah, he's one person here who's caught my eye. So to speak.

Miss Earp. You have been having a wonderful time while I've been trapped in her with Edward.

[But that makes him smile. He doesn't carry any anger towards him any longer; they've grown too close for that.]

[ I don't know if I'd classify it as wonderful, is what she was going to say before he keeps going and she blinks at him. ]

Edward?

[ There are like eight Edwards running around Milton, but the only one that she knows knows Tommy is – ]

–Little??

[ What the fuck is that weird swoop in her stomach. ]

He's been staying here with you?

Edited 2024-03-06 21:37 (UTC)

[He seems a little surprised at the reaction.]

Yes. He - well, we both learned early on that we were so used to being with the others, with the crew, that it made little sense to be alone. I go on his nightly patrols sometimes, but I provide a place he can stay.

[ They're both just surprised at each other for a second, before she blinks, gives herself a shake like a dog coming in out of the rain. ]

Are you, like...

[ Her mouth opens again, but it takes a second before she can figure out what to ask. How to ask? ]

Are these, like, the fun kind of sleepovers, or...? I don't mean braiding each others' hair, I mean are you guys...

[ It's her turn to offer a mute appeal. Please, Tommy, help her out. ]

[Something in him breaks at that question, some last wall he had been keeping upright.

And Thomas laughs. He laughs so hard his nose hurts. He laughs so much hosnsides hurt. He has to take another drink of the terrible alcohol and when he speaks again, she might hear a different Thomas Jopson. Subtle changes in his inflections, in his pronunciations, and he's with his actual friends at home in the back alley, not sitting at the Officer's table.]

Good christ, no. There is a history that - we'll, I shan't burden you with. But - no. Not in this lifetime or another.

We are new friends and that is as much as I-

Wynonna, was that something you worried about? Do you -

Say another word and I'll break your nose again, friend or not.

[ She points at him, warning, even as something loosens and tightens in her gut. Obliquely, she notes that it's nice to hear him laugh, even nicer to hear the way his words relax, like she's through some secret passageway and finally found the real Thomas Jopson, one who's more likely to tease her than to call her miss.

Leaning across the table, she swipes the flask out of his hands and takes a swallow, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she scrunches up her face at him. ]

No. No.

[ Her no doesn't seem to have quite the same ring of authenticity as his had, and that only annoys her more, as does the flush of warmth on her face that's not going anywhere and which the alcohol definitely isn't helping. She scowls, more at herself than at him laughing at her. ]

It's not like that.

[ She's pretty sure it's not like that. ]

[He holds his hands up, pours the tea and brings over the fruit he had previously neglected, and grins.]

It isn't like that.

Would you like it to be?

...God, I wish I didn't love that you have a mean streak.

[ It's not even really mean, he's just tenacious. It's not his fault she feels like she's been sucker-punched.

Wynonna eyes him over her tea before taking a sip and reaching for some of the salted fish. Chewing, she throws her hand up in the air, wide-eyed and exasperated. ]

Maybe? I don't know.

[ She crosses her arms onto the table and leans forward, narrow-eyed and assessing. You should always negotiate from a position of power – which she doesn't have – and she's morosely aware that even trying to negotiate is probably just going to dig her in even deeper, but: ]

What's it gonna take for me to get out of this with my dignity reasonably intact?

[He shakes his head and rejoins her at the table.]

I believe you've told me enough. [This sort of reaction is exactly the information he's looking for.

He spreads out his hands.]

You can ask anything you like, then.

Pretty sure I've told you way too much.

[ It lacks heat, despite her grumbling, and her lips are twitching toward a crooked curve of a smile. ]

Please tell me there's somebody here that's caught your eye, so I can return the favor. Come on, there are lots of good looking guys here.

Indeed there are, but - as I said, there is much more than a pretty face to fit the shape of someone I would make - [And he points to her.] - that face for.

[But he does glance to the window over her shoulder. The one that leads to a ruined igloo that once housed Francis Crozier.]

[ She scrunches up her nose and sticks her tongue out at him – this face, Tommy? – before following his glance out the window.

There's nothing there but a half-wrecked igloo, and she turns back to him. ]

Okay, but there are a few grizzled DILF-types around. I mean, have you seen Joel Miller?

[ Wynonna lifts her eyebrows at him, her expression eloquent once again; this time it says oh hell yes. ]

He's gotta be, like, sixty. [ Sorry for aging you up, Joel. ] But he's got that whole... competent mountain man thing going.

[He tucks his hair behind his ear with a laugh.]

I haven't seen him.

What is a DILF?

[ The grin she shoots his way as she leans onto the table is pure wickedness. ]

Dad I'd like to fu –

[ Stop her, Thomas! Or don't. Sailors have heard (and said) worse. ]

[He doesn't stop her. He raises his eyebrows at her instead, laughing once she's finished.]

That - that cannot be real.

[ Wynonna leans back, snagging a piece of fruit and popping it into her mouth as she slouches against the chair, lifts her hands in a shrug before she laughs, too. ]

The future is a weird and wonderful place, Tommy. What can I say, we like our acronyms. And our weirdly hot older men.

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