It was in the small victories Boyd decided, that the war was to be settled. Even though the imagery seemed a little fortuitous considering the softer pace that ambled along on cricket chirp and leaf rustle. Battlefields were for elements of opposing side coming together to rein over territory, this..this on the other hand held variables sincere and astoundingly quiet; compatibility forming out of necessity. This was a democratic process that just so happened to hold it’s hand out to company of a rather beautiful woman.
Trailblazing throughout her home Boyd remained in his complaint position behind Ava. Careful to not sully the elements of her home as he had done in the past hands were placed in their protective pockets. A formulation of habitual comfort that not only adjusted his posture into one that he felt was more effective as expressing ones point, but also gave his digit’s natural inclination to fiddle an objective a stipend. Gyration index making marks from his hips downward, the walk to the kitchen was one of displaced boots attempting to make permanent prints. So that come the day that he was to leave at least his essence could remain as a phenomenology shadow in the home. Degrees away so even in death he could linger as he did now in the kitchen watching Ava move. Become a watching sentry beyond the loss of flesh, flesh that he suddenly realized was hungry to the fuckin’ bone as the appearance of a cold pasta dish was tossed in his direction.
Salivary glands suddenly taking over some part of his baser instincts. hands escaped from their dimension to invade that of the kitchen sink to find a suitable utensil. Gastric upheaval ready to plow directly into the food with whatever implement was at hand, a fork was seized from the drying rack and immediately plunged into the Tupperware. Taking a sizable portion and shoveling it into the mouth as a man on the brink, Boyd’s eyes lazed into a display of a satisfaction before finally initializing a chew. Savoring the flow of both sustenance and salt to a desperate belly a couple more mouthfuls were enacted before he felt his was capable of coherent speech.
“It was m’ last stop..” Twirling the flattened end of the metal between melting bone and sinew the cutlery spun in a playful twirl before being laid to rest on the meal. “-had to make sure there was no option ‘fore hand, you know before goin’ back down to that tenuous sentence.” Knowing that going any further into that direction of conversation would displace something more substantial within him he instead returned to the offering of food before him. Carving away layers directly into his mouth with the tenacity of someone starved half to the brink, the portion was reduced to nothing in an uncomfortably short amount of time.
Comfortable leaving the skeletal remains of dishes on the counter both plastic container and fork were abandoned near to the sink for later dealings.
“It ain’t a date, and I ain’t tryin’ to keep nothin’ from you Ava… I- Just for once.. for both of us, it’s just simple Ok? A drink out past the dry county and I’ll tell you all about it, and maybe sing a lil’ praise to those leftovers that I just inhaled like the last comin’ meal to a starved man. Simple..”
Lips pursed as frame found rest, plush lumbar leaning against the edge of quaint kitchen table as cerulean hues slightly widened. “Ain’t even gonna microwave that?” She asked, eyes drinking in the nearly primitive display before her like she’d never witnessed a man rendered hungry by long days routine. Arms loosely plicated over chest and visage shook. “You even feed yourself?” Teeth reeled in lower pout and hips politely retreated uncomfortable wooden surface, vertebrae straightening from her casual slouch with an audible crack. “If I didn’t know any better, you ain’t properly eaten in days,” Ava teased. If he had, consumption of healthy sustenance couldn’t have been much more than a light meal or so. Maybe she should have started leaving leftovers for the pickings sooner.
Slinking forward, she took lazy steps in direction of the dry rack beside the sink. Fingers wrapped nimbly around glass circumference while idle hand hoisted faucet. “Tenuous sentence, huh? Tell us how you really feel, Boyd.” Crystalline brim nestled betwixt slightly parted lips and exhausted replenishing resource in one, long refreshing swill. Already, Ava was instinctively preparing for the possibility of accidental over indulgence in liquor. “Better than bein’ in jail, or worse – dead lyin’ in a ditch somewhere.” If there was one thing the mining and criminal occupations held in common, it was both could potentially be dangerously life threatening, but statistically speaking getting killed via collapsing mine was less likely than getting shot by a gun thug around these parts.
Empty glass clinked and toppled over carelessly in the sink. Head turned in Boyd’s direction as he finished his meal and grasp reached plastic container beside him, casting it into washbasin beneath running water. His response to stern warning was a bit delayed and she was thrown off guard. Ava honestly hadn’t expected him to reiterate on the subject of courtship. Ignoring the first, she responded to the latter. “What makes you think I thought you were keepin’ somethin’ from me?” Lathering digits in soap, rinsed hands seized cotton dish linen as blonde brow’s narrowed. Was she that easy for him to analyze? “’Cause I was just jokin’ with you earlier.” Azures peered into wooded hues from corners before boots glided in reverse from counter and outlaw’s close proximity.
Simple wasn’t exactly the word Ava would use to describe things between them, but she wasn’t about to ruin pleasantries between them. He’d gotten a job as he’d promised and she genuinely believed he deserved a night void of petty ridicule. “Jokin’ about you bein’ up to somethin’ not the date part.” She nipped that promptly in the bud, cutting off chances for one of his smartass remarks at the pass. Gaze reunited with his in partial glare, but there was hint of mischief glinting beneath stoic facade. “And y’know, I hear all this talk about drinkin’, how ‘bout we do less a’that and more’a gettin’ goin’.” Swiping Ford keys from kitchen table, she launched them precisely into intended vicinity of his broad chest. While his vehicle ran, hers was a little more reliable. Ava didn’t want to break down in the middle of Cumberland or Corbin during the dead of night and walking home wasn’t quite on her to-do list.
Limb extended to grasp handbag and hips weaved through foyer threshold as heels tic tocked against hollow lumber paneling. Quieting as she reached the entrance of her home, she opened front door and greeted the cool, spring air once more. “The keys to the house are on there,” she hinted. There would be no riff raff breaking into her home tonight. Ava usually left things unsecured while she was around, but without her presence and the protection of her shotgun, she didn’t trust anyone within a hundred mile radius. Descending porch steps, boots turned over gravel and dirt as she approached the passenger side of her truck. Clutch pulled door ajar and frame slipped seated onto tattered, gun metal leather upholstery. Sinking into the bench, lungs drew in long, nerve ridden breath and cast out speculative tension as eyes trailed his approach.
How bad could a night out on the town with Boyd really be?
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