[[ crater-bound, diablo ]]

[almosthonorable]

whitetextiswhite

[ cowboys and russians ]


The fourth morning, Ben's awake well before dawn. Despite the hour, he's downright jovial from a night spent in an actual bed and the chance to wash away the dust from the trail.

(Of course, sharing that bed with Esfir's no hardship.)

They've still got a twelve-mile ride ahead of them, but he doesn't wake her just yet; the pads of his fingers are stroking the back of her neck in a steady, featherlight rhythm.

Comments

[aimedforthemoon]

She could get used to this. Not the riding, specifically, although she is enjoying that, too. No, this whole sharing-a-bed-with-(Ben)someone situation she's gotten herself into.

Not to mention that a bed is heaven after three nights without, even if it is in a tavern that is...well. Like a tavern in Diablo, if what she saw last night was any indication.

(The sheriff is presently in the stocks. Or was, last she saw of him.)

Still, she's used to waking before dawn, and even if Ben had been still and asleep, she'd be waking up now. Probably not with that faint smile on her face, though.

"Dobraye ootra," she says, sleepily.

[almosthonorable]

Eyes still closed, his lips twitch; his voice is rough from whiskey and sleep, like gravel in molasses.

"Mornin', sunshine."

[aimedforthemoon]

"'Sunshine'? I don't think anyone's called me that. Ever," she adds, helpfully. Not that she sounds like she minds.

[almosthonorable]

He chortles and shrugs one shoulder.

"Thought you might like it, since the sun's up in space -- biggest star of the bunch, y'know."

[aimedforthemoon]

Esfir's smile fades as she thinks about that.

"Actually, it's not. About average, as stars go. It just seems big because we are close..."

Beat.

"It's still nice. Your name. Diminutive."

[almosthonorable]

"Well, I reckon you'd know these things."

A beat.

"Sunshine."

He threads his fingers into her hair.

"Ready to go visit your big hole in the desert?"

[aimedforthemoon]

"Absolutely."

[almosthonorable]

That earns an outright chuckle -- he didn't expect anything less, but her excitement's a tangible thing -- and he presses a kiss to her tousled hair before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"All right, then."

[aimedforthemoon]

She rolls over into the space he left, pushing herself up as she does so and running a hand through her short curls.

"Think anyone's awake downstairs?" She asks, voice a bit louder now she's starting to wake up properly.

[almosthonorable]

She gets an appreciative once-over as he nods.

"Somebody'll be in the kitchen. We should be able to get somethin' hot to drink and a bite to eat before headin' out."

Should. It is Diablo.

[aimedforthemoon]

"Good."

Being (mostly) alive? Is so very good. Being hungry most of the time? Very annoying. And she notices the once-over, which gets a crooked smile. Short and skinny and she looks like a boy in those clothes. But, if he's not complaining...

[almosthonorable]

He's definitely not complaining; she's not that skinny, and with curves like that, he'll forgive the clothes for hiding them, because he knows they're there.

Once they're both dressed and ready to leave, he leads the way down to the bar.

The coffee isn't nearly as good as Miss Bar's in Milliways. Neither are the biscuits.

At least it's a hot breakfast.

[aimedforthemoon]

And given Esfir is somewhat stuck with the appetite of an adolescent boy, food is food. Actually, she had that opinion long before Weyland worked his craft, but that just confirmed.

So, she eats. And drinks. And then pauses.





"Is that man dead?" She asks Ben politely, in a low voice.

[almosthonorable]

"Don't think so, Yazy."

He smirks into what's left of his coffee.

"Think he's still stone-drunk."

[aimedforthemoon]

Yazy.

She'd hoped he'd managed to forget about that...

"Oh. Must be red beer, then."

[almosthonorable]

That earns a closer inspection of the man in question.








" -- must be."

[aimedforthemoon]

Which earns a smirk around her cup.

"Interesting town."

[almosthonorable]

"I'm thinkin' we've got divergin' definitions of the word."

He drains what's left of his mug and returns the smirk.

"You're the one all fired up 'bout the world's biggest empty grave."

[aimedforthemoon]

"Crator."

[almosthonorable]

"Crater," he corrects himself with a nod, eyes bright.

He pulls out enough cash to cover their meal, plus a little extra, and glances at Esfir's plate.

"You set?"

[aimedforthemoon]

She grins at him, already on her feet.

"Yep," she says anyway, being helpful.

[almosthonorable]

It's not long before they've retrieved their horses; it takes even less time to leave Diablo behind.

It's a sunny morning; already hot, and dry as the dust the horses' hooves are kicking up.

[aimedforthemoon]

Truth be told, Esfir doesn't mind. It's good to feel the wind in her face, the sun on her body, and beyond good to smell air that isn't processed thousands of kilometres in space.

And if her horse slips into a canter, well.

Nothing wrong with that on this plain, right?

[almosthonorable]

Nothing a damn thing -- Ben's admiring her ease in the saddle as she speeds past him.

(He's proud of her, the near-natural way she's taken to riding.)

At length, he urges his mount into an easy canter, letting the animal have its head to catch up.

[aimedforthemoon]

She's not even thinking about racing, not really - just the sound and the sights and the smells and the feelings. She's always been a quick study, and this is being thrown into the deep end.

Still, she grins at him as he catches up.

"Thought I lost you," she says, eyes bright.