#✯ — [ ᵉˡ ᵐᵃᵗᵃᵈᵒʳ ] ⨯ in character

[quick-drawn]

@colecassiidy asked: ↪ Quotes from things I’ve written “Don’t make me drag you out of bed, Colt.”

The other's voice hardly phases him, Colton refusing to look up from where he laid on his bed. Though, even if he did, Cole probably wouldn't be able to see him under the MASSIVE mound of blankets he'd rolled himself in. Much like a burrito. The fabric is pulled taut over his head, another tug snugging the fabric against his ears to help AID in further ignoring the other's threat.

It's been just a little over a week of this...since his mother passed...

Today was supposed to be a day of running errands. Or rather, three days ago it was supposed to be — Cole graciously letting him push the date back to make room for the GRIEF. Though time can't heal all, he learns, each passing day somehow proving worse than the last.

It's inevitable. He passes her door every day, clear view of her bed, all the machines that were once keeping her alive now lifeless and still. It's the absolute decimation of his routine — such an integral part being ripped from his day to day life, it's DIFFICULT for him to fill the void...feels wrong...

— it's why he still refuses to move, accepting his fate should it really come down to Cole dragging him to the front door by the ankles.

"Th'barn better be on FIRE, you doin' all that..."

[quick-drawn]

"Well, now...I don't see why that matters..." he mumbles out in reply, completely IGNORING the fact that they asked a question, easily brushing it off with a roll of his shoulders before casually leaning to the wall behind him.

"Don't s'pose you'd have some — I can DEMONSTRATE for ya."

ㅤㅤ" —wait, 'experience' as in you've killed a man usin' nothin' but glitter, or you've witnessed it happen? 'cause either way, i'm listenin'. "

[quick-drawn]

@byanyan asked: they're staring at him from across the room, waiting. and then, the moment he finally makes eye contact with them... they very maturely stick their tongue out at him. (sometimes u just gotta be a nuisance, i'm so sorry)

Colton's tucked in the corner of the entryway as he removes his jacket, watching how Lena quickly paced back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room and back again after letting him in before looking over the rest of the place as he was told to make himself comfortable — picking apart the LITTLE things, like how the front door didn't quite shut taut, how one of the corners of the runner in the kitchen stuck up slightly, and how the back door swung outward instead of in...

— a residual habit from his previous profession. He found it difficult to turn off, especially in NEW places he didn't know.

Gaze finally makes a grand scan of the room, left to right, stopping ABRUPTLY as he meets the kid's tucked away in the opposite corner — just as abruptly greeted by a TONGUE, stuck out tauntingly in his direction. Doesn't surprise him...

In fact, the bartender didn't expect anything less. It's too bad he didn't have anything else better than IMITATION up his sleeve — or some level of MATURITY past fifth grade — because if Lena were to look back now, she'd see him mocking them: tongue all the way out, complete with a bird flipped conspicuously in their direction...

[quick-drawn]

Salutes. "Commander Colton Cassidy."

"Not you again..."

"Don't you have better things to do...CORPORAL?"

[quick-drawn]

@byanyan asked: ↪ Quotes from things I’ve written “I don’t hate you. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. I’m not askin' you to forgive me, either, but… I don’t hate you” (:

Even as reluctant and soft spoken as it is, their words rupture through the thick silence of the empty and closed bar like an EARTHQUAKE — causing a faulter in step as he moves behind the bar to finish his closing routine. But he doesn't spare them a glance...just continues grabbing glass after glass, from bin to shelf, bin to shelf in a monotonous way the bartender WISHED the night had started with.

But no — instead, it started with an unusual and CRYPTIC phone call, which was followed up by a wild goose chase to find the kid, just to have to break up an argument and ensuing FIGHT that could've easily ended up at the emergency room for any number of them.

And maybe it was the awfully quiet ride back to the bar that made them utter their finer feelings towards him now. Or how this is just another example of how they usually prove to be more bothersome to him than what they're worth — how it's an intentional thing, and they KNOW IT. Just to piss him off. Or perhaps it was the mixed look of disappointment and UNEASE he'd worn since they left the scene, Cassidy having always been stuck in a weird limbo of uncertainty with Byan — never knowing exactly where he stood on that friend to enemy scale.

It's why the silence between them briefly returns, Cassidy leveraging all these thoughts and reeling in some of that simmering ANGER left over from tonight's situation, for Byan's sake — leaving their statement to hang in the air a moment before he finally turns to address it.

" — 'least not when it's CONVENIENT for you, huh?" It's mumbled under his breath before he busies himself with clearing the counter, looking for a distraction before he ends up saying something he'll regret...

"Jus' cut th'crap, kid. If this is your way of tryin' t'keep me from tellin' LENA, you'll have t' try harder than that..."

[quick-drawn]

@colecassiidy ↪ you asked for this, don't start crying now —

He's dead.

It's a definitive thought that sits at the forefront of his mind, even despite the ruckus Lady and Maria were causing in the background, despite how he was now holding a barrel steady against the chest of one of the assailers —

despite how his own fate sat cold, ready behind him at the crook of his neck.

There's nothing but silence between the four of them until a thick swallow paves way for a throaty murmur from Colton, who's eyes have yet to leave the other currently slouched across the wooden tabletop where he'd left him earlier, "...Cole?" Not expecting an answer...but NEEDING one. Empty seconds tick by that feel like hours. Each one somehow filled with more silence than the last until his features are wrenching into some evenly mixed form of ANGER and sorrow. All he needed was some sort of movement — a lift of his head or twitch of his fingers...maybe a pained groan or just...something more than the NOTHING he's getting right now. Anything...

— but he's fucking dead.

He currently stood between the opposite ends of two different guns, both a trigger pull away from sealing the fate of two, but his mind was NOWHERE to be found. Mentally, he wasn't in the dire situation of standing at the barrel end of a gun — he was in the dire situation of losing someone he cared about, and the others knew it. But, trying to take that as an opportunity to get the upper hand is what would lead to peacekeeper firing first, discharging a single round point blank into the one man's chest.

But Colton will hit the ground before he does. Through the wispy smoke and gunpowder, he's falling heavily to his hands and knees, the aftereffect of a swift pistol whip to the back of his head. And it's a dizzying trip down, only worsened by the shove of a boot knocking him down to an elbow. "Fuck..." he grits through his teeth as his eyes are forced closed, trying to blink away the sudden onslaught of spots and stars taking over his vision.

Boots — he sees Cole's boots before his gaze is traveling back up to the table, managing to get his lungs full of air before he calls out again, "COLE!" like a cry for help — but it wasn't. There's no doubt he could use a hand from the other right about now, sure. But what he needed was reassurance. Affirmation that he didn't just get his brother killed...

But you did — he's fucking DEAD and it's all your goddamned fault.

He doesn't even register the PAIN of being wrestled into the ground, his arm being folded back enough to dislodge his shoulder or the heel that sat against his chin — just the sting of losing another one. He can't lose another one...

"WAKE UP, damnit! Please!" it burst from the top of his lungs, voice sodden with PANIC as he chewed on the dirt and gravel of the unpaved parking lot his jaw's ground into — one final plea for a clear conscience, one last cry for his brother.

[quick-drawn]

@chronal-anomaly who insisted he get a dog —

"Absolutely not." He leans to the brick wall behind him, arms folding taught as he overlooks the two wrestling about the cobblestone ground.

It's funny to Colton, how he somehow knew she was going to suggest he take the thing in — fussing over his floppy ears and sad puppy dog eyes...it's exactly why he hadn't mentioned the dog to her until now. And even this wasn't exactly according to plan, Bars having pointed the woman out back when she arrived in search of the bartender. Just his luck, he supposed. "He does jus' fine out here in th'alley. He's got a bed over there, an' he LOVES th'scraps from th'Mexican spot a few doors down..." the last bit's chewed through a half spent cigar pulled from the pocket on his shirt, lighter fussing over whether it's going to work or not as he mumbled out the rest,

"B'sides, pretty sure that'd break a HEALTH CODE or two." Wouldn't be a very good look either, dragging him through the bar and kitchen for bathroom breaks in the middle of the day...

[quick-drawn]

@mercymedic asked: ↪ a comprehensive list of scenarios STORM :  for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm.

"SEE? Reckon this ain't so bad." said in response to her initial assessment of the place, when they first pulled into the vacant motel parking lot. Looking around from their position in the small foyer, he now understands WHY the lot looked near abandoned — the interior wasn't too far off from the state of the exterior.

Dated wallpaper had begun to peel from the wicked desert heat, the linens look like they haven't been updated since the original Dust Bowl, and he'd be surprised if they got any channels on a television like THAT — much less anything worth watching. Honestly? He's right at home — Angela on the other hand...

he spares a glance towards her, a shrug of his shoulders initiating an apologetic grin, "Better than out there anyway..."

He's not sure what short straw the doctor pulled to get tied up with him on a mission like this, but Jesse didn't have any complaints. There were plenty other people that would've made some pretty miserable company in such a situation as this, he's glad it's at least with a friend.

"C'mon, take this off, you're soppin' wet — can't afford you catchin' a cold." He drops his drenched hat to the nearby coffee table with an audible splat before tugging on the serape he'd haphazardly tossed over her before their sprint to the door.

[quick-drawn]

"No." said rather...impatiently, tone dry to match the deadpan look on his face he's SURE the other's noticed — especially considering the close proximity the two are sitting in now.

It takes a few more seconds for Cassidy to realize just how HARSH that sounded...but he was finding it hard to stifle his irritation with the whole thing, having to stare at how RIDICULOUS Niran looked the whole time.

" — can't say I've thought 'bout...any of this b'fore...EVER." Looking to direct his gaze elsewhere — anywhere, and unable to resist any longer, a finger is stuck into the pile of what Cassidy refused to believe was anything more than MUD from the flowerbeds outside. "So what sorta super powers is this stuff supposed t'give me?" he asks, closer examining the substance clinging to his finger.

"An' it don't look a lick like yours...y'sure it ain't ACID?"

❝ You can stop flinching. I'm not dropping acid on your face, friend. ❞ Scooping up more of the clay mask, Niran sets on tackling Cassidy's blocked pores, his own face mask (matcha oat milk) hardening at the temples. A few moments in, he hums absentmindedly. ❝ Have you ever thought of deep conditioning your beard? ❞ »•��𑁍«•«

@quick-drawn

[quick-drawn]

@chronal-anomaly asked: ↪ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒. “ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

His brow wrinkles at Lena's accusation, gaze narrowing in on the girl for a few seconds longer before gluing himself back to the mound of paperwork that laid on the desk between them. She won't see it behind the brim of his hat, but there's an exasperated roll of his eyes leading to a simple grumble of acknowledgement as he continued his reading...or, at least pretended to.

It's a buildup of things that lead up to this point with Colton usually, Lena probably knows by now — which makes a simple question like how are you really rather COMPLICATED.

And he knows she's just trying to be a good friend...knows, while she doesn't mind helping with paperwork, she's not here for the call logs or mission briefs; she's here for him. But now's not the time. She didn't need a distraction like that,

— not while so many other things are on the line.

" — ain't got no tell..."

[quick-drawn]

@healingbrews said:

she can dislocate both of her shoulders as necessary

" — dunno if that's cool or disgustin'..."

".......lemme see."

[quick-drawn]

@colecassiidy:

↪ cont.

Rim of the chilled bottle hangs from his lip a moment as he sat in thought, eyeing the open palm extended across rotting tabletop. For some reason he wasn't actually expecting an INVITATION to prove it — should've known better though, he would've demanded proof for such a claim too. But it wasn't just the unexpected bet unraveling on the table that had him a bit lost in thought, it was how STRANGE it was that they were even at this table in the first place...

— weird enough finding someone with the near exact likes of you, and even more so when that first meet is at gunpoint...but even besides all that, he'd never really found companionship like this before. Not after moving out here to TEXAS anyway. It was...nice, having company that wasn't his mother, that he could unapologetically be himself around, that was there to pick him up when he fell and laughed at almost all of his jokes — he almost forgot what it was like...almost didn't want him to leave...

"Well, I ain't ever been one t'back down from a CHALLENGE." he finally stammers out, sly grin returning to his features as the bottle is dropped next to the other, freeing up a hand to cradle into Cole's. There's an intimidating SQUEEZE as rickety chair is scooted just a tad bit closer, grin souring into a smug, presumptuous look.

"But, when I win, you gotta stay an' help wrangle th'cattle in tonight."

[quick-drawn]

"I'm UPSET 'cause he violated our agreement." Again...this being the third time he's caught the kid red handed in something he had no BUSINESS in.

Restless fingertips dance around the rim of a near empty rocks glass atop the counter, Colton still mulling over the unfolded events of the night. "An' if y'seen th'kid he had back there with him, you'd prob'ly be upset too." Wooden feet of the barstool creak against worn floorboards as the bartender moves to stand, remaining contents of the glass tossed to the back of his throat in one fluid motion. He bites back the sting as he makes his way around the counter to the backside of the bar where he'll mindlessly pick out the next tasting with a shake of his head. "He ain't supposed t'be messin' 'round with that sorta stuff — was kinda th'whole point in havin' him here, ain't it?" A rhetorical question as he sweeps the bar with a broad gesture of occupied hands before refilling the stout glass.

Jonny had PURPOSE, dreams and aspirations...though the paperwork was more or less for legal purposes, he still felt he owed the kid something...even if it was just making sure he didn't end up like him. Whatever that entails...

"Jus' feel like I'm...lettin' him down. An' I ain't sure how t'fix it..."

@quick-drawn didn't ask for this or to look over 16 year old jonnyboy but we can't all choose our destines--

Officer Beifong, closing in on her fortieth year of life ( and frustration ) was more than a tough case to crack. Why? Because that was her job to do. To sit down and comb through careful details and crafted lies. To cultivate a better understanding of the cause behind the crime. Often her job was divide between less dangerous dealings, and that's what the case of Jonathon Michael Pollard was turning out to be.

( A troubled teen whose heart desired to drink the adrenaline of the racetrack. )

The call she received from a less than calm Colt wasn't her favorite outome of an otherwise free and off duty Friday night. Luckily or unluckily for Colton, Lin liked her liquour how most people with say her personality was ;

Stiff.

So, it was the smaller woman perched on a barstool next to the taller man, the police officer taking a sip of liquid poison over melting ice before Lin set the record of this story straight, " So you're upset you found Jon. In the back. With a boy?

You're the one that signed the paper.

There's a year and a half left of you having to deal with this. "

[quick-drawn]

starter. ↪ @colecassiidy

It's a one-hundred year old farm house — the floorboards bend and warp with the weather, branches from century-old oaks prod at shingles and scratch at siding with each gust of WIND, outdated copper pipe whines under the pressure of modern appliances — it's OLD. There's gonna be weird creaks and shadows in the middle of the night.

THIS, however, was not any of that. He was sure of it.

The unnatural clink of METAL clattering to the floor is what initially woke him from his sleep, Colton unable to ignore the odd domino-effect of clamor that followed. Something, or someone, had made it into the house — and he wasn't gonna wait around upstairs for them to find him first.

Peacekeeper is instinctively grabbed from his nightstand, held in clammy hands as he slowly made his way through the house. Each step down the two story staircase was a gamble whether or not it'd expose his approach with an ill timed SQUEAK. They hadn't been here long enough for him to learn such details of the old farm house — hardly long enough for them to even receive the first utility bill. Him and his mother, besides the house, they had nothing. He couldn't imagine what they were here looking for — what would be worth making so much of a ruckus over,

— worth risking your life over, his finger settling liberally over the trigger as he made it off the last step.

Drawers shuffled open and closed, still unpacked cardboard boxes slid across hardwood floors — though he grew closer to the intruder, the sound seemed to grow DISTANT, the pounding in his chest moving up to his ears until all he could hear was his own shallow, shaky breaths. He didn't want to do this — but he doesn't give himself enough time to back down.

Turning the corner with revolver leveled, the click of the hammer should be enough to get their attention, but he can't make out a face in the dark of the night. "Don't fuckin' move." said loud enough for the trespasser to hear, but hopefully quiet enough to not wake his mother upstairs. He'd rather resolve this PEACEFULLY — and without anymore blood to stain his hands...

" — 'fraid you've got th'wrong house." He takes one more step closer, just enough to see their hands over the counter — just enough to pull his stomach into an anxious knot...

"Whatever you're lookin' for AIN'T HERE. Stand up."

[quick-drawn]

open.

"Alright — whatever lassos your longhorns."

"Jus' keep in mind y'can't blame ME when this all goes t'shit. I tried t'warn ya."

[quick-drawn]

@todoslosdiasdemivida asked: ↪ 50 random starters “Touch that and I will hit you with a spoon.” { GABE }

"Oh, c'mon..." he whines under his breath, chin falling into hands propped up by elbows, leaning to the countertop with a heavily audible SIGH.

A pout takes over his features, Jesse visibly deflating the longer he stared at the dish sitting in front of him. Had to be some sorta TEST, maybe an evaluation of his self control — something Gabe knew he had none of...at least when it came to FOOD. " — you make THAT an' you jus' expect me t'sit here an' look at it...?"

"How 'bout jus' a li'l bit? Like th'corner piece! I won't tell NOBODY." Bargaining didn't typically work on Gabe, but in this case, it was worth a shot.