closed starter: jett + addison / @addisonallens
location: redford's annual rodeo & fair
the booth smells like gunpowder and cheap prizes, plastic and sun-warmed fabric, the kind of place jett wouldn't usually give a second look. he stands there anyway, rifle resting easy in his hands, posture steady, grounded - this part, at least, makes sense. the first shot cracks clean through the noise, then another, then another. no rush or wasted movement. just control. by the time he's done, the targets are down, and the guy behind the booth is already reaching for a prize
the plush looks almost stupid - soft, bright pink, out of place against the grit of everything else. he takes it and turns, gaze slowly scanning the crowd until he finds her. doesn't take long. it never does
addison. by the time she reaches him, he's leaning against the booth, rifle already set aside, the plush hanging loose from his fingers like he hasn't decided what it means yet
"just won it" the man adds with a grin, almost proud of himself. his thumbs brushing absently against the fabric as he hands her the plush "figured it ain't look right on me, carryin' this shit 'round"
