#rusticmutt

[riverspat]

the air hung hot and heavy over the clearing, unmoved by the breeze. defiant of what little shade latticed its way down from the sparse treeline. charlene sat in grass, her legs tucked beneath her, leaning back on either palm in a tableau almost peaceful.

“you like to watch other people, see into their business," @rusticmutt says. and she isn't certain whether he meant it as observation or accusation. nor if she cared.

for however much they seemed to hold in common, he felt as if he'd stumbled in from a whole other world. and hadn't he? she didn't know much of the hensleys but the common mutters around town. she: too polite to pry and he: not particularly forthcoming.

"curiosity's hardly a sin," she says, regarding him over her shoulder.

[joyousdefunct]

@rusticmutt / cont.

she wasn’t even gonna come.

earlier, tucker stood in front of the bathroom mirror for almost twenty minutes in an oversized tee with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, telling herself she was staying in this time. that there was nothing good waiting for her out there. she'd even washed her makeup off, and was just about to get in bed when one of her friends texted:

𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

wes. stupid. they'd been broken up for months now. it wasn't her problem anymore. except … it always somehow became her problem, especially since wes worked for her father and wes knew things about tucker that she didn’t need anyone else knowing, especially her parents.

so she'd rolled her eyes, then reached for the gloss she'd already tossed back into the bathroom drawer. showed up frowning ten minutes later. she hated this place. it was always a little too humid, a little too honky tonk and stinking of puke. almost everyone was someone she’d grown up with, young and old alike, including the packed-too-tight, red-faced crowd of guys screaming at each other over the music.

and now this one was brushing her off? for trying to save him the trouble?

her hand lingered long enough to note that telltale mountain brawn; a mean sorta ropey sinew that seemed to flex then still, before she dropped away like she’d put her hand in the flame: abrupt, rejected.

“ ... sorry,” she tells him, cheeks flushing pink. her eyes drift past him, and she catches sight of wes taking another wild swing.

“that’s my dumbass ex. he gets drunk and thinks he’s the toughest guy in the room … it just isn’t worth gettin’ involved, i should know — ”

tucker trails off when nearby, one of the men gets the air audibly knocked out of his lungs. he stumbles back, boots slipping in a puddle of beer— “look out!” tucker scoots to the side and bumps into levi, trying to move them both out of the way.