FIGURES. tulip just wants one thing to go right in this godforsaken (naw, god ain’t even batting an eye towards this shitstain on the texan map) town. jesse’s too busy with the whole MESSIAH, PREACHER, SAVIOR OF ANNVILLE, LET ME KISS YOUR SHIT AND MAKE IT SHINE shtick, carlos is out there, living his goddamn happy life, and tulip’s, ironically enough, bruised, battered, and covered in someone else’s blood in the church of that very same asshole? ex? boyfriend? preacher. not just that, oh no, but with the goddamn vampire she’d only just fucked a few days ago. yeah, someone’s really got her on their shitlist. still, tulip’s not pissy about it, just amicably taking in the sight of the dead bastard off to the side. felt kind of good to slam him into the doors she used to loathe going into as a kid (’cos church service was so dang boring that it almost wasn’t worth going to for jesse custer), but the whole, SHOOTING CASSIDY thing hadn’t been cool on his part. “preacher? he shouldn’t be surprised, giving that his whole congregation is full of cow-killin’, gun-totin’ rednecks. probably some symbolism behind all’a this, anyway, HARK, THE LORD SHOOTETH THE BASTARD WHO TRAMPLED DOWN THE VAMPIRE,” tulip grins crookedly in the vampire’s direction, though it fades as she watches a bullet clang onto the floor, “starting to think you like getting hurt,” she huffs, not-so-gently reaching over as he’s requested to pry into his, well, bullet hole. “jesse custer may be many things, but he ain’t a man who’s never seen bloodshed before, no matter how—” she grits her teeth, digs her fingers hard into the irishman’s wound until they find purchase around the cool metal, “—holy he acts,” tulip pulls the bullet free, displaying it between her thumb and forefinger towards the vampire with a grin that’s a little too venomous, “what i wanna know is why that fucker,” she nods to the dead man, “came here lookin’ to rumble.”
‘ NOT ‘F IT’S SO HEARTLESS , NO . . . ’ a lopsided grin to the huffed statement that didn’t really call for an answer . his grimace is subtle when the bullet is removed . he’s used to it , mostly . ‘ o.k. , all those hints an’ kung fu moves are startin’ t’ seriously make me t’ink yeh two were serial killers or somethin’ . . . ’ a quizzical expression on his face , still it’s not spoken like he actually expects clarification . they’re secretive with those things , their past ( ? ) , or he is , with her it’s more like a suggestive remark to or about the preacher here or there . and it’s not like cassidy hasn’t seen him fight because that --------- is not the kind of thing he’s ever seen a holyman do . don’t even get him started on her skills . . . she’s a goddamn death angel , and those curls bob so beautifully when she destroys dreams , makes widows , etc . . . she’s something . bloody lower lip between canines as he looks down at the bullet in tulip’s hand , a jolly smile to answer her sarcastic one . ‘ t’anks eternally . ’ and then , very casual , because he has an explanation for everything ( or tries to ) : ‘ well , two t’ings : either was comin’ for me or for , well , that t’ing inside ‘im . or . . . or you ? if yah do have unfinished business somewhere . ’ brow creases , like a thought hits him , and he turns once more to look upon the body . ‘ hope he’s not like those clonin’ lads . ’ words spoken with a frown as eyes search the room without real thoroughness . should’ve come back by now though , right ? christ , he’d hate if hunters coming after him were to become the weekly reason for messing up the man’s poor church . he stretches uncomfortably at the thought , taking a long breath of the drug and then the surprisingly cool air . at least the air conditioning's currently working .
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