Lance (bluelion) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2018-09-28 18:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !complete, !log, [plot] wild wild west, ~2018 september, ~25 points, ~~lance (bluelion), ~~molly walker (knowswhereulive) |
WHO Lance Smith & Molly Walker
WHAT Getting a drink
WHEN Friday evening
WHERE The Saloon
WARNING so much cuteness
STATUS Closed | Complete gdoc
Working in the Mines was exhausting. It was manual labor that he'd gotten used to over the years, moving from one town to the next as needed. Most nights, he didn't even head into town, just stayed near the campsite they'd set up for themselves. His friends had finally convinced him to head into town, probably because they needed a break from his awful sense of humor. Well, according to them anyway. Lance thought he was hilarious.
With a dollar in his pocket, he headed into the Saloon while his friends hit up the Brothel. He'd rather drink and flirt with someone who wanted to flirt with him as opposed to someone he paid to give him affection. Lance scanned the room and quickly found the prettiest Saloon Girl there.
"Hey there, pretty lady," he greeted, looking every bit the cocky miner that he was. "Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?"
***
Molly was too used to men coming along and trying to catch her attention when she couldn’t have been less interested. Seated on the bar, legs crossed and booted feet swinging slightly, she barely even glanced toward the man who approached her. He was handsome enough, clearly a miner by the looks of him, she’d seen plenty of his type and they were usually the worst, and clearly after something she had no intention of giving. She gave it five minutes before having to not so politely remind him he was in the wrong establishment.
Except when he came over, he was actually a little funny with a line that was probably meant to charm her and was most definitely a compliment, and Molly struggled to hide her smile as she looked at him, completely serious. “Quite a lot, actually. Why? Are you a doctor?”
So long as he didn’t get any ideas about her it couldn’t hurt to talk to him. Maybe he’d spend some money and she’d see some reward for it.
***
He was honestly taken aback for a moment that she went with it, but he recovered a moment later with a broad grin. Lance knew he'd picked the right girl. "Sure am," he replied as he took the seat next to her. "And I happen to know that the prescription is passing the time with the handsomest man in the room." Which, naturally, was him.
Women were sometimes a hit or miss, especially depending on what sort of family they were from. Lance knew that as a miner, he'd be able to provide a very specific kind of a life and it wasn't really the best kind. He went where the work was and that sort of life wasn't proper for a woman. It wasn't like there was much else he was good for, having skipped out on school at 10. He'd run away from home over an argument he couldn't even remember, got caught up in a bad group of people, and ended up being taken in by the miners at 14.
There were a lot of things he couldn't remember about his childhood, but he was grateful for the chances he'd been given and the stable work. It'd brought him to this stunning creature, after all. "Could I trouble you for a drink, Miss?"
***
It was funny enough that he thought she would possibly want to spend her time talking to him when she could be charming other customers into spending more money. It wasn’t often that the miners came in, though, and there was always a rumour that they had plenty to spare, in a way that most folk didn’t around these parts. Between their company paying for their living expenses at the mine and not having much in the way of time to come into town to spend it, it was probably easy to be flush. Molly laughed a little, shifted in her seat on the bar to face him better, looking him over.
He really was fairly handsome, a lot more so than a lot of other men in town and he didn’t have the same sweet features that most of the younger ones had. She sort of liked it and definitely liked the way he smiled.
Which was the only reason instead of brushing him off she asked instead: “With or without a bit of sugar?”
Not all men liked their whiskey sweetened, some liked the bite.
***
She didn't brush him off or make like she was going to spend time with someone else. Lance considered that a huge win and knew he'd be boasting about that later to his friends. They were used to him mostly making a fool of himself. "You're all the sugar I need," he replied with a grin. Of course, he managed to say it in such a way that conveyed the fact that he didn't expect anything from her other than her company in conversation.
Lance honestly didn't have that much of a preference because he was here more for the conversation than something to drink. He figured it'd also make him seem cooler if she thought he preferred his whiskey without sugar. No one had ever accused him of exactly having the most rational thought process or anything like that.
"I'm Lance," he added, "and I'd be real honored if you'd tell me your name." Maybe if he was lucky, he'd get a kiss by the end of the night.
***
If it were nearly anyone else, Molly might have said he was laying it on too thickly, he definitely was, but he was doing it in such a way that didn’t make her think she was going to be fighting his hands off her legs any time soon. Skirts bundled to show her knees didn’t mean an invitation and that was something too few men seemed to understand. He actually seemed alright, especially for a miner. Every rumour she’d ever heard said their manners were the worst around.
“No sugar it is,” she confirmed, and just leaned back behind the bar to find an open bottle and a glass that looked clean. She doubted he’d have much to say about even the dirtiest glass in the building. Anything at the mining camp had to be much worse.
“I’m Molly,” she introduced herself, without any of her usual caution. He’d asked so nicely and it was hard not to be charmed by it. “Are you coming in from the mine, Lance?”
A part of her job was to chat, to keep men spending their money. Usually she wasn’t all that interested. Strange that she was this once.
***
Lance watched as she reached behind the bar to grab a bottle and a glass, but he kept his gaze on the back of her head and the mess of curls that looked perfectly perfect. Not that he knew, exactly, but her hair looked soft and that was much different from his own hair. He was clean, of course, but he couldn't ever really get completely clean being a miner who camped outdoors all week long.
He accepted the glass and her name with a big grin. "Yea, my buddies went down the street but I like to keep to the Saloons in town," Lance explained before he took a small sip. Unsweetened whiskey was alright but it burned on the way down and he didn't want to go coughing in front of such a pretty young woman.
"It's been my experience that the prettiest, most interesting ladies are here." He was totally serious about that, too. Brothel ladies were beautiful, but the eyes were sometimes not all there. He much preferred his women to be vibrant in life and in beauty. "And here I am, proven right just like always." Except Saloon girls rarely gave him the time of day. She didn't need to know that, though.
***
“Pretty enough, maybe,” she would never go so far as to call herself beautiful, or anything special, though that might just be because of the company she kept at work. All the girls in the saloon were gorgeous. She was just one of the younger ones. That probably made her as popular as she was.
“But you’re not getting the same kind of...service,” was a very nice and tactful way of putting it, “here as you’re gonna get there.” Maybe if she got it out of the way at the start this could be pleasant. Some of the ladies seemed to really like what they did here. Some of them didn’t even seem to mind when some men forgot their place. But Molly had never wanted this life for herself and she didn’t want to have to fight people off of her. Especially not some young miner who ought to know better.
No matter how handsome he might be and how much his over the top charm was bound to get ot her. She liked that sort of thing.
***
Lance bet himself a kiss from her that she'd agree she was the most beautiful woman in the place by the time he left. "Course not," he replied before he took another sip of his whiskey. It wasn't uncommon for patrons to get a little handsy with Saloon girls, but she wasn't going to believe that he wasn't that type unless he proved her wrong. That was a task he was more than happy to do.
"But I get the honor of knowing any smile you give me is an honest one." That was a big thing for him. He wanted his charms to garner a real reaction, not one he paid for. Maybe he sort of paid for it here by drinking whiskey and maybe smoking a cigar or whatever else they had to sell, but to her point, he wasn't getting anything more than conversation. And he was quite alright with that.
"And your smile is like a work of art." Lance grinned broadly, knowing full well that he was laying it on thick. He wasn't even sorry because if she hadn't sent him on his way already? It meant she liked over the top enough that he might have half a chance to win her over. "Just like that updo of yours. You're real talented, being able to do something like that."
***
He did get a smile, despite Molly’s best efforts, at his reassurances and his compliments. He really was trying so hard to charm her and as much as she’d like to just hop down from her seat and go on her way, she found herself staying right there. She even shifted slightly so that she was angled more toward him, giving him her attention as she lifted her hand to brush a few stray hairs away from her face.
“It’s not much,” she protested shyly, quietly pleased by the compliment. “Any girl here could do it just as well.” If not better, she thought. But there wasn’t much to do poorly when a woman had enough hair pins.
A simple compliment like that, one that complimented her skills rather than her looks, shouldn’t affect her the way it did. Molly knew he was probably just trying for something she’d already said she wouldn’t do, she might not be in the most reputable of careers but she had her virtue intact and planned to keep it that way, but he’d picked exactly the right thing to say. That she was pretty not because she was born that way but because she was good at something.
***
Lance made a big show of looking around the room to check out all the other girls' updos and shook his head very seriously when he turned back to Molly. "Nope. Yours is the best one in the place," he declared. "And I bet best in town, too. I'd need more time to properly assess that one, since all the women in town aren't here at this very moment."
He definitely wouldn't have the first clue how to do something like that and definitely didn't realize that she used a ton of hair pins to make it stay. He just saw a beautiful mess of curls that framed an equally - if not more - beautiful face. Lance almost wished his life were different, just so he'd have a better shot with her. But this was his life and if all he got was an evening, then he was going to make the most of it.
"What other talents does the lady have?" he asked before he took another sip of his whiskey. Lance was genuinely curious to know more about her. His friends would probably know every last detail of this particular conversation inside of a week because he knew he'd be talking about her for a good long while after this.
***
“Nothing much,” Molly said with a shrug. “Can carry a tune, all the girls here can, maybe dance a little if I have to, never killed anyone by cooking.” She wasn’t uniquely good at anything in particular. If she had been, maybe she could have used that to do something better than this. She didn’t want to spend her whole life working in a saloon but until her sister could go to school or someone wanted to marry her, that was Molly’s option.
“I’ll tell you what I can’t do. Can’t sew for the life of me.” She didn’t tell many people that, it wasn’t exactly something people should know about a girl. “My brother’s had to learn to do all the mending for me.” Not her mother, she didn’t have one, but there was no point in saying that.
Molly didn’t want anyone’s sympathies. Her little family was doing just fine in their own little way.
***
It didn't seem like she was keen on dancing, which was probably a good thing because he wasn't nearly as good as he thought he was. He could carry a tune well enough, but that was more something he did around the campfire and not in front of a pretty girl. Lance really wanted to impress Molly, to make her smile and laugh and forget about whatever worries were hidden in her mind. Everyone had worries, whether they shared them or not, and he guessed she was no different. Especially if her brother was doing her mending.
"It's not easy. My mending is absolutely awful," he commiserated. Lance shifted a bit to show her a poorly mended rip on the side of his shirt. "And," he added, stage whispering, "this is my best shirt." Being a miner didn't lend itself well to having a well kept wardrobe. It wasn't generally a big deal because they didn't get time to go into town very often, but it was a little embarrassing.
Still, it gave them something to bond over and he liked that. "I got a couple back at camp." He whistled low. "You should see the blood stains on them. I prick my finger way more than anyone ought to, but those needles are slippery!" He was just clumsy, really, but she probably figured that out already.
***
“You’ll just have to find yourself a wife good with one,” Molly suggested with a laugh. She knew she was never going to be the sort of lady who anyone was going to want to call their wife, she wasn’t respectable like the proper ladies in town, so it was easy for her to suggest even the most handso there was a chance it was going to be her one day. “Don’t suppose there’s much chance to meet many marriageable ladies up at the mines, though.”
If anything, she thought there might be some women who went to sell themselves, the kind who were lower even than the girls at the brothel. They, at least, had some sort of protection and comfort.
“And I don’t know that you’ll find one who appreciates your sort of compliments.” She did, she very much did, but her thoughts on how funny he was didn’t really matter.
***
"Definitely not," he agreed. The sort of women that hung around their camps, they weren't the right sort to do anything with, at least as far as Lance was concerned. Plus, he didn't like to pay for that sort of thing because his hand worked just fine and cost him nothing. It meant he got to have some fun out in the Saloons when they were allowed out on the town.
"That's why I like coming to Saloons though. Sure, everyone's nice and all, but you can tell if someone likes you or not. And you, Ms Walker, love my compliments," Lance accused teasingly. "And how could you not? I only tell the truth and you've got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, prettiest smile I've ever seen, and definitely the prettiest curls." She had a lot of pretty things about her, but he had sense enough to not compliment her curves or how pretty her legs looked.
Lance finished his whiskey and slid the glass towards her. "May I have another, Miss Molly? It's sweet as can be when you're the one pouring," he complimented warmly. Gosh, he was totally smitten.
***
“How do you know I’m not only pretending to like you to make you spend your money?” Molly challenged, even as she dutifully poured him another glass. The more he drank, the more she made, so it was in her best interests to keep him there, keep him talking and smiling and enjoying himself. She’d do it for anyone.
She wouldn’t enjoy it nearly as much as she was genuinely enjoying talking to him, though.
Which she very much did. His compliments seemed completely genuine even as frequent as they were, the way he looked and smiled at her, respected her, got through the wall Molly had built for herself. She couldn’t be so soft as to let every handsome fellow charm her, but she was in deep trouble with this one. At the rate he was going, she actually would give in and kiss him if he asked for it at the end of his night.
***
Lance just grinned widely as she poured him another glass of whiskey. "Because of how you're smiling," he replied, so sure of himself. "You don't give that smile to just anyone. It's all right there in those gorgeous green eyes of yours." The way they sparkled, the way she got those cute little crinkles around them when he got her to grin like that. He took a sip of his whiskey and set it back down on the bar.
He'd bet all his money in his pocket right at that very moment that she genuinely enjoyed his jokes and flirting. It was a little over the top, but she clearly needed some entertainment. "Now either the smiles are because you enjoy my compliments, or it's because no one's gone about it in the right way for ages. I'm a little suspicious that it's a bit of both." He whistled kind of low. "It's a real shame. You should get complimented many times a day an' twice that on Sundays."
He grinned. "Guess I better find a way to get 'em all in now, best I can."
***
With a little hum that was all amusement, Molly shifted so that she was leaning toward him just a little. It was incredibly rare, bordering on never, that she actually enjoyed talking to someone this much. Especially someone who was clearly trying to charm her, probably out of her dress. Miners, she thought, couldn’t be trusted not to sully a lady and she ought to be careful. But Lance was sweet, he was funny, he genuinely did make her laugh and she found herself hoping that sales or no sales he’d stay with her for a good while.
In the back of her mind she let herself dream a little about what it would be like if he were really interested in her, if he wanted to take her on a walk or something. If he brought her flowers or tokens like some of the other ladies got from admirers. She knew she couldn’t let that happen even if he wanted it to, knew that she had other responsibilities, but it was nice to dream a bit.
“I’ll have you know I get plenty of compliments,” she pointed out, grinning right back at him. “And they all want something more than a smile in return.” So maybe he was right that it had been a while since anyone had gone the right way about it. It was definitely a nice change.
***
"See? Definitely not going about the compliments in the right way," he replied knowingly. Molly definitely got all kinds of compliments but considering how quickly she'd reminded him that the Brothel was just down the street? She probably got the worst kind of compliments a woman could get and he really wished that wasn't the case. She deserved a lot better than that as far as he was concerned.
Lance spent the whole rest of the night chatting with her, throwing in his fair share of compliments when the time was right. He tried to keep her smiling up until he finished off his fifth glass of whiskey. That was when he turned his glass upside down to indicate that he was done and that it was time to settle up his tab.
"I'm afraid to say our time together is at an end tonight," he declared valiantly. "And it was probably the best night I've had in years." Lance wasn't even exaggerating. She was wonderful and exciting and kind, and she really did have the prettiest smile he'd ever seen in his whole life. He slid what he owed her across the bartop.
"Thank you," he added, very sincerely. It'd been a great night off and he knew he'd want to take his friends tomorrow.
***
At some point in the evening she moved off the bar to sit next to him, her hand sitting just a little closer to his than she really needed it to, always leaning in toward him, always interested and always smiling. She hadn’t laughed so much in too long, maybe ever but definitely not since she’d lost her parents, and he was one of very few times she could think of that someone had come in for a few drinks and not immediately made her hate her job. It had been exactly what she’d needed tonight, and whether or not she saw him again she’d hold onto it, a reminder that not all the men who asked for her were terrible.
“I hope you’ll come back soon.” Equally sincere in saying it, Molly just tucked his money away and slid out of her seat, chose to do so in a way that took her close enough that she could dart in and kiss his cheek before quietly slipping off to be much more bored by someone much less handsome.
He hadn’t asked but she didn’t mind.