Bode 'Bishop' Coldiron (minorpiece) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-06-23 01:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [06] june, bode coldiron, james hawkins |
Who: Bishop Coldiron and Rodeo Hawkins
Where: Rodeo’s trailer
What: Heavy things need discussing/book club brothers hanging.
When: Backdated to June 21st - After Chapel.
Bishop’s blood was still running cold from the news deliver in Chapel. As expected there had been a lot of cursing, shouting, drinking and ill advised plans thrown out there as to ways the Dogs could exact revenge. That last one had just been the alcohol and anger talking, mostly. Didn’t mean he hadn’t had to step in and do his fair share of talking guys off of the ledge. He didn’t like the fact that their hands were tied anymore than the next guy did, but trying to bring their own brand of outlaw justice into the Capitol was only going to end one way.
All their sorry asses locked up in La Quinta.
He wasn’t exactly looking to make himself a resident of the Capitol and he wasn’t about to go letting anyone else be fool enough to wind up there either.
Though for the time being that was someone else’s concern. Bishop had, in his opinion, more important business to attend to. Rodeo had asked for his ear after Chapel, and the Hellhounds Chaplain was more than happy to oblige. Not because Rodeo was the Dog King, but because of all the men in this camp, Rodeo was one of his closest friends. If the man needed a listening ear and an opinion, he’d always get one.
Bishop wound his way through camp, the path to the other man’s trailer a familiar one. His usual habit of stopping and talking with everyone was replaced with a more brisk approach when someone stopped him to ask about the news already filtering through the Dog Park’s grapevine. Wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, he just lacked any sort of energy to relive the details over and over again. Hearing it once had been enough to chill him to the bone, listening to ‘em over and over again only made him wish that their hands weren’t fucking tied. Wish that somehow, some way they could weasel their way behind Capitol walls and find the bastard who thought carving up women was fun. To keep from letting these thoughts consume him, Bishop would take only a few moments to give a rushed explanation of the information he had and quickly be back on his way. Even going so far as to out and out ignore Cherry when she latched onto his arm just outside of Rodeo’s trailer and tried to get all the dirty details out of him. Or just simply get his attention, with her a person never could tell.
This time he didn’t even offer up the little bit of information he knew, instead he simply disengaged her with a shake of his arm, and a shove (though he may deny that last part) freeing himself from the motor mouthed bitch. Never once looking at her while he did so, he heard somewhere that you don’t make eye contact with a predator...and Cherry was one hell of a predator.
Once rid of the nuance otherwise known as Cherry, Bishop climbed the stairs to Rodeo’s trailer, rapping his knuckles against the door to announce his presences, he called out. “You better be decent in there,” before he tried the door and found it to be unlocked. “Because I ain’t standing out on your stoop like some damn vacuum salesman,” Bishop finished while stepping into the trailer. “Or giving Cherry a chance to accost me again.”