the dog king (markedman) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-05-15 04:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [05] may, adelaide hawkins, ian terrell, james hawkins |
make me an angel that flies from montgomery
Who: Sarge, Rodeo, and the Mystery Pen Pal
Where: Austin Flea Market grounds
What: Just a routine meet-and-greet with a long-distance traveler.
When: May 15, 11:00 AM
Rodeo hates the wait the most.
He tries to look relaxed, but he reckons Sarge knows better. He's leaning against a glass case full of antique pins, some glittering brooches and some age-darkened war medals. He tried looking at all of them, trying to place the medals, but he couldn't keep his eyes down for long. Now he's trying to nurse a cigarette as he does his best to avoid gluing his eyes to the entrance like an over-eager puppy. His attempts at holding it together are valiant but not entirely successful. He knows this is a waste of his time. It's always a waste of time. But he can't stop. He'll never stop looking for her.
His men are loyal. Most are out of sight, waiting in the stands nearby, silent sentries that came here without questions or judgements. No one tells him that it's foolish to put his life and the lives of his men on the line again and again this way. As long as it's common knowledge that the Dog King is looking for someone, it's going to be common knowledge how to get to him. He knows this, and he knows his men must know it too. But they never say it, and they never refuse.
Sarge is waiting next to him, which is both comforting and not. The only thing worse than another defeat is having a witness. He glances over Sarge's way, wondering if his best friend feels as anxious as he does. "Who we gonna get to cook up this steak for us?" he asks, the corner of his mouth pulling up in an attempt at a casual smirk. "Not Bram's old lady. She always turns my Spam into a brick."
There's no time for Sarge's answer. Rodeo looks away, gaze darting to the door as it opens.