Who: Vic & Willa Where: Outskirts of the nightly bonfire, Dog Park What: Vic wants to meet the woman causing so much fuss in his friends' lives When: September 1, night
Despite the few days she'd spent in the camp, it was the first time Willa had gone down to the night fire by herself. Bode would be there somewhere, and staying inside his house all of the time was beginning to feel more conspicuous than socializing, even if he wasn't exactly introducing her to his friends. If she stood by the edges, back from the fire and apart from the most outgoing of the revelers, it could be possible to observe without being observed too carefully herself, or so Willa had hoped.
Instead, no more than ten yards away, was a giant hulk of a man, bald head reflecting the light of the fire where he stood, inches above the other (not exactly petite) men with snarling wolves on their backs, dark eyes clearly trained exactly on her person. Willa shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the attention unlike what seemed to be every other female in the vicinity. She wouldn't give up her ground, but all the same she wished he would find someone else to watch. And then he moved, skirting around some of the others and giving her a clearer picture of him, one of his arms (the size of her thighs, it looked like) swaddled in a sling wrapped close to his chest. Willa didn't flinch as he approached, each of them clearly aware of the other.
"You must be Willa," Vic said once he was near enough to her, voice pitched a little louder than its usual level, wanting to be heard over the usual din of the bonfire. It was a politeness, of course; who else could she be? But the distance gave him space to pretend he didn't know what he did about the mess she was in with Teagan and Bishop. Anything more familiar than what he'd said and he'd have to be worried his feelings on the matter would come through unconsciously.
His right arm was pulled up in its sling, so he gave her a benign grin instead of offering his hand to shake. "You planning on staying here long?" He meant both the bonfire and the camp, of course, though he'd go with whichever interpretation she went with first. As Enforcer -- not that he'd been able to do much of that, lately -- it was his job to suss out the Dog Park's newest inhabitants. He'd been slacking.
She nodded, returning his smile with one of her own, perhaps a bit less easy, which she undoubtedly was, intruding on his home. "I am," Willa agreed, keeping her eye contact. Everyone seemed to have heard about her by now; even though she felt sure that Bode hadn't shared everything about their reunion, moving her into his house had become a piece of gossip. "And… I don't really know. Probably not." Her shoulders shrugged, and now she let her eyes stray from the stranger back toward the fire for a moment, leaving plenty unsaid by way of her answer. "Seems like I came at a bad time. Sorry," Willa added, looking back - "I don't know your name?"
He watched her carefully, noting the lack of conviction conveyed by her body language as well as her words. Vic was partial to Teagan in the battle for Bishop's heart that was apparently under siege, of course. But Zhenya's death had made him soft; he couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the woman in front of him right now. "I'm Vic," he said, gesturing with his cup towards an empty pair of seats. "One of Bishop's friends. And there ain't ever a good time these days, from where I can see."
Grateful that he didn't seem to be interested in walking away once he was sure of her identity, Willa's eyes followed his hand to the pair of beat up lawn chairs. She nodded and moved, dragging one chair around so they could talk without having to twist their necks or feel strange sitting side by side, and then settled. "Have you always called him Bishop?" she asked, a curiously amused smirk on her lips. "It's strange for me, trying to think of him with a different name." Maybe he was a different person, for all she knew. There were hints of the man she'd loved, more than hints when they were alone, but this family he had made for himself didn't seem to know the old Bode. She couldn't begrudge him the chance to reinvent himself - she'd done it herself after all, even if the name had stayed the same - but there was still a healthy helping of irony, trying to marry her awareness of a troublemaker, an unrepentant sinner, a man unconcerned with eternity, bearing a title that doubled as clergy.
"I knew him as Bode, first, when we met." The men had only met two years ago, but it felt like a lifetime to Vic nonetheless. He could understand why Bishop was all mixed up about someone from his past, from before, coming in and shaking things up. "Our King's got a thing for nicknames if you haven't noticed by now."
Vic leaned back in his chair, aware of how rickety it was and careful to not push it too far back with his weight. "I'm guessing it's some kinda homage to his being our 'Chaplain,' if he hasn't told you that part." Nicknames and titles; that was just the way they related to each other in this family that meant so much to him. "If you stick around here, I'll bet you end up with your own soon enough."
"Annie Oakley," she answered wryly. It was funny, the way the appeal of a nickname could drop once you knew it was common rather than special; the same way Willa hated Bishop's endless string of darlins. "I came in on my horse with a shotgun on my back and a pistol strapped to my leg, so." Somehow, she didn't think Bode would much appreciate if she was the one to explain to Vic that years ago she had inadvertently replaced him with a preacher's son, though it felt like a distinct possibility he'd told the story enough already, given how easily identified she was by a handful of people in the camp. Apparently whatever vengeful ruler was out there wanted her to have a godly man in her life one way or another, though how Bode had found God in this fucking mess completely eluded her. "What's Vic mean, then?"
Vic nodded approvingly; he hadn't seen Willa's famed entrance for himself, but he'd heard plenty about it from some of the bitches who were upset about having one of their men tied up more ways than one. "Rodeo's a little behind on popular culture," he said, purposefully leaving out the part where the man barely understood technology. "My name's Viktor Arkadyevich but no one calls me that. I bet no one even knows that's really it. I been going by Vic for as long as I can remember, but the King'll sometimes call me medved' grizli, which means 'grizzly bear.'" He shrugged. "My wife taught him how to say it."
Willa smiled, warmer and more genuine this time. "Kind of a fitting choice on her part, I have to say." She relaxed into the chair, less gingerly than Vic had been, though it seemed more likely to support her weight than Medved' Grizli's. "Rodeo isn't his real name, is it?" Willa turned her head, looking to see if he was anywhere to be found before adding the last. "Otherwise his mama has a nasty sense of humor."
"Nah." He mimicked her, glancing around at first before confiding, "His name's James. But you didn't hear that from me." He's always thought 'Rodeo' a fitting name for their King, a man who always knew how to orchestrate a spectacle. But as much as he'd love to go through all the officers' nicknames with the woman, Vic's a little concerned about their safety. Willa knew how to get out to the camp, and if she isn't staying for very long, well. She's going to have to leave in a way that ain't gonna bring potential trouble out their way. "Pardon my asking, but why isn't it a good time for you to stay?" he asked then, though Vic has a feeling he knows the answer already.
"Come on." Willa still smiled but now in disbelief, her head rolling to the side. "You know why, everyone knows why." She sighed, searching for the right words. "I came out for Bode, and it fucked everything up for him. If he wasn't telling me to stay, I probably would have left already, it's just…" Willa's hand pulled at the back of her neck, stalling for time. "If you could keep this between us, I'd appreciate it but -- You have a wife; you can't tell me that if even if you'd been separated before the fallout, you wouldn't come to see she's okay, once you heard where she was. I'm not trying to take him from her, but I'm never not going to care about him, either."
"I knew the general idea, but those little details help flesh it out." It's clear that Willa is under the impression that his wife is still alive. Vic hadn't provided any clarification otherwise, but the assumption hurt nonetheless. Still, though, it wasn't her fault. "I'd do the exact same thing," he said, shrugging his good shoulder. "Ain't no doubt about that. You don't stop feeling something like that even if you don't want to be with them anymore." There's still that concern, though, about her presence there at the Park and what it'd mean if she left. "Do you have some place to go if you end up leaving camp? If Rodeo doesn't have a problem with it, it seems to me the Park is plenty big for the both of y'all." Life in Austin proper wasn't safe for someone on her own.
Willa took a moment to think, staring at the warm glow of the fire silhouetting the figures gathered nearest the flames. She had some place to go, even if she had been grateful for the assignment that took her away from it. Richland was more than most could lay claim to and yet for Willa it was full of ghosts, some of them even more treacherous than Bode and his new girl. She would go back; it wasn't a question. But whether or not she was eager to get there soon...
"I have some place I can go if I need to," she said finally, looking back at Vic. "We run a ranch up north. If I can't find a feed source for my horse in a few days I'll have to go back regardless of who wants me to stay or who wants me to leave. I didn't know y'all were so burnt out by the gas, still."
Vic knew now, after Rodeo's little speech at the last Chapel, that the rumors were true: there was a world outside of Austin. And the woman in front of him was walking, talking proof of that. "It ain't like that up near where your ranch is?" He'd assumed, somehow, that the gas had been dropped in some kinda coordination effort all over the United States. "I guess it wouldn't be fair for you to make your horse get by on canned food like we've been doing."
She laughed at the notion of feeding Juniper canned goods, shaking her head at the suggestion. It wouldn't be good for the horse, never mind the amount of provisions the livestock could eat their way through in even a week. "There's a lot more green out there," Willa supplied, though she didn't specify where. "Still have to run off the grid, still have to fend off the biters, but -" Willa hesitated, not wanting to seem critical of what's been set up around her. "I guess we aim to be more self-sustaining." It was the diplomatic way of phrasing it to be sure. This compound lived off what they could steal and scavenge from the waste, rather than doing the work needed to lay their own stores. "You need a strong will and a deep well," she added, giving Vic an easy excuse for why this compound wasn't eating like kings. "Without a steady supply of clean water, you can't sustain a greenhouse, can't water any kinda stock."
He bit the inside of his cheek just enough to remind himself to not laugh. The Hellhounds had their own private, uncontaminated supply of fresh water and it was the main reason why they'd been able to manage so long on their own, but he wasn't about to share that with Willa. Bringing up Josh's greenhouse plans would open up questions about their water supply, too. "We make do on our own," he said instead, though he couldn't help but appreciate her blunt way of speaking and the criticisms she's noticed. He's already decided that Willa's a woman who's sure of herself, even someplace she ain't welcome. Vic was happy to play diplomat with her; it was a nice reminder of what his life was like before all of this. "Sounds like if you got the green space to do it, you're already halfway there."
It was Willa's turn to bite her tongue, holding back the more caustic observation that 'getting by on their own' included killing men who drove supply trucks. "More than halfway," she admitted, holding to honesty whenever possible. "Got veg and meat and dairy enough to last through most seasons. We're smaller though, fewer than forty, counting children. Nothing like this place."
"I bet it's a sight for sore eyes." Vic allowed himself to briefly imagine the place, wondering again what life outside of Austin was like. It was fucking weird talking to someone who'd seen it, to think about small groups of people clustering together and managing together.
After a pause, Willa gave a slow nod. Richland was infinitely more pastoral, but the Hellhound camp was far more complex of a machine, with what looked to be over a hundred inhabitants and a hierarchy prescribed by rank and class. Maybe now she can ask and get a straight answer. "Can I ask you something that's maybe a stupid question?"
"Yeah. What's bothering you?"
"Bode has me in his house even though it got him in a fight with his girl, and all he'll tell me is that he'll lock me in before he has me me sleep in a tent." Her hand gestured behind them, to the mess of dwellings set back from the fire. At least three dozen tents could be found by strolling through the chaotic jumble, even though half of them seemed to never have occupants. Was it some sort of tactic to make the camp look larger? For all that the men in the camp gave a particular first impression - thick, rough, and potentially dangerous - Willa hadn't come across one yet who wanted to threaten her safety or would-be virtue. The days were so blisteringly hot that sleeping outside might even be something of a relief, and yet she was in the loft with the cats. "'the fuck is wrong with a tent, and why is he in trouble with her for not putting me in one?"
Vic's disagreed with Bishop's decision to shack Willa up in his home ever since he found out about it. "Ain't nothing wrong with putting you in a tent," he said slowly, not wanting to seem as though he's speaking for Bishop. "Maybe he's trying to be polite or something like that. It may be he doesn't want you staying in the same place that a bitch'd usually be in." Another topic altogether, if she hadn't heard about that yet. "But it kinda makes it look like you're his old lady, like y'all are shacking up again. The thing he's got going on with our Queen of Spades ain't all that well known around here, but given that Teagan hasn't even been living with him and now you've moved in, whether you wanted to or not?" He shrugged. "It's not what I would've done."
Old Lady she understood from television, but as the rest of it sank in, Willa's mind settled on one suspicious point: what was a bitch? "He's not sleeping there. We're not getting back together," she stated first, because that was likely the most important point to stress. "I mean, I admit I wondered a bit when I was riding out here, and when he first offered to have me stay. But he told me about Teagan that night, and I'm not a homewrecker any more than Bode's a cheater. It's just not in me to do that to someone."
"I believe you." He really did, too. If she was angling to be Bishop's old lady, Vic had a feeling she would've made that clear to him right off the bat.
Willa was trying to keep her tone free of judgment still, unsure in this environment whether infidelity was as much of a fault as it was outside the walls, considering the suspicions that had risen regarding what Vic had meant to imply about the occupants of tents. It was grating, considering the man didn't see any problem with her fitting into this level of social hierarchy, but she had to ask. "You're saying the women in the tents are what? Groupies? Whores?"
Vic paused, taking advantage of his drink to postpone answering, before speaking slowly. It was a delicate subject, especially when your conversation partner was a woman. "I guess 'groupies' is a good term. Ain't anyone getting paid round here for company, and no one's being held against their will. The women like it here, as much as I can tell." He looked evenly over at Willa. "It's a dog pun, the name. I think so anyway. And as Enforcer I can tell you I don't often have to remind the men that the women get their say in who they're spending their time with."
"You provide them with food and water and protection, and they provide you with sex." It was the most primitive form of commercial exchange. Personally Willa would have wanted there to be a better distribution of women who were club members and men who were provided for, but she'd always been on the far-left spectrum of most everyone she knew, and the Hellhound Camp seemed to be anything but. She looked at him, the enforcer who would have put her on offer for dozens of men to pursue, with a level stare. "That's why he put me in his house," Willa answered. "I like sex," she continued, demolishing any chance of the impression of herself as a prude, "but it's not something I'll barter with." Would Teagan have ever done such a thing? Somehow, she doubted it; if the Queen of Spades was an officer herself, Willa suspected her title was more to do with knives than hearts.
"Being in a tent doesn't automatically mean you start putting out. Hell, I sleep in a tent myself. All I'm trying to say is that I don't get why he wouldn't have set you up with something nice near to his home, where he could still come by and check on you, y'all could still talk on whatever you have to talk about. But I suspect he must have his reasons. That's all." She was the one who'd brought up the bitches. Well, no -- he had, technically. "No one would've needed to mistake you for anything else but a visitor, and if they did you wrong in any way they'd have to answer to me." Not that he was in any shape to take care of trouble.
She had spent her whole life living as someone regularly spoiling for a fight, and the last five years taking up the mantle as a defender of society as a whole. Instinct urged her to keep going, to poke at the Russian bear with an even sharper stick, but Willa's head turned away instead, and she took a slow, deep breath. "If people want to get by like that, it's their choice," she offered. "I'm not saying I'm above them. Nobody's better than you, and you ain't better than anybody -- that's what my mother used to say. And I'm sure I'd be safer sleeping on the ground in a tent inside this place than I will be, wherever I wind up heading next."
"Ain't that the truth, all of it." He grinned at her, already considering the woman as a part of the Dog Park whether she -- or Teagan -- liked it or not. Vic took his cues from Bishop, and until the man made the choice to throw the woman out he'd follow suit. He felt better about her stay now that they'd had a chance to get to know each other a little better.
Still, he couldn't stay all night. Vic lifted himself to his feet, already sighting a patch he'd said he'd talk to that evening about some kinda dispute he had going on. "Welcome to the Dog Park, Willa. Good luck with whatever you end up in now that you're here."
"Thank you." Willa returned his smile though she kept her seat. He wouldn't have wished her luck if he knew what she was in already, but she needed it, and she would take it. She raised her hand in a still wave goodnight, watching as he caught up with one of the other men before sighing under her breath, "Bitches."