Who: Ennis and Bianca What: Meeting. Drinks. Tension. UST. When: Today? Where: Random bar
Bianca wasn't sure what she was expecting out of Ennis, but she was hopeful for the best. It had been a little while since she'd gotten together with Tony and she was beginning to get skittish - her medication remained constant, but her mood was not. She shifted uncomfortably after the 'port jump and sighed, glancing to the door of the hole in the wall that she'd picked out in the town. Hopefully Ennis wouldn't be too long.
Ennis wasn't sure why he'd agreed to meet Bianca, except that he was curious to meet her face to face, and he was thirsty. He could easily have gotten a drink with Jack, no shame in sitting at a bar with a same sex friend. And yet...He'd decided to head out to meet the woman. He tipped his hat as he approached, and held it over his chest.
She smirked at him as he approached. "Well, shit. Here I thought you'd been faking that 'polite cowboy' crap." She twirled on the stool and stood to offer her hand. "You are Ennis, right?" Because she didn't want to hit on the wrong guy and drive one she'd already been speaking to away ... really. She wasn't that horrible.
"I am," Ennis nodded. After making brief eye contact, he swung his arm up, replacing his hat on his head. He offered his hand, out of courtesy.
She shook his hand firmly and resisted the urge to lean into the handshake. "Then I owe you a beer." Bianca licked her lips and nodded to the stool next to her as she got back on her own.
"You do." Ennis spoke a lot less words than he typed on his newfangled side kick thing. He eased himself onto the stool, belatedly thinking he ought to have invited Jack to come with. Even if he'd made Jack sit by himself, Ennis would have felt more comfortable knowing he was nearby.
"Then what's your poison, cowboy?" She waved a twenty at the tender and ordered herself a double shot of whisky along with a beer for herself, waiting for Ennis to tell her his preference before she ordered one of those, too. Bianca picked up the glass of whisky and took a sip from it. "You're really from before now, huh?"
Ennis named his beer, and removed his hat again, this time setting it beside him on the bar. He fingered the brim, then forcibly shifted his hands to his lap. He wanted his beer, something acceptable to do with his hands.
"1983," he nodded. He had no memory of the last 25 years.
Bianca could think of plenty of things to do with his hands that she would consider appropriate. She nodded. "2022." Okay, so she had over forty years on him. That was something, wasn't it?
Skipping twenty-five years was impossible, Ennis thought. But falling back fifteen was just as unreal. He shook his head, grateful for the delivery of his beer. He mouthed the bottle before tilting back to swallow.
"How's that possible?" the bottle thudded against the bar top as his hand dropped down from his mouth.
"Well, if I'm going to believe that website - and I don't know if I do, even now - then it was some sort of vortex that sucked our asses up here." She finished her whisky with a sigh and a shake of her head.
Ennis mirrored the shake of her head. "Makes no sense." He rubbed at his jaw with the hand that didn't hold his beer.
"Some of the shit I've seen - and caused - I'm inclined to disagree. I'm just not sure why it would choose to bring people from different times."
"It," Ennis repeated, and that earned a sip of beer. He grunted as he swallowed. "It," he muttered again. Apparently, that's the part he's struggling with, most. With Jack present and accounted for and no sign of either wife or any kids, he wasn't sure what to think about it or anything else.
"Yeah, the fucking vortex. Ignoring that shit isn't going to make it go away," she pointed out with a smirk, "No matter how much you want it to. I mean, you could fuck until you forget about it for a while -- and I have -- but it doesn't just go away."
Ennis wasn't really used to women talking like that, and he felt himself react with a shocked look. he chased it away by taking another swig off his bottle.
Bianca let out a snorting laugh. "The women around you don't talk like that back home, cowboy?" She set her glass down and then picked up her own beer. "They probably wait until you get out of their fucking houses."
"You don't know nothing 'bout it," Ennis replied, voice rough. He shifted, indignant. His marriage may have ended, and it was true he loved someone else, more than he loved his wife, but he did love her. And vague or not, he wouldn't stand for anyone disrespecting the mother of his children.
"Most women are the same, Ennis. Hate to break it to you, but deep down we're all cold-hearted bitches." All right, so she was bitter. Being betrayed by your government did that to a girl.
"You shut your trap right now." His rational mind warned him to settle down. Unfortunately, Ennis' irrational mind always had more sway than not.
"Or you're going to what? Hit me? You hit your wife too, Ennis?" Bianca was not, in fact, a particularly nice woman. "Truth's not so sweet and kind."
His right hand wrapped around his bottle in a death grip. If the bottle were empty, he might have smashed it on the bar. His lips mashed, the nerve in his jaw twitched. "Don't hit m'wife." Which did not imply he would not hit her. He didn't, as a rule, hit women at all, though he was beginning to agree with Bianca's early statement that she was not a lady.
She smirked, taking a swig of her own beer. "Good." Bianca licked her lips, leaning on her elbows and looking at the man. "Your temper always this bad, or are you all shook up from getting sucked up out of nowhere?"
He flexed his fingers from around the bottle, then leaned back to take a sip. If nothing else, it bought him a few seconds to consider his answer. He had no answer. He pulled off the bottle, and drew it back to his lips, draining it.
"Y'don't talk 'bout a man's woman like that." Not strictly an answer, exactly.
"Wouldn't know. Most of the assholes I worked with didn't have significant others and I didn't either. To clarify, my temper's always been this bad." Or at least ... it had started being this bad about the time that she'd started taking the Copper.
Ennis tipped his head to the bar keep, to order another beer. He inclined his head toward Bianca, inquiring if she wanted another. He knew he had a temper, didn't mean he wanted to discuss it. He was intrigued by this woman, more than anything. She fascinated him.
Bianca nodded to the barkeep when Ennis silently inquired whether she wanted another drink. "You're not very good at starting conversation, are you? You might want to learn around me, or I have feeling we're going to get into a fight." As interesting as that might've been, she didn't want to have to kick his ass in public. Embarrassing for him and all.
"Don't talk much." Ennis answered, with a thread of honesty lacing the words. He wasn't a big talker, never had been. "Ain't got much t'say," he added, in an attempt to say something more.
His right hand fisted, fingers flexing. He wasn't interested in fighting her, but he was, admittedly, itching for a fight. For something.
She glanced to his fist. "You got something against fighting a girl? I guarantee I'd kick your ass six ways to Sunday." She at least had the grace to speak low in hopes that the bartender wouldn't listen her.
If Bianca was honest with herself, she was just as curious about Ennis as the man was about her.
"Tol' you, I don't hit women." Walls, cars, men. But not women. As a rule.
"Why?" Still curious. "Not like I'm some poor, defenseless little lamb. What if I hit you first?"
Ennis tilted his head. The barkeep set a drink in front of him, and his hand snaked out to take hold of it. He nodded his thanks, and shifted in his seat, waiting for the man to wander off. There is a distinct lack of verbal answer to Bianca's question.
She took her own drink and then glanced to Ennis again, arching her brow. "Well?" She wasn't about to just deck him in the middle of the bar, but she had been itching for a fight for some time, now. And if Ennis was willing to oblige ... "I try not to do much except work my job, fight, and fuck. Keeps things simpler."
"'Summin' you hit me first, and I've enough t'drink, 's likely I'll forget you're a woman." His dark eyes clouded a shade darker over the rim of his drink.
"Judging by how you're throwing those back, it'd take an awful lot to get to 'enough'. Figure skating coach of the stars or not, I'm not rich."
The most intriguing aspect, thus far, was her fixation on fighting him. He wanted to know why, but he wanted to figure it out for himself. He leaned back in his seat, beer in hand, slowly nursing a sip off the neck.
"Why me?" He finally asked. He was fairly certain, given her stature, that she could pack a pretty damn hard punch. Didn't mean he was keen on physically finding out.
"Why you? Well, you seemed like such a damn gentleman. Still do, all things considered." Gentlemen with bad tempers were still gentlemen. Bianca shrugged. "Maybe I have fetish for making people do unexpected things. Keeps things interesting, at least."
Bianca hated being bored.
His fingers twitched, tapping against his bottle. His other hand lay in his lap, fingers pressed against his thigh. She was definitely intriguing, and if he were a different man, or if he wasn't itching to get back to Jack and alone with Jack, he might have pursued fucking her against a wall, if not fighting first.
She might have told him she would join, if she thought he was into that and she knew his thoughts. "Damn, I never was good at doing all the talking." Most of her 'language' was through body movements, through actions and not words.
Ennis scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then patted down his pocket. He wanted a smoke. Something more to do with his hands. "Don't talk." Seemed simple enough to him.
Bianca might've been reading his mind, but she wanted a smoke of her own. She pulled a pack from her jacket and drew out one, hesitating before offering it to Ennis.
He hated that he'd been so obvious. Hated more that he nodded acceptance, and reached to take the offer. "Appreciate it," he muttered, words half slurred because he was more interested in the cigarette than the pliteness of thanking her.
She snorted, grabbing a cigarette of her own and placing it to her lips. She lit it and then tossed the lighter at him without asking whether he had one of his own. "Sure you do."
He felt his spine bristle. "I do."
"You know, I'm inclined to believe you," she took a drag from her cigarette, "but you didn't have to say so."
He visibly relaxed as he lit up and inhaled. He held the breath a moment, before releasing through his nose. "Still lookin' t'fight me?"
"You don't seem too keen on the idea, and it's no fucking fun if they don't hit back." She smirked.
Ennis grunted his response. His lips curled upward, for the briefest moment, around the circle of the cigarette. His lips closed around the stick, cheeks puffed as he inhaled.
Bianca did her best to look thoroughly put out. It wasn't as if she couldn't go and find Tony to ... relieve some tension, but Ennis looked more wound up than she was. "You got somewhere to go, cowboy? Before you snap yourself in half."
"Got m'horses need fed and watered." Ennis tipped his head back to drain his bottle. The glass thudded against the bar as he brought it back down, empty.
She arched her brow. "Right, then. Long as you've got something to do." She took a swig of her own beer - it was mostly-finished.
Ennis nodded. His hand moved to finger the crease of his well worn hat. Though he wouldn't consider this a date, he was reminded why he didn't date. Besides, things were so much easier with Jack, where words weren't needed and actions spoke louder than voices, anyway.
They did, but Bianca got the feeling that if she tried to snag Ennis now, she might get hit anyway. She glanced to the clock. "Should I be leaving you to your horses, then?"
"No reason t'stay." Dark eyes indicated the empty bottle in front of him. His right hand still had a death grip on it.
She slid off her stool and winked as she downed the rest of her beer. "Shame, though. Bet you're a great fuck." That said, she headed toward the door.
He grunted and tucked his head into his hat. A nod to the barkeep, and he slithered to his feet, sauntered toward the door and out into the night with the half smoked cigarette hanging off his lip.