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Post by anskee5 on Aug 4, 2012 4:50:51 GMT -8
The Cactus Thorn was a small bar off the beaten path whose frequent customers were Mexicans and scoundrels. Serving mostly rot gut whiskey Doc had his own high quality brand kept locked up in the storage room. The owner was a little bald headed man with a squeaky voice named Adler Franklin.
When Doc entered he was immediately shown to a backroom where he would have privacy. The only sound was a piano and the low hum of a few customers. Adler Franklin brought in one of Doc's bottles and two clean glasses.
"Good to see you again, Dr. Holliday," he spoke in a as he laid the bottle and glasses down. "You need anything just ask for it."
"Thank you, Adler," he nodded to him . After the little man left Doc broke the seal on the bottle and poured him and Nancy a drink. "To friends," he lifted his glass and drank it down.
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 4, 2012 16:14:48 GMT -8
Upon entering the establishment and seeing the patrons inside, she deducted this was no place for a man such as this one. More so, she felt right at home in the company of scoundrels and thieves. The small, bald-headed man led them to a backroom and a part of Nancy felt a bit trapped. The sounds of the customers in the bar were comforting as she could hide any discrepancies beneath them but in this room, she was more or less on her own. It was mostly quiet, with a dash of background noise coming through the walls.
She listened to the man as he spoke, as well as flashing a rather emotionless stare his way. He seemed to recognize Doc and Nancy was sure he'd been a customary patron in the bar and around the town itself. The man seemed to notice Nancy's strange stare and furrowed his brows, confused, before leaving. Nancy sat in a chair and watched as she was poured a glass. As he said, "to friends," she couldn't help but feel an urge to correct him but instead flashed a smirk and poured one down the hatch.
It was rather smooth to her, at least this sampling had been. Most things these days were smooth to her worn throat, though, as she'd been drinking away her troubles for some time. But, by-damned, she still found it hard to choke down some things if she had nothin' to chase it down with. But this was not that, it was certainly of a higher quality than what the patrons outside were being given. "That's some ace-high shit, ain't it? You must be a special man 'round these parts." She smiled. |
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Post by anskee5 on Aug 5, 2012 0:01:51 GMT -8
He chuckled at her comment. "Well, I don't know about that but a little money in the right places goes a long ways," he told her as he continued to drink. The whiskey, especially the quality brands, helped ease the pain in his chest and quell the coughing fits plus it tasted so much better.
"Now, are you hungry, me dear? The food here is tolerable but they do serve a good steak. Would you care to order something?"
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 8, 2012 21:16:26 GMT -8
She smirked and tilted her head slightly. "So, you're a man of money?" It was to be taken as a joke of sorts but all the while she would mark it down that h e was. "I am quite hungry. I'll have what you're havin', dahlin', since you know what's good 'round here." She placed her arms on the table and crossed them. |
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Post by anskee5 on Aug 9, 2012 4:23:48 GMT -8
"So, you're a man of money?"Doc laughed at her comment. "Let's just say I have my ways," he grinned. Looking at the server he ordered her a steak, fried potatoes, succotash, coffee and dessert. For himself he ordered beef stew and a biscuit.
"I am not a big eater," he coughed into a handkerchief as he looked at her. "So, you agreed to eat with me in exchange for telling me about yourself. Where you born? What was your family life like? Feel free to elaborate," he waved his hands in the air then coughed again. As though performing a a slight of hand act he pulled out a flask and took a deep drink before slipping it back into his coat pocket.[/size]
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 10, 2012 5:47:21 GMT -8
The meal he ordered her her sounded wonderful. Holding up her part of the bargain, she began. "My family life." Her eyes seemed to go blank and were transfixed on the wall behind Doc, but she wasn't staring at anything in particular. "I never had much of a family. My dad wasn't a good man. My mother died giving birth to me. I had an older brother and sister." Her brow furrowed a bit and she smirked at him. "We were constantly moving." Her father made a living out of being a peddler, selling off as many goods as he could in one town and then moving on to the next, in search of any fortunes he could find. They'd never been rich and Nancy never expected to be, at least if they followed in their father's footsteps.
Little did she know she'd grow into an outlaw, dubbing the life of a thief a better way to earn her wages. Nancy tried not to pay much attention to his coughing, but part of her felt bad, knowing he was severely ill. She looked over at him and continued her story. "We ventured out into Colorado. The winter was harsh but we managed to make do. My father and I made it out of the wildnerness alive. My brother and sister weren't so fortunate." There were many times that Nancy wondered what her life would've been like had her siblings lived. She wondered if she would've felt love that she had so desperately desired. |
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Post by anskee5 on Aug 10, 2012 7:09:12 GMT -8
He could see things she tried to keep hidden away; fear, pain, sorrow. She had endured the feelings of abandonment and great loss and suffered at the hands of those who used her for their own gain and had no recourse than to protected herself behind a facade of stone and indifference.. It made him want to cry for her. To beat back the demons that haunted and pursued her. He also suffered at the hands of similar demons.
As he listened his body was wracked by a harsh coughing fit that overwhelmed him. Bending over he coughed and gasped over and over, dabbing blood and phlegm from his mouth before being able to drink the only elixir he found that soothed his coughing and relieved the pain in his chest. Whiskey.
Regaining his composure he noticed others looking his way with curious, disdainful looks, looks he had to endure when ever his lungs rebelled.
"Forgive me," he apologized to Nancy as he took several more drinks. "Please continue," he spoke to her as he replaced the soiled handkerchief for a newer, cleaner one. He kept several with him at all times.
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 20, 2012 17:01:06 GMT -8
"I don't really have much else to say 'bout myself. I went off on my own after a while." Nancy withheld the information of her "incarceration" in the aslyum as well as her criminal behavior and tendency to want to kill the father that ruined everything for her. Though she'd had her fair share of hardships, she was sure that others had as well and a lot of the time, she didn't feel comfortable talking about her problems. This man was clearly dying yet he wanted to learn more about her miserable life. Couldn't be good for him.
Nancy had stopped caring long ago. She didn't listen to other people's hardships, if she could avoid it. When someone did manage to tell her something, she felt mostly a mixture of emptiness and disdain. But for this man, there was a tad bit of remorse thrown in. He clearly wasn't a bad man, the only thing he was guilty of in her eyes was his willingness to believe in a god that had done nothing for him and had yet to prove his existence.
Her dealings with religion and opinions on it were forged through experience. From a young age, she had her doubts but always said she believed. Somewhere deep down, though, she knew there was nothing out there for her. What she had seen from God so far was that he left her alone with an abusive, drunkard father and a world filled with overzealous sheep. And here was this man that was dying, slowly and painfully at that. A small scowl crossed her features and she soon was distracted by the server, who brought them their food.
The woman's eyes seemed to grow wider at the sight of such a feast. The aroma created a sense of warmth and comfort she hadn't known in quite a while. It told her she'd be okay, she'd survive. Soon enough she'd have to quit mooching and begin working for her food and money but she didn't figure that'd be too much of a problem. Without much hesitance, she began eating the steak first and working on the sides at a slightly less frenzied pace. She was incredibly hungry as she hadn't eaten since morning yesterday. |
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Post by anskee5 on Aug 20, 2012 21:31:42 GMT -8
When the food came Doc watched with delight as the young woman began to wolf down the meal. This meal would sustain her for several days.. He took a few bites of the stew and half a buttered biscuit before he lit up yet another cigarillo and poured yet another glass of whiskey.
"Do you have any family, darlin'?" he asked her. "Surely a mother or father who wonder where you are? Perhaps brothers and sisters who are looking for you? No one has no one," he took another drink. "Even I have family back in Georgia that I write to every few months or so. My first cousin, Mattie, answers my letters quite often."
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 25, 2012 16:27:03 GMT -8
For a moment, Nancy stared at him. "My father is the only thing left of the family I once had. My grandparents died while I was young and we were never much for our extended family." The sheer mention of family brought a bad taste to her mouth and made her stomach churn. She bit at her cheek's skin and went on, looking down at her plate all the while. "My dad ain't nowhere 'round here. He left me alone after a while." That was a lie but he didn't have to know that. Without lifting her gaze from her plate, she continued eating, but at a much slower pace than before.
Before long, a tinge of paranoia set in. She felt eyes on her and looked around for the culprit. A random consumer that was only perusing the other patrons of the bar happened to linger a bit longer on her than she liked. Flashing a look of annoyance toward him, he looked away. She turned her attention back to her plate, brows staying furrowed for a moment too long. Her defense mechanism had been the same way for some time now and it was to induce fear upon those she feared. In this case, someone who might have known who she really was. |
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Post by anskee5 on Aug 26, 2012 19:44:13 GMT -8
So that was the problem. Her father had either done something or not done something to her. He had either beat her, molested her or neglected her. Anyway, she was a wounded soul and looking for a way to heal herself. His prospects of sleeping with her just went to nil.
"Please do not take what I'm about to say the wrong way but do you have a safe place to sleep or live?" he asked her. "Somewhere where you can lay your head and not be worried about being hurt or taken advantage of? I'm not asking for personal reasons but for your sake."
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Aug 27, 2012 15:23:49 GMT -8
She perked up for a moment and grinned, mischievously. "Nah, hun, I don't have a place to stay, I usually just go home with whoever'll pay for it." In Nancy's opinion, a woman's body was a weapon and a tool that she could use to her advantage. Sex was a normal part of life and people enjoyed it, so she saw no reason not to make money off of it. She hadn't introduced herself to it because she needed the money, though she sort of had needed it and especially did now, but because she felt no reason not to. Some might say she had no morals and she'd agree with them, because she felt morals were very much tied into religion and merely another set of ridiculous rules.
She felt he might not appreciate her "occupation" of sorts, but she didn't feel he'd abandon her because of it. He seemed like a nice guy who genuinely cared about others, including herself. It was probable he was the type who believed in love, the type that was lucky enough to have it, and for a moment she felt a pang of admiration. Though she was viewed as an individual with a bitter and hateful personality, she did desperately want love. Many aspects of her life had been centered around the love she desired. |
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Post by anskee5 on Sept 4, 2012 20:19:57 GMT -8
"Consider it paid for," he answered her. "What's your price? Name it and I will pay it. That way I know you've had a good meal in your belly and a warm place to rest your head for the night and, in the morning, my conscious will be healed over," he looked at her and took a long draw from his cigararillo.
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Post by Nancy Mercer on Sept 10, 2012 3:55:25 GMT -8
The woman's eyes cut up at him and she smiled. "How much ya got?" Honestly, a night's stay at a place was a good offer to a drifter. The money was just a precaution for any sex that might ensue. But, the man had already bought her a meal and was now offering her a place to stay. She thought about that for a minute before shaking her head, slightly. "Actually, y'know what? Don't worry 'bout payin'." |
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