e_delmar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Ennis Del Mar's been a stubborn bastard from the day he was born, and he'll be a stubborn old bastard until the day he dies. Maybe longer. Which'd be why, once things'd calmed down with Sallie and all, he went stormin' out of the house, intent on takin' a walk on his own for once.

It's slow going, ain't no doubt about that, and he can't help his foot draggin' a little that way it does when he's gettin' tired.

click, woooosh

click, woooosh

click, wooo-

There's a clinking sound as his foot hits something metal and small, a can. And maybe he can't help smilin', neither, as he picks it up and sets it on a fencepost off in a quiet corner.

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Her face relaxes.

Seriously, "There's metal."

Polish, says the can in faded letters of spotty red, above half a Blue Sun logo. The rest is torn off.

Ennis nods, once, twice, and pulls out from his pocket the Colt .45 he's had for months (years) now.

River looks down at his hands, and the object in them.

Her expression doesn't change immediately -- he might be holding a stick, or a second can, or a handful of loose change -- but slowly, very slowly, her focus sharpens.

When she lifts her eyes to Ennis's face, there's a cool consideration in her gaze that wasn't there before.

"Always said I couldn't do it."

Can't do it.

Cheater.

Crybaby.

Didn't last long.

River watches his face -- mostly; her gaze goes wandering a little, because this is River -- and listens.

"He's wrong."

And if Ennis notices he wasn't talkin' in past tence, he don't show it.

Soft, "I know it."

River's hardly one to complain about unclear verb tenses and antecedents. And maybe she understands anyway; or maybe she doesn't, but she comprehends what's underneath.

Ennis hears her, or may he don't, but either way he nods, and his hands reach down to pick up the gun. They shake -- seems they don't do nothin' but, lately -- and he has to support his right hand with his left, like he's holdin' a rifle or somethin' instead of just a semiautomatic.

But then the shaking's stopped, just for a moment, and there's the ting of metal against metal and that can ain't on the fence no more.

And River grins at him as if he's just won a goal or the whole tournament, as if they're dancing together, the kind of quick flash of a grin that makes her whole face light up.

Ennis looks pleased, almost like he weren't sure he could do it, but he coughs, and he turns and grins at her.

"Told you," River says, smug as the

(you are such a brat)

little sister she is, and she's still grinning at him, happy and proud and a little conspiratorial.

"Guess you did."

He's still grinning, and wondering just how long it'd take him to get the can set up, maybe further back.

"Always right," she informs him, just as smug and maybe even more impish.

He raises an eyebrow, a laughing smile on his face and he nods his head towards the fallen can.

"What I gotta do t'get you t'set that up?"

River considers that.

"We'll call it a donation," she informs him cheerfully. "This time."

She takes her time about it -- bending to examine the can, turning it over in her fingers, setting it very carefully in the exact center of the fencepost and then examining it a moment more before she turns to Ennis for approval.

Ennis nods, slowly, and motions for her to return, 'cause ain't no way in hell he's pickin' up that gun with her standing near the can.

River obeys.

It doesn't look as if she's paying any attention to the gun, and Ennis hasn't even picked it up again anyway, but the observant might notice that her path veers well clear of the line of fire.

Out of the path or not, he wait's 'till she's back by his side to pick up the gun. His hand ain't shakin' quite like it was last time, but he still brings up his left hand for support, squeezing the trigger once, softly, and smiling over at River at that sound that [mostly] don't make him think of KE anymore.

River crouches next to him while he lifts the gun, settles himself and shoots, and grins back at the sharp ping and the dull rattling thud of the falling can.

Ennis looks a bit more pleased'n he probably has any right to be, but that look ain't goin' nowhere. His gaze falls down to the gun, the one that weren't even his, and he smiles, running a hand across it.

River tilts her head slowly, and watches Ennis, or watches the horizon over his shoulder.

Ennis looks up at her, almost a bit shy, almost like he's apologizin' for something, but he ain't sayin' nothing out loud.

River studies him for a moment.

"Hit it," she says, and smiles slightly again.

"Mmmm."

Is all he says, but he's nodding and he's smiling and he's wishin' neither of 'em'd have to get up to put the can back.

"Didn't figure."

River makes a very slight face at him.