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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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.

Ennis holds his hand out to her, and it shakes.

"Not what matters."

"Don't shoot there."

Ennis makes his own face right back at her.

River isn't perturbed.

Patient, if anything; a sort of dry, friendly patience, like a tutor allowing a momentary tangent. But unperturbed.

And Ennis waits, watching.

This could go on a while.

River breaks it, though, after the silence stretches a few moments more. "Don't," she tells his trembling hand.

Not a command. A restatement: You don't.

Ennis looks at her like she's the one missin' something.

"Ain't nothin' but my finger on this trigger."

It's River's turn again to make a face.

You know better, it says. But gently; her eyes are warm.

She lifts her hands slowly. The fingertips of her left hand brush his forehead lightly, and move down to hover over his eyes, not quite touching.

The right hand, just as gentle, touches his battered button-down shirt, just over his heart.

Ennis follows her hand, swallowing hard and reaching up to put his own hand over hers.