cuddletalk | text | un: vaquero

[he reads that last message from vasquez and shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

robbie heads outside, zipping up his jacket as he exits. a cursory glance and he spots vasquez looking clearly out of sorts, dressed like he just stepped out of a john wayne film.]

Hey man. Nice hat. Let's go get some drinks. I'll show you how to work that phone.

[The trouble with being a six-foot-four cowboy in the middle of a strange place, with a bloody shirt is that it's hard not to call attention to yourself. Not to mention, Vasquez still isn't sure that people here aren't just waiting for the right moment to haul him in. Hand on his lasso, the only reason Reyes isn't tied up is because he'd seen the picture. Apparently the little devil box is worth some good]

I'm glad you said plural drinks. I've had the kind of day where you need more than one.

[Does everyone here get so eager to help? Or is he just in a city of naive, determined do-gooders, like they bled over from Rose Creek]

[if it's any consolation, robbie's really not all that phased by the bloody shirt or even the fact that he's the shorter one in this little encounter. seeing vasquez with his lasso makes him sorely miss his chain, but there's not really a need for it around here and the one time he'd taken it around with him people had looked at him like he was a thug or something.]

No point to going out for just one drink. My car's just across the way. [robbie points toward the charger, currently illegally parked under two oak trees about thirty feet from where they're standing. he moves toward said vehicle but not before a pointed look back at vasquez and a question that's been nagging him since he first spotted the man.]

So... is this cowboy get up the real deal?

[Vasquez is still keeping an eye over his shoulder every step he takes, especially when it seems like there are more people around than before. There are so many people than he's used to, not sure what's going on. That doubt doesn't exactly improve when Reyes shows him a great thing that looks as if the train has shrunken into something very strange. He tips a wary look to Reyes, scoffing as he does]

Not sure what you mean. You never seen a vaquero before, amigo? Just fancy cars?

[He says the word with a lot of doubt, because he's not really sure what a car is, even though he's got some ideas judging by the shape of it. The drink part, though, he's still very much wanting a drink]

I take it there's no horses around here?

There's not a whole lot of need for them in the city. Maybe out in the desert or on a ranch. Can't get anywhere without a car in Los Angeles.

[robbie's guessing to be honest. he's a city boy through and through. the closest he's ever been to a horse is seeing them penned up on the side of the road on the rare instances that he's left the city and gone far enough away from la that the haze clears and the stars actually shine at night.

it's pretty obvious that vasquez isn't from anything that resembles the modern age. the hint of uncertainty around his car, the way he pauses with his words. and the comment about horses... robbie shrugs his shoulders, uncertain.]

I haven't seen any, but I also haven't gone looking.

[At least there's still ranches, though the mention of Los Angeles is still a sore spot, given that Vasquez had been a child when that land had been taken away from them too after a bloody war, with his father representing their family in that one]

Are they as fast as trains? If they are, better than a horse, anyway.

[Noisier, though, not like you could go anywhere under the cover of secrecy, though Vasquez is starting to wonder if that's even needed here. He runs a hand over the top of it like he might pet the flank of a horse, staring down into it and squinting as he takes off his hat to peer at it, smelling deeply]

Lot nicer than any train I've seen.

Depends on the car and the train. Definitely faster than a horse, though.

[robbie quirks an eyebrow at that particular behavior. cringes internally as the lyrics to 'wanted dead or alive' come to mind. he swings around to unlock his door, sliding inside before leaning over to unlock the other side. the bench]

Probably means as much to me as a horse might to you.

Probably won't bite as much, either.

[Not that his ever did, really, because he didn't ride a demon horse like Faraday, but still, there had been days when she and he didn't see eye to eye and it was difficult to get along. He crouches down to peer inside and folds himself down into it, running his hands over it and trying to get used to it. Not sure he will, not really]

Does everyone have one? Or is it just for some people who can afford the very best?

No. No biting. Worst thing might be a hard stop. [doesn't stop him from laughing at the idea of a car with teeth. how ridiculous. robbie knows this must be a very unusual experience for someone who's used to horses and carts and probably hasn't seen this much pavement ever, so he's not itching to leave right off and is happy to let vasquez do as much examining of his surroundings as need be.]

Back home they do. It's kind of a requirement in most cities. They're too big to get from A to B without one and public transit is a nightmare. Some cars are expensive. Some are pretty cheap. And if you buy a used one, sometimes it's a better deal than a brand new one. Just depends. You thinking about it?

There's a lot of horsepower under the hood of something like this.

How big do the cities get in the future?

[He's not a scholar like Goodnight, but there's still a few things that are hard to ignore right now and if Vasquez had to make a guess, he'd say that somehow he wound up very much in the future where he doesn't understand how, but here he is, sitting in someone's car. That drink is still too far off, though, not yet. He gives Reyes a dubious look and a snort]

Horsepower? You replace horses with cars, but still talk about them in terms of how much power of the horses?

[how big do cities get? he has to wonder as he scratches at his temple. he doesn't actually know how big los angeles actually is, but he does know about how big the world is.]

Not sure? I mean there's like six billion people in the world. It's fair to say really big.

[robbie finally turns the ignition to the car, bringing all that power to life as he shrugs his shoulders in reply.]

Beats me why. I didn't choose the term. Figure it just made sense when they first started making them and it's stuck around since then.

Six b...

[How can there be that many people? How can that number even exist? He'd protest more, but he physically jumps in his seat when the motor turns over and startles him into grabbing at whatever he can]

Me cago en todo lo que se menea! What is that, what is it doing?

[it's hard to hide his amusement at seeing vasquez jerk at the sound of the engine turning over, hand reaching for a sturdy hand hold as he appears visibly shaken.] That is the sound of more than 300 horsepower.

Now that it's started, it's not doing anything other than idling. [robbie turns toward vasquez for a moment.] You gonna be alright when I move? Might want to buckle in if you're worried. [he points at the seatbelt and buckle just in case.]

That is unnecessary noise. It's like two trains colliding.

[Except not at all, not entirely, but Vasquez needs to cover for how spooked he'd just become. He searches around him and eyes the buckle for a moment before drawing it back and forth, as if to test it, giving it a little more pull each time. He glances down towards the actual buckle and then clicks it in, staring at it warily]

Don't have to do that with a horse. If you get thrown off, then you get thrown off and probably knock your head until you bleed. [He gestures for Reyes to move] Go, we can go.

Maybe two very tiny trains.

[he says with a shrug. robbie's used to the sound of the charger, finds it oddly comforting. he hurries through the motion of buckling himself in. safety first.]

Yeah the goal is to not knock your head into the glass on the off chance that something happens. [without any further ado, he puts the car into gear and speeds them toward the colonel's.] Don't worry. I'm a good driver.

[It's not that funny, but Vasquez still snorts a little, seeing as he needs a little bit of humour right now, what with his life going up in the air with no explanation and no reason about why any of this is happening. He stares at the belt and then does the same, wondering why it's such a fuss, but it's not his car, is it?]

I just survived a suicide mission. Don't kill me now that I made it out.

Suicide mission huh? Guess that means we both just barely escaped dying. Sounds like a damn good reason for a drink.

[it's not long before they arrive, and robbie kills the engine, pulling the keys and stuffing them in his pocket without any further word. he doesn't bother to check and see if vasquez is following, figuring the other man is more than ready to be free of the passenger seat.

the colonel's is thankfully quiet this time of day. a plus for vasquez who seems like the idea of a crowded bar is the last thing he wants do deal with right now. robbie grabs a seat a the bar, holds up his finger to grab the attention of the bartender and orders a beer.]

I escaped dying, but not everyone else was so lucky. I was going to ride away, head somewhere safe and quiet.

Instead, I'm in a very loud engine.

[ He says it with mild distaste, but it's not Reyes or the car's fault, not when he just wants to be somewhere that he has control. It's not like Rose Creek or any other small town would have been better, but at least it would have been his choice.

Glancing at where they end up, he heads inside after Reyes with more approval on his face, taking a seat and glancing around before taking off the hat. No one seems to be smoking, so he doesn't take out a cigarette, but he wants to, very much. ]

What kind of bar is this? No gambling, no fighting? Much more civilized than I know.

They've got a bar like that here. It's called CriminALES. I just don't like their lack of variety when it comes to beers or other booze.

[he's not that much of an elitist, but the cheap piss water and liquor that reminds him of kerosene rather than a smooth tequila aren't really his idea of a good time.]

But this is a good middle of the road. I don't feel like I'm out of place.

What kind of booze do they have?

[ He's really not picky, so long as it doesn't end up blinding him and given the lack of quality in some of the things he's drank over the years, it would take a very good deal of booze to be able to actually blind him. This is good, too, though. Better because he has someone who can help him navigate this strange new world. ]

I do. Out of place, that is. Does that ever stop? Do people start feeling like they belong?

Uh. A couple lagers and ales. Whiskey. I think they've got vodka and maybe rum?

[honestly, the number of times he'd visited criminales could be counted on one hand and the grime on the counter coupled with the lack of service had left him feeling more than a little annoyed and he'd left after a couple drinks each time swearing that he wouldn't be back unless absolutely necessary. if vasquez wants a change of venue so he'll feel a little more at home, he'll be happy to oblige but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.]

I feel a lot better than I did when I first got here. Helps that I've got someone from home to make it feel normal. [he pauses for a moment to thank their bartender for bringing his beer and to take a well-deserved sip] Of course, I'm not dealing with a case of severe culture shock.

Everyone in my life has had to learn to accept when things change. I hope you feel like you belong at some point. Otherwise... this whole being here thing is gonna suck.

Whiskey. Always good to start with whiskey, move on to rum when that starts to burn a little too much.

[ Truthfully, you could hand anything in a bottle to Vasquez and he'd end up drinking it. It's been a very stressful few days and right now, he could use the numbing sensation of not having to think or feel anything at all. He'll go see this CriminALES later, now that it's piqued his interest, but for now, he's going to appreciate someone making an effort]

I haven't belonged anywhere in years. I haven't had anyone to belong to or a place to belong in. I think I stopped remembering how.

[ As much as part of him doesn't know why he'd stayed in Rose Creek when Sam had given him a chance to leave, he thinks he knows. For a brief, tiny moment, he'd belonged in a group of people trying to do one good thing. That had been enough. ]

Thanks for the tip. I'll be sure to use it the next time I'm planning a night of heavy drinking.

[he's trying to envision an evening spent drinking enough that he'd feel like one liquor was burning down his throat and that he'd have to switch to another. robbie chuckles because he really can't fathom that ever happening. a few drinks, maybe, but not so much as to have to completely drown out his sorrows.]

You know, I thought that too about myself for awhile. Thought that I was caught between two very different worlds and didn't quite fit in either. But, I met some people not too long ago who changed that.
[robbie thinks of daisy first, but there's others too, ones he's met here who make him surprisingly happy and help foster a sense of belonging that he'd been anxious to feel for quite some time.]

Made me feel more like me than I had in a long time. Who knows. Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe you'll find that here.

Most nights of heavy drinking for me were because they were necessary, not for fun. Sometimes, you don't want to remember what your life is like.

[It's bliss for about three hours, then you wake up and your head is pounding and you hate everything. That's what Vasquez has to deal with, but maybe he doesn't need to be that drunk in a place like this, because if it's true and he's not wanted, then all he has to be miserable about is the fact that he's in this alone.]

How did you find it? Where do you even start? Or is it with loud engines and strangers like you in bars?

[Because if that's the case, then Vasquez is off to a great start.]

Damn if I don't know what that feels like. I wish drinking helped me.

[vasquez speaks about drinking out of necessity, out of a visceral need to forget about the mess that life brings. robbie knows that all too well, knows that the nights he preferred the most were ones where his voice, thoughts, and awareness faded into the backround, where the ghost rider took control of the wheel and he didn't have to fret about the fact that he was sending people off to their doom with a touch of his bare hands.

sad thing is, drinking never really helped him forget those nights where he wasn't consciously aware of the blood on his hands. in a way, he envies vasquez if the other man can manage to actually forget, if only for a little while, while.

it's part of the reason why robbie's so damn happy to be here. the other part being that he honestly didn't think he'd survive what happened in that giant quantum battery.]

My life changed the minute some punk of a girl with sad eyes came into my life and tried to kill me.
[there's a smile playing at his lips when he mentions daisy, because truly, meeting her was a turning point in his life. he stopped keeping secrets from his family. he met people who, he hoped, understood him and understood what he was going through a lot better than he could've hoped for.] She's my best friend now. If you want, I can introduce you two.

But I think, if you want to start feeling comfortable, if you're looking to find somewhere to — I'm sorry, but you'll have to pardon the phrase — [he has to chuckle at the phrase because he's literally never seen a cowboy until today] hang your hat, maybe we can just get things rolling with a few drinks. Who knows. Maybe we can find you a horse even.

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