forum place i belong // oxo // closed

Started June 13, 2023 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

(Kit would be more than happy if he wasn't looking respectfully)

The farm boy was ready to argue against Dane's words of being a deadweight. He had a pass for the time being considering the man had been shot and had nearly died in his barn, so even if he did know how to tend to a farm in any capacity he would have had a free ticket out of helping. That, and the fact that he was a guest in Kit's home. He really didn't want Dane to be helping out because he was supposed to be resting, visiting. Helping tending to a farm and doing manual labour wasn't exactly something that guests did. Clara would have had a fit if anyone had come to her home and offered to do chores or help around the home, just as Kit didn't expect Dane to help him with all the jobs that he had to do around the farm.

Those thoughts were distracted by the fact that his and Dane's faces were so close to each other's again. Kit could easily lean in and press a kiss to those enticing lips. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked, if they tasted like the whisky and alcohol that Dane seemed so fond of. Or would they taste sweet? Would he like kissing him back? Would he even want to kiss him back? Fuck, the thoughts very nearly had him blushing again. At this point, he would be constantly red and blushing whenever Dane was near if his thoughts always turned to kissing the man. But he couldn't help it. He was handsome and rugged and currently wearing his clothes and they looked better on him than they did on Kit. He was hopelessly fucked. Kit only prayed that the man kept to his word and didn't run off at the first opportunity he had.

Reluctantly, he placed Dane back on the floor, "I would never drop ya," He said, tilting his head up slightly to continue to make eye contact with the man, "You're way too light, by the way. You need some more food in ya system." And if he stuck around Clara would be more than happy to add some meat to his too skinny bones. But, Kit finally pulled out of Dane's space, holding back a sigh, as he made his way to the door, holding it open for Dane like a gentleman.

(alkdsfj omg "angel would you be interested in making out sloppy style in the barn" "ive been waiting fourteen hours for you to ask me that")

For the brief, wonderful moment Dane's being held up in Kit's arms, Dane's convinced this is exactly how he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life. Kit's so strong and could probably throw Dane's paper weight across the room if he wanted to. Not that Dane's a masochist or anything, but the idea doesn't seem too terrible. Dane's just mighty upset that he was unconscious and bleeding out the first time he was carried by Kit. 

Dane uses Kit as he carefully balances his weight on the floor yet again. He's almost sad to remove his arms from Kit's strong neck, but he isn't going to be danglin' off the angel unless Kit asks him to. Dane smiles his sheepish, lazy smile as he takes one small step away from the farm boy. "Trust me, angel, I know I'm far too light. If I could help it, I definitely would be much heavier, but don't that also make me slower?" His eyes gleam a little bit. From his limited knowledge of science, even he knows that lighter objects are harder to hit and harder to outrun. The slight margin where a majority of his abdominal muscle should be has been the target for plentya bullets. As unhealthy as it is to say it, his skinniness has saved him in a pinch quite a few times. "I'm sure if yer mama keeps feeding me, I'll grow used to food eventually." 

Dane's smile only grows as he steps through the opened door. "Thank ya' kindly," he tips his head, half tempted to draw his dark hat out of his knapsack just to tip it in the angel's direction. However, Dane does pause in the hallway, sparing a slightly suspicious glance at the closed door to his left. It's the only closed door in the entire hall, leaving Dane to only assume that it's Clara and Kit's father's room. For a moment, Dane wonders what type of man could've raised someone as good as Kit, but knowing Dane's experience with fathers, he isn't quite sure if he wants to know all that much. "Where to now, angel?" he asks in a whisper. They'll probably make it to the farm, to the fields, to the barn or whatever other shacks the property holds. 

(LITERALLY)

Kit's father, for some reason or another, was still on this earth even though the man never left the bed. He couldn't leave the bed. He was frail and weak. The man was sick. Really sick. But almost refused to die. For a man who never left the bed unless he was going for a piss, Kit almost wanted him to die to save him from the suffering he was enduring. He hated it. He hated seeing his old man so weak. Kit wished he could do more. Make more for the family so they could afford better medicine to try and fix him up, but they never did. It was why he was so reluctant to buy anything that they didn't need. Any spare penny went to his father or his siblings and their education. Not to him. Never to him. And he was okay with that. They needed it more. But it still wasn't enough.

No matter how hard he worked, how long he spent tending to the farm, selling produce, and trying his hardest to maintain everything so his father didn't have to worry when he eventually met God, it wasn't enough. There would always be the pressure to perform more. To work harder. Smarter. Care for the farm in different ways so that everything went smoothly. With no helping hand, it was more than just a challenge and Kit was starting to believe that he would never be up to the task.

Gently, he moved out his room, not closing the door completely behind him as if afraid the click of the lock would alert his father to the people standing by his door and was quick to usher Dane down the hall and out the way. They didn't need to speak of his father. Let him rest, "Think you're up for helpin' me collect some eggs?" He said once they were out of earshot of his parents room, and Kit moved to grab at his hat that was hanging by the front door.

(they're so stupid i cannot wait for them to finally kiss but it is far too soon right now alskdfals

)With a large smile, Dane follows Kit through the house and back to the back door, the real door pushed back and the mesh screen in place to keep bugs from flying in. The farm stretches out in beautiful rolling fields and pastures where the animals let out that morning happily graze amongst each other. For a brief, wild moment, Dane pretends he's just a simple cow mowing about in the tall grass, munching lazily and resting in the sun. Wouldn't that just be insane? Unfortunately for Dane he is a human with real human emotions and forced to live a terrible human life with only a recent highlight to give him hope for a future. 

He looks to said highlight, absolutely unable to hide his smile. "Am I ready to get some eggs, please angel, I can at least handle that much." He pauses. "Well, if the chickens won't attack me at least. I don't think I could survive against them talons." He grimaces and makes claw-shapes with his fingers. "They'd destroy my eyes, and I do think that's my best feature." Also, it would be a shame to go blind. He kind of needs his eyes to see. And shoot. And, well, see where he's trying to run off to. Plus, how else would he bask in the angel's beauty?

After watching Kit's strong arm pluck his hat from a hook, Dane gently turns the handle to the door and opens it wide, pausing on the porch to adjust to the light of the sun. It smells nice. A little like animal shit, but nice once Dane gets past that. He reaches into his own bag at his side, careful to not knock anything particularly damning from its pocket. His hat is black and wide rimmed, perfect for hiding the top part of his face and protecting his delicate skin from the harsh sun. With narrowed eyes, he studies the farm, unsure of exactly where to go to collect eggs, so he's happy to wait for Kit to lead. Wherever the angel goes, Dane's sure to follow. 

Kit couldn't help his snort, followed by a chuckle at Dane's comments and actions, and the farmboy couldn't help but bump him with his hip, "You're ridiculous," He said, stepping down off the steps of the worn wrap-around porch. It needed another coat of white paint on the railings and the support beams. He made a mental note to add it to his growing list of jobs and things to do maintenance-wise. God, he should really start keeping a proper list with all these things. Often he forgot half of them and needed to be reminded by his mother but, generally, she forgot, too. They were all busy with the other various and tedious jobs keeping the farm in order, "They ain't gonna attack you if you're not an ass to them."

He deliberately left out the bit about his one particular chicken that liked to chase newcomers around the field when they got in her space, but Kit figured that he would let Dane work that one out for himself. Besides, he needed some entertainment. It wasn't like she would do him any harm - she was all bark and no bite if given the right look. Kit had learned that the hard way. But she did produce the best eggs out of the lot. Big and juicy and earned the best coin at the markets. And Kit got along with his chickens well enough for him to not be worried. Either way, it would definitely be interesting to see what Dane would do if she decided to go off her rocker at the stranger.

Leading them across the rolling green fields of paddocks that surrounded the house Kit led them across to the barn where the chickens nested. It was small, surrounded by some barbed wire on one side to prevent any foxes from entering during the night and fucking up his girls - they couldn't afford any more if that happened - and had been made by Kit's dad years ago. Worn and weathered by the elements but now Kit kept it in good condition for it to be functioning. He hummed, sticking close to Dane as he led them to the coop with more of a spring in his step than he usually did. The chickens were ruffling their feathers in the space surrounding the coop, fluttering in the shallow pool of water and nibbling on the feed any specks of grain they could find.

Dane absently looks up at the support pillars, scratching off a chip of paint already only held on by a hair. It flutters to the ground, equally as worn, as the rest of the porch. Regardless of its paint job, Dane has to admit that it's one of the most homely places he's ever had the unlucky privilege of eating in. It has family photos and well-loved chairs and the smell of delightful food always wafting in the air. It also helps that the home is inhabited by angels. Maybe Dane could help paint the porch. That's at least one thing he'll be able to do. "Is there a paint store in town?" he asks as he plucks another paint chip from the wood. It doesn't even occur to him that it's destructive. When he looks for Kit, he finds that the man is already halfway towards the chicken coop.

With an undignified yelp, Dane quickly sprints to meet the angel's side. "So the chickens won't be attacking me?" He raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" Chickens have… dishonest eyes. And no brains. They're literally brainless creatures who only know screaming and violence and laying eggs. Dane may not have any experience with the creatures, but… but he's seen enough of them from a distance to know that no chicken is really worth going towards.

As Kit readily approaches the coop, Dane takes his time, trailing just behind the angel as he peers nervously over his shoulder. The birds within cluck loudly, squawking at each other and likely plotting Dane's murder. "And yer sure that they won't bite?" He nervously eyes the door to the coop.

"Yeah, but there's plen'y of paint in the shed," Kit said in response to Dane's first question. There was no need to go into town to get paint when there should be enough left over from the last time he repainted the porch to do one more coat and fix it up enough. He didn't care for the man picking flakes of it off when it was coming off to begin with, which made it all the more easier for when he did eventually repaint. It was a job he could do on a day when he was too tired to do much heavy lifting. Which, considering most of his job was heavy lifting half the time, it was a good way to unwind. Listen to some music and absently paint and forget about the rest of his responsibilities.

The farmboy tried his best to hide his cheeky growing smile when they neared the coop, "Don't look 'em dead in the eyes and don't scream Hail Mary and you'll be right, promise." He looked over his shoulder and sent Dane a wink, quickly turning back around to hide his grin. Once the coop was open and they were both inside, the chickens flocked to the men. Most of them were fine, simply weaving in between their feet and trying to trip them up as Kit wandered over to the pen and grabbed an old straw basket ready for the eggs. He crouched down and scratched a couple of the animals on the head, receiving some appreciative clucks from them before they wandered back to what they had been doing.

But the troublesome chook was eyeing Dane up like he was a full-course meal. If chickens could look evil, this one certainly did, with her narrowed eyes and careful feet wandering his way. The clicking from her, the tilting of her head, was the first sign that she might attempt to pounce. Once she had it out of her system and knew Dane wasn't a threat it would be fine, but for the most part, Kit had learned, you had to wait it out until she got over herself. And as she wandered slowly towards Dane, Kit couldn't suppress his giggles.

Dane takes one last look at the porch and homey house behind him. Maybe they can paint it soon. That'll be a nice excuse to spend a little more time with the angel. Well, that is if Kit's not entirely disgusted by Dane's questionable past. That's if Kit isn't repulsed by the blood on his hands and the deaths in his ledger. That's all if Kit doesn't push him away the moment he discovers that Dane is a bad man. That he's a man who has sent twenty-four people to their early graves, and all for what? To save himself? To prove a point? To get away? He has to physically pull his line of sight from the house and to the coop. Maybe a little fearing for his life will knock this poisonous thoughts from his brain.

While Kit's advice is at least a little helpful (and the wink was more than nice), Dane doubts that it would save him from the wrath of a scorned hen. Those creatures likely came straight from hell. They're the devil's creatures. He ducks his head to enter the coop and immediately registers the singular chicken staring right into his soul. She marches carefully, stepping over straw or crushing it beneath her claws, and Dane suddenly begins to fear for his life. "Angel–" he says, blindly reaching for Kit's sleeve. Much to his chagrin, he can't find it. "Angel, I believe there's a hen there that wants to kill me."

His head shoots up when he hears the musical sounds of Kit's laugh. His eyes shoot from Kit to the chicken and then back to Kit. "Oh my God–you knew this chicken would try to kill me–I cannot believe you, angel." His jaw drops in betrayal, his eyes wide and vulnerable–His eyes shoot down to the hen, his heart catching with his breath in the ball of his throat. "She's gonna pounce–" and almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, the chicken flutters and flaps and leaps and Dane is at least man enough to admit that he screamed. Trying not to step on any other hens, he scrambles from the coop, eyes blown and feathers covering his borrowed t-shirt as he collapses on the ground. Anyone woulda thought he had just returned from the trenches with the haunted stare in his eye.

Kit couldn't keep his giggles to himself. He couldn't keep them quiet at Dane's words, "Oops?" He snorted and didn't move from where he was crouched on the ground as he watched her march towards Dane and then pounce on the poor man. The minute that she did, the second that he screamed, Kit didn't stop the loud laugh that left his mouth as she fluttered and flapped and then Dane fell over, only sending him even further into a laughing fit as he watched. God, if every day was like this then he would be more than okay with that. He wished it would be, because already he was beginning to like spending time with Dane more and more if his reactions to the little things were like his every single time. It was almost too perfect.

"Stay still you big baby, it's just a chicken." Kit shook his head in disbelief at the man on the ground. He left his basket on the floor as he stood and walked over to the chicken that had attempted to attack, picking her up with ease and tucking her under his arm. The moment that she was there she settled down, looking immediately less scary and becoming far less loud now that she was in the arms of the farmboy. But, it also helped that she had the attack out of her system, and it was clear that Dane was more than frightened of her not mess with the hen. She ruled the coop, and everyone else was just her bitch in there. Even Kit.

Kit, with his free hand, held it out for Dane and offered the man a helping hand to get him up from the ground, "Now that we have that sorted, are you gonna come help with the eggs or are ya too scared of a 'lil chook?" If he had to hold her the whole time then he would if it meant getting Dane into the coop once again. All the other chickens were fine and the so-called 'evil' chicken would be fine now she had marked her territory and made Dane shit scared. It was the laugh that Kit had needed, and he hoped there would only be more to come if Dane stuck around.

After he finally knocks himself out of his daze, Dane begins to laugh. He ends up covering his reddened face with his hands as Kit approaches to remove the vile chicken from his presence. "Oh my God, angel," Dane practically wheezes. Had he seriously allowed a chicken of all things to take advantage of him? To jump him and frighten him and cause him to stumble right over his feet like he never has before. He can face a man with a nine-cylinder revolver, face-to-face, without even flinching. Well, maybe Dane seriously needs to reevaluate his fear priorities. He makes a note to himself: move chicken down on the terrifying list and at least bring dangerous men at least a little up.

Finally taking his hands from his face, Dane looks up at the hand offered to him. He takes it without question, allowing the larger man to pull him back up to his feet. The force is a little stronger than he had expected, Dane stumbling just a little forward into Kit's broad chest. Luckily his face is already too red from his encounter with the hen to really get any redder from the close contact. He pulls away carefully, taking the straw basket with a smile. "I think I'll be alright, angel. I think you've got her all calmed down there." He pokes the hen's plush back with his index finger, quickly pulling it back when her head whips around to glare at him. Nope. Chickens are still much scarier than any man with any weapon.

Dane takes a few careful steps into the coop, watching his step as the chickens flutter about at his feet. Save for the one still tucked into Kit's arm, they all seem relatively calm. They hardly pay Dane even a second glance. Either there was something entirely wrong with just that one hen or the other chickens are just too scared to go after what she's already claimed as prey. He peers into the nests, spotting the eggs lining the row. They're all fairly large, all of them some different shade of white and some even speckled with some different colors. "Do I just take any of 'em?" he asks Kit. "I don' wanna upset any of the other hens." Because he might certainly die at the taloned hands of the birds if he makes one wrong move.

Kit made sure the hen was tucked under his arm nice and safe so she wouldn't cause any more issues around the coop. He knew that now that she had launched and attempted her feeble attack on the man that had been shit scared of her, she was fine, but for the sake of Dane's sanity, he kept her tucked under his arm. Even more so of a good idea when she glared at the other man as she was poked. Best not to poke the bear. The hen might have been small but she certainly had the fury of one of those big creatures. Kit had been on the receiving end of it enough times to know what to do and how to handle her, but considering Dane was the one picking the eggs that morning, he was going to make sure she stayed as far away from him as possible to avoid another encounter.

"Take 'em all." Kit said, and he gave Dane the nod to go ahead and begin picking out the eggs in the coop, "None of the others will hurt ya, promise. This one is the only crazy go in the batch." And the farm boy needed as many eggs as possible to take to market. They were always the best sellers. Everyone needed more eggs and they couldn't seem to get enough of the ones that Kit sold. Maybe it was because the ones he took were always the fattest, juiciest eggs out of all the stalls there, and that was a good thing. Half the time his other goods didn't sell as well and so they had an influx of product. But with the eggs? There could never have been too many. Someone was always disappointed when he sold out and he always promised to bring more next time to avoid those kinds of issues. At least it was nice to be wanted in some way.

The farm boy gently petted the hen in his arms with his free hand, rocking her back and forth to keep her calm and from launching out of his arms to get back at the new man in her territory. All the other chickens were fine. They stood around, plucking their feathers and shedding everywhere, rolling in the small water bath on the far end of the space to cool off from the hot sun. Life would be far easier if he was a chicken, Kit decided, as he watched them roam.

(whaaaaa we've hit 100 posts already!!!!)

Dane shrugs, carefully reaching into the coops to scoop up all of the eggs. One was really warm and it was kind of weird, but Dane knows the more he thinks about it the weirder it'll be, so he quickly shuts down all thoughts in his brain and fills it with two simple things: eggs and angel. He fills the basket quietly, content to just simply move the eggs from one place to another. He gets into a repetitive system, somewhat relaxing if he does say so himself. In no time at all, all of the eggs have been harvested and moved to the basket. He holds it up with a smile. "What do I do with em now, angel?" He knows that Kit's family sells them at the market, but it's getting late in the morning. Maybe it's just an afternoon farmer's market instead of just an ordinary mornin' one?

Growing up, Dane's family never really had eggs. It was mostly oats and bran and simple things that never took long for his mother to make. It was also a lot of food taken from the saloon across the street. Dane's mother would hand him a few coins and tell him her order. She'd go change out of her nurse uniform and try not to wake her husband while Dane would get the two of them lots of tater tots and shoestring fries. Sometimes the barkeeper would be especially nice and throw in a few little tins of sauces for free. Those were always the best nights–sitting across from his mother at their rickety dinner table, trading fried pieces of potatoes and complimenting all of the sauces. Then they'd go to bed and Dane's mom would kiss his forehead goodnight and then Dane would go to sleep and hope he wouldn't wake up to yelling in the morning.

Shaking himself from the sweet memories, Dane hands Kit the basket and hopes his smile doesn't look too strained. He'll have to look at his mama's picture when he gets a minute of alone time. Hopefully he won't wrinkle the newspaper clipping with any more tears. "So now we got eggs and we've let the animals out–" Dane recounts quietly. "What do we do now?"

(Weee!!!! we're slayin)

Kit placed the chicken down when Dane walked his way and gladly accepted the basket of eggs from the man. The chicken stayed around their feet for a little while longer, eyeing up the strange man that she had attacked earlier before after a few moments, she finally walked away. Kit very nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she did, because for a hot second, he thought that she might attack again considering it had been Dane to collect the eggs and not him. But, at least he didn't have to worry about it anymore. That job was over and he could be more focused on Dane. On the rest of the day, on the other chores that would need doing.

"Gotta take 'em over to the produce barn." He said, wiping his hands on his pants from the dust and the dirt that had been on the chicken's feathers and then landed on his hands, "We should probably collect some fruit and such while we out that way too." Because the orchards, however small, produced succulent, juicy fruits that Kit was always devouring. There was also the matter of the vegetables, too. He had checked on them the other day but a few of the plants, like the potatoes and the carrots, hadn't quite been ready for picking. He prayed they were today, because that meant he could take them to the market in a day or so and sell them, too, and not just have to rely on the eggs and meats. It was always a good training and selling day when there were fresh fruits and vegetables to add to the mix. And Kit always threw a couple of deals in there for the lucky people who might spend a bit more, which was what he really needed.

Kit beckoned Dane out of the coop, basket in hand, as he led them away from the main portion of the farm. Further out the animals couldn't reach due to the fence lines, and that meant they wouldn't be able to chew and trample on any of his much-needed stock. The sun was steady in the sky by now, and Kit was more than happy that he had brought his hat with him because damn did he need that thing. He was sure to burn at this rate, but then again, he did most days. There was a reason his skin was honey-tanned with tinges of red everywhere. The life of a farmer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dane watches as the vile hen walks back to her hiding place, thankfully not labelling Dane as a threat any longer. He ducks his head as he exits the coop, the short doorframe catching his hat and almost knocking it off his red hair. Dane smiles, quickly falling into place at Kit's side. He swings his arms absently at his sides, thankful for the broad hat to keep the early noon heat off his delicate skin. He squints and takes another long look around the farmland, wondering what kind of various chores Kit has to do day in and day out. Dane wonders if it ever gets boring, or if the routine is comfortable. Dane doesn't have any sort of routine to base that inquiry off of. He's only known change and haste and constant travel. What would it possibly be like to never leave this comfortable little farm?

"Mmm, fruit," Dane mumbles. He loves a good fresh apple. He doesn't quite care for strawberries or tomatoes. Those are too juicy, too sweet. The apples are just right. Crisp, a little tangy, sometimes pretty sour, and they always taste good with just a little bit of peanut butter. He once met a guy who liked to put salt on his granny smiths. Dane never quite understood that, but the man had a pretty smile and Dane didn't care for much more than that. "What kind do ya' grow over here?" He uses his hand to shield his eyes from the sun that evades the brim of his hat and looks around. There are a few trees, a couple bushes, the orchard nicely partitioned away from the animals who could potentially want a snack.

Dane also can't help but wonder what the market could be like. He's never been in one with peaceful intentions–well, sometimes he goes to them with peaceful intentions, and then the sheriff and his goons always show up and ruin everything. Hopefully he'll be able to spend the one with Kit without any sort of gunfire or running. Of course, that all pends on if his paper face is stapled to every board on the saloon or not.

Kit led them over the fields and took in the surrounding expanse of his farm. The grass was brown in most parts but soft and green in others where he had remembered to water consistently throughout the summer. It didn't help there was a water shortage and he was trying not to consume half the town's supply to keep the farm running. A lot of the place was like that for the time being, trying not to use all the water that they had in order to survive. At least it was a shared goal. Hopefully, by the time the wet season came around soon, they wouldn't have to worry. And the sun wouldn't be so damned hot all the time. There would be at least a little relief from the blazing heat and scorching rays that beat down on them day in and day out for half the year. They needed the break, at least Kit did. And they needed more water. They always did.

The cows, sheep and horses were roaming the large paddock and milling on the hay and whatever bits of grass they could find that seemed delicious enough to eat, drinking from the troughs and lazily going about their day without a care in the world. Kit wished that he would have that life. It would be far easier to be a cow or a horse than a human. He wouldn't have to worry about any of the shit that he did, wouldn't have to be running around all the damn time and feeling like crap when he didn't get his jobs done. It would be a far easier life than the one he currently lived.

The orchard came into view, with rows of apple trees lining the far side of the farm and marking the edge of their land. Green, red, they were all there. Underneath were lines of strawberry bushes, and there were a few smaller lemon trees, as well as limes and mandarins and a of couple grape vines. Off to one side next to it was another old, worn-down barn that needed some maintenance, and that was there they kept all the fresh produce, "Oh ya know, the usual stuff. Apples and such."

"I do like me some apples," Dane says with a smile, reaching up to pluck a Granny Smith straight from the branch. He spins it around in his hand to ensure that there are no wormholes or aphids on the leaf before taking a large bite right out of its bright green skin. It juices down his cheeks, slightly uncomfortable, and stings a little at his sensitive front teeth, but the taste is unlike any apple he's had before. He swallows his bite. "Angel, have you had these apples?" He asks, unthinkingly handing Kit his already bitten apple. "Best damn apple I've ever had–" And that's probably the truth. After all, he can't quite think of any apple that's had enough significance as this one. Not ones snatched from a racing steed. Not salted ones taken from a feeding hand.

Dane falls into stride beside Kit, looking wide-eyed around at all of the trees, their canopy at least providing some solace from the beating sun. The barn up ahead looks both torn down and perfectly fine–a real fixer-upper, but one that would only be properly fixed with the right amount of love. Inside are crates and crates of produce stacked neatly beside each other. Each fruit or vegetable is like a gem in its own, the bright color contrasting pleasantly from the natural dust of the floor. To hell with all the diamonds and goals in all them mines, this is the riches Dane wants. He wants… he wants to be able to sow the seeds and reap the profits. To be able to stick around long enough to watch them grow into something worth the prettiest penny at the market. His eyes shift to Kit, wondering absently if he's ever taken such a precious process for granted.

"An' you said you take em out to town tomorrow?" He momentarily removes his hat to brush the sticky hair from his forehead. "Maybe after we sell all these at the market we can go out for them taters." His smile only grows as he nudges Kit's side with his own. It's awfully quiet out there, perhaps the furthest distance from the house out of any part of the farm. Dane's eyes involuntarily roam up and down Kit's form, wondering if they could get some alone time all the way out here. He tears his gaze away to the hayloft, only to wonder if that could hold two wrestlin bodies without giving way. God. God Dane hopes that there's still enough sun out to blame the reddening of his face on.

The outer barn was a place that Kit loved. It was secluded, quiet, and in his mind, it was the perfect spot for thinking. Away from the rest of the farm, away from the animals, the chores and the work, he could be at peace from it all, if only for an hour or two, not even that, on the days he was extremely busy. The lines of trees provided shade from the blazing summer sun, and on those days where he needed to just get away, they were the perfect spot to do so. He could sit under the shade of the bright green, listen to the distant bird song, the sound of the animals in the next paddock over, and feel that for at least five minutes, his busy mind was at peace. This was his space, his happy space, and now he was sharing it with Dane. He didn't know if the cowboy would be staying long enough for them to come back, but God did he hope so. He wanted to show him all his favourite spots, where he sat, the hammock he had strung up on the other side of the barn where the sun filtered through the green and cast him in gold for an afternoon.

Kit always imagined bringing someone here. A girl, a boy, it didn't matter. The space was special to him, amongst the rows of crates and barrels of fruit and vegetables he would sell in the coming days, and a special place should be shared with a special person. Even though he and Dane had just met, he couldn't help the feeling of wanting to share the space with him. Maybe it was because Kit was aware they were on a limited time frame. Dane would leave soon, he knew it, that when they were finished in town, when he was good to ride again he would up and leave at the first chance he got. The man gave that impression, and Kit couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his chest at the thought of him going so soon. Yeah, it was definitely the reason he was okay with bringing him here so soon.

The farmboy couldn't help the soft giggle as he was handed the apple, and took a bite on the other side before chucking it back to the other man, "Why thank you kindly, sir," He gave Dane a tip of his hat in thanks a moment later, "I work damn hard on these apples." Too hard, all things considered.

Kit placed the basket of eggs in one corner before he moved to grab an empty carton to place them in, "Yeah, we'll take some of the stuff tomorrow morn', eggs, few crates of apples and carrots and the like. We can go for them wedges after." He looked over his shoulder to Dane and shot him a wink once more before he turned back to the task at hand, gently placing each egg in its own little compartment in the carton.

(it's just kind of hitting me that i have no idea what year this takes place so i guess maybe uhh pre-wwi??? like 1910s ish if that's alright with you alskjdf)

Dane catches the apple thrown back at him with one smooth motion, taking a bite right out of the apple Kit had chewn off. (He hadn't really intended to do that, but the opportunity was there and he couldn't quite resist, could he?) "Well, I'm mighty thankful that you work so hard. Someone has to put in all the elbow grease for all these fine crops." He finishes the rest of the apple, finding a nice compost bin to toss the core into. He whistles long and low as he takes a short spin to look around the rustic barn. "This is all pretty nice," he compliments quietly. "Do you come out here a lot?" It's quiet. It's a perfect escape for anyone wanting time far away from the usual bustle of the farm.

He kicks the toe of his boot, catching on a small rock and sending it to the other side of the barn. Dane turns back around absently, wondering how the angel possibly manages to transport so many goods to the town over. Not even Kit's town. The one next to that. How long would the journey be? It can't really be more than a couple hours, right? Does he take a horse, a wagon, maybe one of them new automobiles that the rich have been buyin' up? Well, Dane hasn't seen any garage for any automobile. He also doubts that Kit would spend any penny towards something as frivolous as an automobile. Not when there's a whole farm. Not when he clearly has other expenses he'd spend all that pocket change on.

The light filters through the shifty slats of the old barn ceiling, bathing the angel in some gorgeous light that Dane's blundering mind can only describe as god-given. Dane's breath stutters. He isn't sure if he'll be able to keep his promise. His stupid, blabbering mouth might as well expose his secret right here and now.

(lmao sounds good to me)

Clara had spoken to her son about investing in an automobile. The town was small but not small enough that they didn't get word of the recent inventions and ideas that were popping up all over the country. There had been a few salesmen come through the place advertising the wonderous new inventions, how they would help with the farmlands for transporting crops, cattle and the like and it had sounded like a good idea to her. And quite frankly, it had sounded like a good idea to Kit, too, but they couldn't afford it. Clara had tried to argue that they did, that they had some savings they could use in order to invest in one, and it would have helped the farm and Kit immensely, but Kit had refused. The money needed to go towards his father's medication. It needed to go towards food, for utilities, for taking care of the farm. They couldn't afford to spend that money on something that might break within a month of buying it. They just couldn't.

Instead, Kit was fine with his horse and cart. The wagon was sturdy, had served him well, served his father well, and that was the main thing. Why replace something that wasn't broken and was reliable? It didn't make any sense. And he was perfectly fine with the old thing. He could use it, he could navigate with it fine, there was nothing wrong with that. Call him old fashioned, Kit was more than happy with the thing compared to a fancy pants automobile. Even if it did mean it took longer to get to the markets than it would with an electric vehicle.

Kit finished off the eggs, staking the cartons on top of each other in an empty crate before he moved it to one side ready to be placed in the wagon tomorrow morning. The wagon itself was round the back of the barn and only needed to be pulled forward in order to pack it, so it wouldn't take long. He dusted his hands off on his pants as he looked back to his companion, "Yes Sir," He replied with a soft sigh, "It's ma favourite place. Wouldn't wanna be anywhere else. Jus' wish I could stay out 'ere all the time with someone…"

Dane raises an eyebrow playfully. "Well angel, I'm that someone and I am right here–" He checks his shoulder gently against Kit's, noting with a small thrill how solid the muscle beneath the shirt is. His heart thunders ever so slightly at the thought of spending a little more alone time in here with the angel–far enough away from the house that none of Kit's parents would have to hear them. He doubts the animals would mind that much, right? They probably don't know about certain human activities–Goddamnit, Dane needs to get his head in a confession booth as soon as possible. God. This farmboy is certainly doing something to him and Dane might explode.

"Have you been on this farm all yer life?" Dane asks, changing the topic with a clearing of his throat. He needs to get his mind out of the gutter immediately. He at least has some dignity and if he wants to preserve any of it, he needs to get his mind off of the farmboy's strong body. (That's quickly proving to be much more difficult than Dane was expecting.) "The only place I've stayed longer than a few months in was my hometown. It should be across some territory lines or something." It's been too long for Dane to really remember exactly where it is. He doesn't know how to go back, which should be a much scarier thought than it is. Then again, why would he ever want to go back? All that'll wait for him would be a drunken father (if his liver hasn't given out by now) and a town that hates his name. There'll be two graves that Dane has only visited once. There'll be a saloon with potato fries and sauce. There'll be a few buildings, still haunted by the ghost of Dane's memories.

Dane shrugs. "It's been… It's been about seven years since I've been back home, but somethin' tells me I won't really be allowed back." His smile may be playful, but his words only hold the truth. Honestly, if Kit asks enough questions right now, he'll be spillin' his whole life secret. To hell with waiting for town. The moment is right now and Dane at least promised himself he'd wait until his secret's free before allowing himself to kiss the farmboy.

Kit couldn't stop the way his face lit up as red as the tomatoes that he grew at Dane's statement. Or the way his heart thundered faster than a stamped of horses across the plains that bordered his little farm. How a man was able to come in and completely turn his brain into mush within less than a day of meeting him, the farmboy didn't know. That was beyond his cognitive capabilities. He didn't possess the skill in order to recode his own feelings. The only feelings he was good at decoding were that of the animals that he tended to. Sheep and pigs and chickens, especially, were easy to understand. They acted a certain way, made certain sounds when they wanted certain things and it was clear as day. Nothing was as easy as understanding what an animal wanted when you had been raised around them your whole life.

But people? People were an entirely different story. They said things they didn't mean, acted differently in order to gain attention from someone and didn't care if they hurt others in the process. People only cared about themselves and how to use others to get ahead in life. People lie and cheat and never expressed exactly what they wanted and needed and it left people him Kit, who wasn't good with that shit, more confused than anything else. He didn't know what to do about it. He just hoped that Dane would be honest with him. That was all he wanted, honesty and truth and as long as he got that then they wouldn't have any issues.

"Born and raised on this farm," Kit said and he continued further into the barn to a ladder that led to the hayloft above the main section of the place. Before climbing he rolled the sleeves of his flannel out the way, the fabric tight against his muscles, before he began to climb. He got halfway before he looked down at Dane and tilted his head to the side, "And why's that?" He asked. Why wouldn't he be allowed to go back to the place he was born? unless he had done something horrible and in that case… Kit didn't know how to feel, mainly because he didn't know what it was that the other had done, "Sounds like you've got sum confessin' to do," He motioned to the ladder, indicating that he wanted Dane to follow him.

Dane whistles quietly, trying not to look directly at the ass above him, climbing up and up that big ladder to the hayloft. Well, Dane probably doesn't even have to mention what Kit's strong muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt do do him. This man is going to be the absolute death of him, and well, Dane hardly minds the thought of that. Though Dane only knows Kit to be kind and gentle, he has no clue how he'd possibly react to the information about Dane's past–about how many lives he's taken and how much property he's stolen. It's not a pretty number. Higher than most would think and much higher than Dane would ever like to admit, but… Dane's gotten this far. He's far too deep to go back. The only way out is to run and pray that one day he'll never be found again. There's no chance of a trial, not when Dane already knows he's guilty and deserves to be sentenced to the gallows.

He blinks when he's so kindly invited to follow Kit up the ladder and into the hayloft. He smiles, a close lipped thing, and waits for Kit to get a little higher before beginning the climb himself. It's not… hard, it's just, Dane's going at a much slower pace granted he has stitches in his sides and a distracted mind. He's looking right up at Kit's ass and thinking terrible, terrible things. He's going to have to whack himself over the head with a club if he keeps going on like this. Sure Kit might've seemed interested earlier, when they were all cuddled together on the mattress in his room, but Dane could easily be reading far too much into Kit's hospitality. He could be friendly. He could be naturally touchy feely. But he's also into men, a delightful secret that Dane loves to harbor in the back of his mind.

When he finally arrives to the top, Dane lets out a sigh of relief and sets his hat down to his side, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. "Well, you see angel, I do have my fair share of confessin' to do, but ya' gotta promise me that you won't go blabbing my secrets to everyone the second I tell ya', alright?" He levels Kit with as serious of a glare as he can manage. He's about to hang the balance of their relationship with a few secrets. He could kill them before they even begin to form something. "Angel, I'm–" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "Angel, I'm not a good man." Is all he offers before looking over to him. "Angel, I've killed twenty-four men and stolen over thirty-thousand dollars from counties across the west." The words sting like acid as Dane speaks them. He hates how they fall of his tongue and into the air.

The hayloft was another part of his old, run-down barn at the back of the farm that was one of Kit's more private, personal places. It was far, far away from anything else on the farm, from his parents, from responsibility, and physically off the ground making it seem like it was further away than it was. Realistically, he knew that it wasn't that far, and the fact that it wasn't on ground level wasn't exactly meaning it was as if he were in the heavens and way beyond reach of reality, but in his mind, he could believe that it was. Kit could pretend that, while he was up there and away from the floor, he was somewhere else entirely. It had been his favourite place as a child. One where he had visited with his father when he had still been able, where after hours or tending to the fields and the animals they had come to rest together in that old hammock or up in the piles of hay. His mother had had to come yelling for them more times than he could count in order to fetch her eldest and her husband. For a while, it had been the most magical of places. Now it was only an escape, a place that he visited when he needed to get away, when he had just five minutes of free time.

It was barely anything considering he was the only person on the farm doing all the hard work. With his father bedridden and ill there wasn't much he could do. They had no money to spare for another farm hand and so it was all down to him. The eldest. The one destined to take over the farm while his siblings went on to achieve bigger and better things in life. Envy was the only word he could use to describe how he felt when he thought of his siblings and the opportunities they had that he didn't, but at the same time, they deserved it. They deserved better. And he was glad they were reaching higher than the stars and Kit was happy to watch them soar. But right then and there he was once more sharing this space with Dane as he settled into the piles of straw, lounging on a particularly large pile with his hands over his chest, "I ain't gonna tell a soul."

He wouldn't. Maybe Mols and Dandy, but they couldn't exactly go blabbing to the neighbours. When Dane spoke, each word had his heart thundering faster and faster. Dane had.. had killed people. Dead at his hands. Stolen. Would he do that to him? Point his gun, steal what little money his family had and run even after Kit had helped him? The farmboy lets the silence sit over the two of them before he speaks once again, "Why?" He asks softly, though no more than that.

The man–the criminal–takes a long breath, looking straight at his boots hanging over the edge of the hayloft instead of daring to meet Kit's disappointed eyes. "Most were in self defense," Dane answers quietly. "Or in duels…. Seven were won duels that I should've never been charged for. Twelve of them were sheriffs or men in way over their heads. They wanted my neck in the noose and I–I couldn't just let them nab me. Not when I haven't really had a chance to live yet." Dane's voice is quiet, frighteningly steady as he tries not to let it shake. "The first one was an accident. I didn't mean to but he was mean and he was grabbin' my arm so I just grabbed his pistol and shot 'im once through the heart–" His breaths come quick and short before he stops himself, shutting his eyes tight and hoping he can compose himself. "It was an accident. It was an accident but nobody else seemed to think so." His hands go up to wipe at his eyes. "I was sixteen and without a home and my mom and sister were dead and my father didn't care enough about anything but his whiskey. I had to run. And I kept running. And I kept shootin'–" And that's when his voice finally cracks. He killed nineteen on purpose. The death that started it all had been an accident. The last four are ones Dane doesn't wanna think about. They hurt his heart the most.

"I never took much from anybody. Not anybody who was suffering–" Dane pushes on to explain. "It was mostly them fat cats and mayors and sheriffs–I took what I wanted and gave it away in the next town over… I never… I never kept much." Only books, but even sometimes he would have to use them for kindling. Sometimes he would take a handful of coin to use in the next settlement.

Mortified, Dane buries his head in his hands. He wouldn't be mad if Kit pushed him right off the hayloft. Hell, if he were in the farmboy's shoes, he woulda done the same. "Shoulda let me die when you had the chance, angel," Dane all but whispers, praying his delicate voice doesn't break again. "Woulda been a lot better for all of us."

Kit listened as Dane talked about his past, the reason for the people that he killed, and who he stole from. The farmboy chewed on his lower lip, taking in the information as he was given it and mulling it over as he tried to form a reply at the end of it all. From what he knew of the man before him, the man who had appeared on his land and practically fallen off a horse that was now, clearly, not his own, covered in blood, a killer had not been high on the list of adjectives he would have used to describe him. Dane was a flatterer. Kind, gentle, used humour to deflect his more serious thoughts and Kit could tell all that from just a few hours with the man. What he was being told, how he had killed and stolen, did not fit with the picture. Yet at the same time, everyone had done bad things. His father had certainly done awful things, he knew that much. Did he really have room to judge? And Dane had only been sixteen. Young, hadn't even experienced the world before he had taken the life of someone else.

Someone so young should not have had to experience death at that age. Dane had even said that his mother and sister had died before then. Kit's heart only sunk further into his chest as he thought it over more, about how horrible the situation was, about how all of it was. Was that why Dane didn't want to stay long? Was he worried that the law was going to catch up with him and he would be arrested for his crimes? That could be the only explanation for why he wanted to dash off so quickly. But Kit had never seen his face in town before on any of the wanted posters, not in the next town over or his own. Maybe… no, it was a foolish thought. He couldn't ask him to stay here, with him… no, he couldn't. The thought was enticing and he wanted so badly to say it but for now all he could do was push it away.

Instead, the farmboy scooted forward from his pile of hay until he was seated next to Dane, legs hanging off the edge of the hayloft, "I'm glad that I didn't let you die," He said quietly, "And… and I'm sorry, for all that you've gone through. It's not fair that you have to bear all of that."

(asdlkfja sorry this took so long! i have been dealing with a ton this past week–)

Dane laughs, a humorless, broken sound that escapes him. "Angel, you aren't gonna be so proud of lettin' me live when everythin' catches up to me. As soon as word hits this little town that I'm here, they'll be at yer doorstep with torches and nooses and breakin' down yer porch lookin' for me." He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, hoping that the pressure will at least alleviate the growing sting. "They all want me dead. I just–" He should just give up. Make it easier on everyone. He should hold his hands out and accept his fate but… but he just can't. Not yet at least. "I just wish I had time to actually live before they all wanted me dead."

But when has the universe ever been too kind to Dane. He was a murderer at sixteen, a boy with a seemingly bright future ahead of him after so much tragedy. He was supposed to move on with his head held high. His old preacher said that maybe one day he'd be one of 'em bankers or even a surgeon. He had so much potential. So much potential that was ruined with a gunshot. It wasn't like it was his fault either. He was walking home after forcing himself to attend some town hearing. He had wanted to know what was going to happen with the brand new railroad going in. After the meeting, he was walking home and a man he didn't know snagged his arm. He said a few disturbing things, his breath reeking of alcohol, and Dane had panicked. He hadn't meant to kill. It was hard to explain himself as the man dropped dead and Dane was holding the murder weapon.

He stole a horse and ran. He ran like the coward he is. "The first one was an accident," Dane murmurs, his voice tight. He can't bare to look up and meet Kit's beautiful eyes. "The first one was an accident. The rest were on purpose, angel." He lifts his head, staring at the cracked wood of the barn wall. "I've killed nineteen people on purpose." It wasn't like he had a choice. (You always have a choice, part of him growls. You coulda let them shoot you. You coulda let them arrest you.)

(no rush bestie! i've had a busy weekend anyways lol)

Kit wanted to ask what the story was behind at least the first shooting, but Dane seemed distressed enough just thinking about it that he didn't want to make things worse. That wasn't what he was looking to do, no. He wanted the other to feel safe with him, like he could rest for just a day, even more so now that he had learned somewhat of his past. Dane deserved that much, at least one proper night, in a proper bed, with a hot meal for dinner with as much food as the man could stomach before he would have to go running off to the next town to run away from his demons.

But they hadn't found him. They hadn't found him yet, the people that were looking for him. Kit knew for a fact that his face wasn't plastered up around his little town or the next one over because he would have recognised Dane from the posters. The farmboy liked to think that his memory was good enough to remember a fact like that. It also happened that he was only mildly paranoid and was worried that one of the men on those wanted posters would show up at his doorstep for some reason or another - force their way in looking for food and booze and a night's rest before disappearing with one of his beloved horses. But that hadn't happened yet, and Dane certainly wasn't one of the men that he had seen on those fluttering old pieces of paper nailed to the wooden posts. He wanted to believe, wanted to say to the other man, that he didn't have anything to worry about, that the chances of him getting caught were slim. Even more so considering he had ended up on the farm that everyone in his town avoided like the plague. There was no way they would come looking for him here, no one would even bat an eye in his direction. Yet he knew that Dane would just laugh him off, so was there even a point in trying?

Slowly, Kit moved, giving time for Dane to bat his hands away of he so wished or scramble away and tell him to piss off. The farm boy with one hand grabbed one of Dane's, slipping them together loosely with enough room for the other to pull away, and the other, with his thumb and forefinger, took Dane's chin and turned his head towards him. Green eyes didn't waver, and if anything they shone with determination and stubbornness, "Stay here, with me, for a few days. Give yourself a chance to recover and… and maybe live a little… just until life catches up with you."

His legs dangle over the edge of the hayloft, Dane absently wondering how much the fall would hurt if he tipped off balance. It's not high enough to kill him, but it would at least break a bone or two. Dane's no stranger to pain. Hell, the stitches curving along his ribs are aching with every breath, but Dane knows the difference between pain that's constructive and pain that's destructive. The wound in his side is at least meaningful. Don't get shot, it orders with every breath. If he were to fall onto the dusty floor, it would just remind him that he's going to be dead meat eventually. Dane presses that thought from his mind. He won't be able to run on a broken leg. He won't be able to shoot with his eyes clouded in pain.

Dane stares at their hands, baffled that Kit would even allow his skin to press against the palm of a killer. Dane's mind begs him to pull away, but he's always been a weak man. Before he can even control himself, Dane's withholding heavy sobs. The hand not curled against Kit's goes to his face–pulling at his skin and hair, pressing into the hollows of his eyes. "Why do you even bother–" he chokes. He can't even look at the angel. His goodness might just kill him. "You're doing this wrong, Kit. I shouldn't be here, I don't deserve your kindness, I don't–" His voice cuts with a crack. Kit's moving his chin. Dane's forced to stare right into his pretty green eyes. "Angel, I should leave–"

Wait until life catches up to him– Dane can't do that. God, if he lets life catch up to him, he'll be dead. He'll be dead and this beautiful farm will be burned and Kit and his lovely mother will suffer all because they harbored a cruel criminal like him. "I can't stay here. I can't do that to you, angel." His cheeks are wet from tears, eyes red around his blue irises. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you. To your farm, your home, your mama–" He chokes on his breath. "I've already overstayed my welcome." And he has. What had Dane ever been thinking? In all of his days, he's never been so selfish. He's stolen and cheated and lied and swindled–but none of it has felt nearly as dirty as this moment feels. Kit feels.. he feels safe. But he can't be safe enough to guard Dane from his own actions. The past will catch up to him eventually, and he refuses to let Kit be caught in the middle of it all.

"I don't even understand why you want me to stay–" His chest shudders with the confession. "I'm–I'm a liar, thief, a killer. You should be pushin' me away, not–not–" Dane squeezes their hands. "Not pullin' me closer."

As much as it had been a shock for Kit to hear that Dane had killed people, so many at that, there were people out there who had done far worse. There were men in his own town then he knew that had killed more, there were men that travelled through the land that had done worse and had far more blood on their hands than the man sitting next to him. The difference between them and Dane, however, was the fact that they didn't care. They didn't care if they killed, who they killed. They didn't care if they stole from the poor for their own gain as long as it benefited them. But the man sitting next to him had clear remorse over the lives that he had taken. God, he was distraught over it. Dane was sobbing and no man that didn't have a heart would cry over the lives they had taken.

"You've done bad things, I ain't gonna sugar coat that," The young man continued, but he was moving moments later until both of his hands were resting on Dane's cheeks. His thumbs, calloused from the hard work that he did on the farm, dirty even from that mornings work, began to wipe away the salty tears that were falling down the cowboys cheeks, "But you clearly 'ave a 'eart on ya, otherwise you wouldn't be cryin', you wouldn't be upset over what ya've done. Don't that show you're not all bad? Please, just stay for a 'lil while longer. For me, Dane, I wanna hear your story."

And there wasn't a hint of a lie in his voice. His green eyes were soft, almost desperate, for Dane to stay there with him. He was the first man that he had met for such a long time that hadn't tried to hurt him in some way. That had seen him differently than just the son of an awful man. Dane might have done some horrible things, but so had his father, so had many, but Kit knew that there was more to people than simply someone's past. And Dane was an example of someone who had gone through horrible things because of his past, and if he wanted to change then maybe he could. Maybe he could find a way for him to stay there, with him, and start fresh.

It was a stupid, selfish thought, but Kit couldn't help but want it. He wanted to get to know the man sitting next to him. There were so many questions plaguing his mind about the world, about his past, but he wasn't going to ask now, it wasn't the time. The farm boy was curious and more than a little attracted to the man and it was certainly adding to the want for him to stay with him.

Mentally, Dane's kicking himself just thinking of how vulnerable he's letting himself be. The last time he opened up like this resulted in his twentieth kill. The man had a nice smile, a soothing voice, hands so smooth they could almost be made entirely of fresh skin. He had asked Dane to join him for a drink. The liquor continued to flow as Dane continued to bear his heart. The man had grabbed his shoulder with his soft hands and led him back to a room. Dane had been… excited, nearly, to be spending a night with a man he could trust. Those soft hands had written the sheriff in the middle of the night. They came for Dane when he was half-naked in an expensive bed and he couldn't help but stare at the beautiful man who stood in the doorway, absently playing with the chain of a necklace. The law had tried to snag Dane, but he had always had quite a knack for being slippery. He hadn't ment for his bullet to hit home in the man's chest. He meant for the officer. He meant for the sherrif. He meant to deal a killing blow to someone else. Dane had tried apologizing, holding the man's hand, but they grew cold in Dane's grasp. Afterwards, he ran. He left town, the territory–if he could, he would've left the entire country. He's heard Spain's always nice. Canada's much closer.

Not for a moment had Dane ever blamed the man for snitching. Not once did Dane ever hate him for doing so. He was… he was a law-abiding citizen with large brown eyes and a strong jaw. He had talked of his life plans with such a sure gusto that Dane couldn't help but believe him. He had always dreamed of leaving his father's humble shadow to pursue something bigger, larger than anyone in that small town had ever dreamed. Dane supposes the man… didn't want Dane in his life. No aspiring king would ever have a criminal in their cabinet. Dane doesn't dare blame the man. Dane knows all about ambition and having to take the necessary means to achieve.

The thumbs slowly caressing his cheeks seem to jolt Dane back to this horrid reality. They're rough. They're grounding. "Wanna hear my story?" Dane manages through heavy breaths and a humorless smile. "What else could I possibly tell ya'?" His hands shake as he tries to reach for Kit's hands. To hold them or remove them, he isn't sure, but he can't even grasp them. "I'm gonna get you killed eventually." By his hand or another's. "You'll just be in more danger now that you know my name and face." Because the law only knows him as Tiger or Snipe or even sometimes both. They don't know Dane Casper Elliot and his smile and good intentions and dream to one day settle down. They just know the man who's only fired twenty-five shots and killed twenty-four with them. They know the thief, the blackmailer, the no-good cheat that leaves a trail of bloody bodies in his wake.