Alone
Jesse is gone, has been for some time. No, that isn't to say he's dead or anything of the sort! Angela would never forgive herself if she was unable to prevent something such as that, no he was simply on a mission. Winston had assigned him and a few of the other more experienced members to handle something related to reconnaissance and looking into what might be a potential Talon operation. Nothing more nothing less.
With the keywords regarding it being "discreet" and "careful" it had meant abandoning the usual cowboy garb for something sleeker, more akin to his old garb when he'd followed Reyes' commands. Back in the Blackwatch days that is though he was a far different man now than he'd been then he still made it work much to her irritation when she'd found out he'd be leaving so soon; after all was a moment longer with her dear cowboy so much to ask?
He did of course keep his hat, he'd never go anywhere without that of all things. The spurs and chaps and flannel he'd dress in were set aside in the room ready for his return while he'd gone away, his serape however was her prize and her's alone. Draped around herself she'd settle in against the softness of the fabric even if it was rougher than the usual linens she'd have around herself.
It smelled like him, like Jesse, and right now that was enough for her even if it did little to sate the need for more. The dull ache and worry that accompanied not being able to properly watch over anyone when she wasn't on the mission roster. Made to wait and sit on her haunches for those here… Though she could never complain with that, it's simply the tenseness of the situation wracking over her nerves, they're all capable and able to handle themselves. Some of them, a particular man more than others, had been on their own some number of years since the disbandment.
They would get through this, she believed in them to do so… And yet here she was, finding solace in the worn crimson fabric of her absent cowboy. Drawn across her shoulders as she laid back, cheek pressed in against crimson and yellow patterns that ran across it. How long had she been doing this for? Losing herself in longing for another; had it been minutes or maybe hours? Tossing and turning among the sea of red that surrounded her. The messy ponytail that had been usually kept in place when she manned the medical bay had become undone and lay strewn over her features as eyes fluttered shut in content.
It was not the same but it would certainly suffice. She had thought as much, letting the moments tick by until once more disturbed. This disturbance came in the form of an opening door, a slight cascade of light from the Watchpoint halls, and the warm chuckle that emanated from the room's intruder. The room's owner. This disturbance was a welcome one though as calloused and rough digits palmed her cheek in a gentle caress, one she'd happily lean into.
Her cowboy had come home.
