Jesus fucking Christ. The ghoul dragged both hands down the sides of his face, rolling over to his sleeping partner. They were both still naked from the night's wonderful endeavors, and she was burrowed into his side to escape the chill that hung in the air. Her hair was like a sheet of silk that flowed around them; he propped himself up on one elbow to marvel at her.
He was fucked.
Absolutely, fucked.
In all of his life, he had never been just a one-woman man. He was a drifting soul; a wanderer. The road was his home and a warm bed was a familiar friend. But, damn. If this was the warm bed he could come home to every night, he would never leave.
Until she finds out you're not really taking her to Braxton.
Ugh. Ah, yes. His small dilemma. Or, it was a small dilemma, back when he lied to her. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, per se, but she would be extremely disappointed, and probably mad when she found out his ulterior motive. And now…
He laid back down and stared at the ceiling, his intrusive thoughts ruining his good mood.
It was so unexpected, all of this. The two of them were like a struck match, becoming searingly hot in just a few seconds, only to perhaps burn out in the same amount of time. He secretly hoped that wouldn't be the case; it would be entirely too painful knowing she was somewhere out in this world, walking the same earth but not breathing the same air. He had a drop of the ocean cupped in his palms, and he had to be careful to not let it slip through the cracks of his fingers and soak into the desert below.
What the hell does Darcy mean to her? What does she want? As much as he wanted to voice his curiosities, he also wished to remain in her good faith. That dead woman meant something to her, so much that she was risking everything for…well, he didn't know what for.
No. He had to know, and he would. He closed his eyes and revisited the previous hours of the night, exhaling loudly at the thought of it potentially being the last time so soon. His mouth craved a cigarette, and as he worked on gently removing her from his person, she grabbed at his hand, intertwining their fingers together.
"What time is it?" Her voice was heavy with sleep. "Don't go." That small thumb rubbed circles into his leathery palm.
"It's dawn; sun will be kickin' in here soon." He continued to sit upright, and he felt her give away. "Need to piss and have a quick smoke."
She muttered something sleepily, rolling away from him and drifting back to her dreams.
He groped for his reinforced pants, shoving them on and then reaching for his socks and boots. With his jacket in one hand, he strode to the door and came to a halt as he went to reach for the handle. Slowly bending down, his fingers grasped at the smashed doorknob and he rotated it in his hand, inspecting the damage. It was comparable to a shriveled prune.
Jesus. A pair of hazel eyes darted back to her sleeping form; so peaceful and seemingly innocent under the tangle of blankets. Damn monster.
His eyes flew up to the ceiling in decision, and he relented with a shrug and lifted his boot. The door flew open dramatically, crashing against the side with a loud bang. Evelyn flew upright, her hair wild and eyes darting around for signs of immediate danger. He tossed the doorknob by her feet. "Tried fixin' it; didn't work." He replied dryly.
An enormous presence entered the doorway, and Cross instinctively took a step back.
"What is it?" Charon rasped, his eyes darting from the ghoul to his employer.
Evelyn gave a squeak; the blanket came over her naked chest immediately and she looked away, completely flustered. She did not meet his eyes.
Charon paused, utterly silent.
Cross's hands twitched; his fingers itching to grasp the cool casing of his gun. Both men stared at each other with a downright passive look, neither speaking a word nor making a move.
A clunk drew their attention to the floor between them. The crushed doorknob rolled around a bit; the sound of metal gliding along the wooden boards.
"Can you both fucking leave?" Evelyn snapped, her face bright red. "I'm trying to sleep."
The larger ghoul instantly gave a hard pivot; he was gone as soon as he had appeared. Cross grumbled something irately under his breath, thrusting his jacket over his broad shoulders and leaving his chest exposed.
The glow from a lit cigarette gave his position in the faint radiance of the morning dusk. The world was a strange hue of purple and orange; somewhere off in the distance, a crow gave its battle cry.
The ferryman was nowhere to be seen; a wendigo stalking from beyond the blackened tree line. Cross felt himself already tire, and he debated whether or not he should just tuck himself back in bed.
The three left their nightly accommodation behind as they trailblazed across the map. Evelyn constantly unbraided and re-braided her damp hair, muttering to herself about the lake she bathed in and the strange smell it left on her person. She avoided eye contact with both ghoul's and didn't offer much in conversation, there was an awkward tinge in the air that no one wished to address.
Despite nearly clearing the edge of the forest, a sizable yao guai finally made an appearance with a terrifying charge, and almost all three welcomed the distraction with audible relief. A round of shells and some well-placed bullet holes failed to incapacitate the creature, until a fallen tree log unexpectedly collided with the side of it. Both tree and mutated bear were sent flying, crashing through the forest with an explosion of noise.
Both ghouls spun their heads around at their smaller comrade; she simply wiped the dirt from her hands and continued along without them. For the second time that day, they both exchanged a completely emotionless stare; their telepathic thought relaying to the other.
I won't make her upset if you won't.
When they had finally arrived at the next town that evening, Evelyn paused at the outskirts, reading a crudely painted sign aloud.
"Crawshad?" She tilted her head, the puckering of her lips indicating her displeasure. "Craw…shad." She brought a finger up to her lips as the name formed on her tongue, rolling the words around as though tasting it.
"Not to your likin'?" Cross mused at her.
"It's a disgusting name." She decided, giving a dismissal with a wave of her hand. "I hate it."
Her tone was so matter-of-factly the ghoul couldn't help but laugh. It was stupid, hating a particular word. "Yeah, well, get used to it. We're goin' to be here for the next two days."
She whirled on him. "Two days?!"
He nodded and pointed to the far horizon. "See those mountains?"
She squinted. "No."
"Exactly." He began to walk past her and into town. "Those sandstorms cover ground fast, and if you're caught in that, well, you won't live to die in Braxton."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. Two days." They continued on together.
"Three rooms, please." The clerk gave a bored glance at the three of them, finally relenting with a shrug and turning around to fetch the appropriate keys.
"What's the third one for?" The merc asked stupidly, watching the exchange.
A small, bronze key was held out to him; the patina giving authentication to its age. "For you."
The bounty hunter's eyes turned to slits. "I can't tell if that's a joke."
The key was wiggled before him. "Then you can sleep in the streets, if you like."
It gradually came to rest in between two gray fingers, and then disappear inside his palm as his hand curled into a fist. "I know where I'll be sleepin'." He growled.
The clerk gave an awkward cough, and all three of them turned their attention. "Uh-" The clerk began, clearing their throat. "Your rooms are just down that way." A small, pale finger pointed to a door on their right. His ginger head tracked the trio as they disappeared into the hallway beyond.
Evelyn came to her door, unlocking it to reveal a pitch-black entrance. Swiping a hand along the wall, her fingers met with the electrical switch and it flicked with a click. The room was as expected; the bonus was the private bathroom.
"I wonder if there's hot water." She mused, stepping inside and tossing her bag at the foot of her bed. "A bath would be a Godsend."
She heard the bounty hunter's large footsteps lumber down the hallway some more, finally coming to a halt. The click of a door opening indicated he had found his room.
"Shall I wait in the hallway tonight?" Charon asked her, almost uncertainly. His room key was enclosed in his fist.
Evelyn paused, her hands rummaging through her bag. A frown settled on her lips. "You can do whatever you want tonight, big guy. I think I'm just gonna shower and sleep. I'm pretty tired. Throw a party; I don't care." She waved a hand at him. "You should try and relax."
He gave a curt nod, wavering before he left her to her own devices. A thought came to his tongue, but he bit on it and turned away. Her back was to him and her attention was distracted; she did not even notice his absence until a grunt snapped her from her daze. She was in the process of lightly unpacking; Cross's massive frame came to fill her open doorway.
"Was that a dog and pony show?" He inquired, inviting himself inside and closing the entry behind himself. The ferryman had retired a few doors down. "Or did I piss you off somehow?"
Evelyn laughed at his serious tone; a simple gray tank top being tossed onto her bed. "Are you seriously so upset you have to sleep alone?"
"No." He answered honestly, moving to lean against her dresser with his arms crossed. His expression was smoldering. "But I would rather sleep with you."
She gave an amused snort. "Well, sleep is exactly what I want tonight. I'm fucking exhausted." She had a cynical glint to her eyes. "I'm sure you can find other company tonight somewhere in this town."
Jesus. The merc sighed aggravatedly; his boat had suddenly sailed into treacherous waters, and any wrong word could capsize him. "I don't want to be with another woman." He rasped at her truthfully. "I want you."
"Well you can't have me tonight; I'm very busy." She removed her jacket and angrily slapped it against a chair in the corner, going to unstrap her boots. "Goodnight."
Cross worked his jaw in frustration; Evelyn was the worst sort of woman he could have attached himself to. The kind that liked to argue just for the sake of arguing. She would push his buttons because she was beginning to figure them out; all for the sake of some deranged, mental satisfaction. He knew this because he was the same; their relationship already spelled disaster.
His boat was beginning to sink; the water pouring in faster than he could dump over.
Stupidly, he stalked up to her rather than turn for the door. He grabbed at her wrist, freezing her in place. "Look, what do you want from me right now?" He glowered down at her. "If you want me to leave, I will. You want me to go fuck someone else? You can swing by and pick me up in the mornin'."
His instincts screamed danger as her eyes grew cold and she glared at him icily. "Let. Go." She whispered vehemently. "I don't care what you do."
He held on, his other hand going to reach around her waist. His fingers trembled slightly as her whole body tensed under him. Terrified.
"I think you do." He spoke carefully, inspecting a breach in the hull of his ship. A quick prayer was recited in hope that it was manageable. "You're mad, because it feels good. And you're mad at me, because you know I can take it."
A brief flash of emotion in her face…shame?
The boat survived a high swell; the frigid, salty water drenching him. "I want to stay the night with you. We don't have to have sex; it won't kill me." Internally, it would. "You're the woman I want…and if you want me gone, I'll go."
Her icy demeanor was beginning to break, and that trademark lip bite finally broke through. He sighed in relief. The sea appeared smooth again, and the mast was ready to unfurl.
"I don't know what I want." She whispered it so forlornly he was at a loss of words for a moment.
He released her wrist and gently held her face, pulling her eyes up to his. "I do." And with that, he embraced her in a kiss, easily sweeping her off her feet and relocating them to the bed.
They were now adrift again, sailing the seven seas.