Risques fingers drew languid patterns upon his limb. Her touch was near...electric. Subtle though it was. Darcy distinctly aware of every curve and sweep of her finger as his temper flared hotly. Kasey was trying his patience. This whole fucking town was trying his pateicne and te soone rthey left it behind to rot in the past where it belonged the better. Darcy's own words were nothing short of biting. Tsoe distinctly Southern insults returned to him as if he had hardly been aware. His words biting where he knew it hurt as Kasey's own features flushed in a mixture of anger and shame. Her Mother never had been a pretty woman- and how damn well Kasey knew it. Risque, for her part, seemed to take an equal pleasure in watching Kasey fall apart. His mate's words were nothing short of honey on silk and yet they were biting all the same. That sting concealed beneath that honeyed sweetness like poison. How very...superior Risque was to any other woman here. Her figure alone was exquisite compared to those southern girls and yet it was far more than that. Darcy, in that moment, relished in her very...intelligence. In the way she saw so perfectly through Kasey and tore that little woman apart piece by piece. Some predatory part of him was near fascinated in watching that verbal disembowelment. The pair of them, perhaps, silently united in that destruction even if they had hardly voiced a word of it to one another. Darcy hardly understood that French that left his mate's lips and yet he was assured it was hardly complementary. Those words seemed to prompt Kasey to seeth all the more until Roscoe's grip upon her tightened. A silent command to silence. Roscoe's patience, it seemed, was hardly so limited as he pretended. Darcy was far more aware of that dynamic then he so truly let on. That other vampire sure to show his hand sooner or later.
Roscoe's words were offered to Darcy alone. Risque all but ignored as Roscoe chose to do as those SOuthern men so often did and address only the man. How very dangerous a game Roscoe played. Had the mountain of a man truly not yet discovered the dynamics of the relationship before him? Was he truly oblivious to Risque's own dominance? How very nearly another snarl threatened to rise within the cowboys own throat. To disrespect his Mistress was a sin of the highest order. One he was unwilling to tolerate and yet Risque herself seemed merely...bemused by Roscoe's faux pas. The alcohol that coursed within Darcy's own system seemed to soothe that ire that so normally tore at his very veins in discontent. If Risque sought to punish Roscoe for his indiscretion- then she would. Daryc, for now, content to hold his own position as he had nearly been trained to do- until his lover so commanded otherwise of him. That hand Risque brushed along his leg was a veritable reminder of just what was required of him- of mate his mate expected. Darcy, for now, merely content to afford Roscoe his attention even if he was assured the other man was wasting his damn breath. How he would have liked far more of his lovers touch- on far more than merely his leg. Hmmm, that alcohol, it seemed, was eager to coax at those other wants within himself. That timing be damned.
Roscoe's command was near barked toward Kasey, the woman obediently rose to do as she was bid and fetched more of that moonshine. Darcy reached for the nearest sealed bottle, that seal cracked a moment later only for him to pour those glasses for Risque and himself before passing one to his mate. Mixing those moonshines was a near...lethal combination and yet how he desired that burn of the alcohol. How he desired that fog to take away those memories that nipped at his minds like dogs at the heel. He felt almost...thirsty for that drink and how willing he was to take it. Roscoe's own gaze seemed to watch that exchange between them. The other vampire seemed to consider what existed before him and yet for now, at least, he said little of it. The man instead offered that...proposal of sorts. As if some patch of dirt might entice them to stay when Darcy had spent the better part of the night trying to detach himself from the shit heap that had been his childhood home. Would this town never just let him be!? Those words that rose from his lips were hardly...gentle in any sense. Darcy was content to speak the truth on just what he thought of that town. Risque as a farmer? How much of a fucking fool was this Roscoe? He had managed to rise above this pile of dust and cow shit. He had managed to make a life for himself. A comfortable life. No part of him was at all inclined to return to the dustbowl of his birth. Risque had shown him the true meaning of life in every sense. She had shown him how a vampire should live. No part of that cowboy desired to return to the meager existence he'd once survived on. Why would he choose to remain among mortals when a goddess herself had extended her hand towards him all those years ago? Risque, in the very least, seemed to find some quaint humour in Roscoe's efforts before those biting words were exchanged between the masculine pair. Boy? Who the fuck was Roscoe calling Boy? That singular word a distinctly potent insult even despite it's seemingly subtle tones.
Risque's voice interjected into that moment of silence then. His beloved having taken....issue with Roscoe's own insistence she was 'mouthy' in turn and yet as was his mate's manner she so hardly grew flustered. Even beneath the sway of that drink her words remained poised, calculated. Roscoe and Kasey so hardly seemed to realise the veritable danger they were in. Neither so ever having dealt with a creature quite like Risque. Her unique, predatory nature was so hidden beneath that silken layer. A perfect trap. One that begged others to underestimate her as the vampires across from them had. Her very words were nothing short of a distinct and potent blow to Roscoe's very small.......brain. Even Darcy could hardly prevent that soft snort of amusement that rose within his throat, a simper tugged at his lips. One that flashed those rows of fangs that existed beneath. The tension at that table had reached its taught point as Risque loudly placed her glass back down. How ready Darcy was. Even with that alcohol that all but burned at his veins that desire to tear into Roscoe persisted. Each of those vampires simply seemed to....wait for the first move- before a shout from the end of the table prompted all heads to turn towards Clay. The man suggested they shoot for it.
Roscoe was quick to seize onto that offered gamble. Shoot-outs after all, were damn near common in this part of the country. Darcy inclined to believe Roscoe was a decent shot if he was willing to challenge him. That wager however was....unanticipated. Ten years here in this town? A snort of disdain found its way from Darcy's nose. Ten years was...nothing to the immortal life of a vampire and yet ten years away from the city, from Syn, from the comforts of the home he had chosen for himself was.....displeasing. Risque too would hardly take pleasure in the roles of a housewife. She would level that town well before the ten years were out. Hmmm. Maybe it hardly mattered if he accepted that bet. If they destroyed the town there would be nowhere to serve that very sentence. Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted momentarily downward to eye his empty glass. How much of this had he had? Ten years was a long time. Then again he was no wuss. No man backed out of a bet. Risque would not be pleased. Maybe he could buy her more cats. She could have a cat.....farm. She'd like that. How readily his thoughts hardly seemed to make any sense. Darcy's head shook lightly in a vague effort to clear it before readily accepting that bet. After all, it wasn't as if he was about to lose a shooting competition- even....drunk. When he won this town would be Risque's- why not force it to manufacture and sell that very drink they had stolen from Mary-Beth in turn. Jakin had been making 'shine for centuries. There was real money to be made here.
That frown on Risque's features however were hardly missed. Darcy seemed to realise far too late that he had spoken for them both in that moment. A faux pas he had never before committed. The Southern Cowboy, for several moments, merely seemed inclined to stare towards his lover as his mind contemplated that very notion.
"Dun worry, I ain't gonna lose."
That, surely, would fill her with confidence. Darcy moved to rise from the table, the rest of those vampires following suit. Roscoe, with his short-sighted ideals, so hardly seemed to realise the true implications behind Darcy's own request. The announcement of that shoot-out seemed to fill that crowd with delight as men, women and children rushed from the barn in a veritable stampede. Each of them delighted at the chance to see this very game of chance. Risque's hand settled upon Darcy's thigh, her grip firm, drawing his attention towards her as her lips pressed to his ear in that sentiment that he better know what he was doing and that she so hardly trusted Roscoe at his word.
"I dun trust 'im neither. Dis game only takes two bullets but me gun's got at least 'our. Two for dem bottles, one spare and one fa Roscoe. I got dis."
Even in his...inebriated state Darcy had prepared for that deception by the other man. Risque's veritable permission to dominate them with his guns only further satisfied Darcy's own belief that this would be an easy task. His hand extended for his lovers own then, Risque neatly placing hers within it before she rose. That sudden act of standing seemed to prompt the feel of the Moonshine to truly strike his mate for the first time as her grip upon his hand tightened. The vampiric queen insisted her senses had fled her as Darcy's own had shook.
"Nah, das jus da shine. It makes everythin' kinda....fuzzy ya know? Like nothin's got....edges and everythin is....ya know. When stuff dun have edges an its all....er.....what's dat word for stuff wit no edges?"
Round, it seemed, was a word Darcy no longer possessed within his vocabulary, the Southern Vampire inclined to stare at his mate near expectantly. Risque would know the word. She knew all the words he was certain. In at least two languages. Darcy moved to lead the way outside then and amongst that gathered crowd. That makeshift shooting range was already set up as he drew his gun from its holster before gesturing for that place Risque could stand to watch that game. His mate, however, so hardly managed to walk (see: wobble) across that grass before Kasey blocked her path. That game was double shoots she said- that second shot belonging to Risque not himself. Shit. How readily that near sheepish look seemed to find his features as Risque queried whether or not he still believed he 'had this' before insisting she did not shoot guns. Fucking hell. This was not the game he agreed to and yet....Kasey was right. He'd agreed before asking for those terms. An amateur mistake. Fucking moonshine. Risque's sudden interjection that those targets were moving prompted Darcy's own mismatched gaze to peer down that field. The bottles and crates no more than specks in the distance. Were....they moving? Did crates move?
"I dun tink they movin' dat much."
Maybe just a little bit. Risque's demand to see his gun prompted Darcy to hand that weapon over obediently as his mate eyed it. This, by far, the most interest she had ever shown in those weapons in any sense. Risque so preferring a far more...personal method of destruction and yet. She flicked that safety off. The vampire Queen, for the briefest of moments, appearing to know just what she was doing and yet her stance was distinctly...uneven. Her command not to look at her like that prompted a near quizzical tilt to Darcy's own head. The man hardly sure his features had changed and yet that concern, he supposed, was far to clear upon his features- especially as she began to wave that gun around forcing several people in the crowd to duck for cover before that weapon did just as expected- that misfire echoing across the field like a thunder struck. That sound was drowned out only by Risque's hiss as the recoil that bit at her hand. Darcy shifted forward, prepared to take that gun, only for the children to rush forward around the body of a decidedly dead rooster. Risque, in that moment, seeming to delight in having shot....something as one of the women yelled to pick it up off th floor. Better to roast it then waste it.
"Yar did....real well ta shoot it, Darlin'"
She had hit....something, after al. Even if it had been far more accidental then purposeful. Darcy apparently was content to praise that effort. Risque shifted that gun within her hand, holding it as if it were diseased before passing it back to Darcy. Much to Kasey's amusement. The other woman had drawn her own gun. That perfectly pink, neat little hand gun a near perfect size for her far more femanine hands as she took her place beside Roscoe. Kasey's shot was....more impressive then Darcy had hope for, the woman managing to strike the bottle itself, shattering that glass before Roscoe stepped forward. The other vampire seemed to judge that distance a moment before firing. His bullet slamming solidly into the crate. Roscoe cursed. His wife had out-shot him and yet still, that bottle and crate gave them a decent score. That crowd all but roared in its excitement as Darcy moved to lead the way to that line for his and Risque's own turn. Risque needed to hit....something....anything.
"I'll show ya first, den it's yar turn."
This was not going to go well. Darcy moved to position that gun within his hand as it should be held, his arm extending outward to take aim.
"Make sure yar dun breath when yar aimin'. Yar breathin' will make da shot uneven. Yar wanna line dis part up with what yar wanna shoot. I use one 'and but yar gunna wanna 'ave two holdin' da grip so it dun recoil on yar again. When yar got dis part lined up wit what yar wanna shoot, breath out and pull da trigger."
That explosion of sound echoed across that space. The bottle at the end of the field shattering in that symbol of a perfect shot as the crowd cheered with excitement once more. Darcy, this time, passing the gun to Risque before moving to stand behind her. His arms lifted to wrap around her, his hands resting over her own, placing them as they should be before lifting her arms gently upward to help her take aim.
"Jus like dis, Darlin'"
How very...intimate that moment might have been if not for that crowd and the very notion Darcy knew he needed to step back and allow her to make that shot herself. Their very futures hung within the balance of that singular bullet. Darcy's arms gently unwrapped from around her. The southern vampire stepped backward to leave Risque to take that shot. The entire crowd fell silent in anticipation. Darcy's gaze lingered upon that gun, his focus distinctly...intense as Risque seemed to struggle to line up that clear shot, her finger resting perfectly on that trigger. Nearly.....Nearly.......The sudden sound of that gun firing prompted even Darcy's to blink in surprise. Risque's finger so hardly having moved at all. The gun somehow fired of its own accord. That bullet hissed through the air, striking that glass bottle at the far end, shattering it like Darcy's own. The vast majority of that crowd seemed to stare in a near stunned silence before Risque herself seemed to eye that gun in curiosity. Roscoe's sudden curse prompted those hoots and shouts and applause from the crowd as Darcy stepped for and toward his mate once more. That utter confusion upon his face ws distinctly clear.
"Did....ya....even shoot dat?"
Those very words were muttered to Risque alone before Kasey abruptly pushed through that crowd to snatch at that gun, the woman turning it over within her hands. You cheated! She didn't shoot that gun I feckin' swear she didn't! I was watchin her shakin' hands!
"Ya sayin dat gun shot it's self Kasey?"
I ain't no what it did but I know yar did somethin', Blackjack
"Yar got proof o dat? Either way yar and Roscoe lost. We'll send ya a contract bout sellin' dat shine."
Kasey's features twisted in clear disdain, that gun shoved back into Risque's hands, the womans words cut off by Roscoe as he strode forward to wrap one arm around Kasey once more, tugging her in and agianst him in that subtle gesture for silence. I don't know how you did it, but Im a man of my word, we'll sell your moonshine and-. The sound of yet another gun firing readily prompted Darcy to near whirl in place, Risque tugged protectively agianst him to avoid that bullet that collided near perfectly with the very center of Roscoe's head. The coven leader crashing down like a mountain. The man was hardly dead and yet he'd be unconscious for hours yet. Those shocked screams from amongst the crowd echoed into the night air, Darcy's own gaze shifted toward the single and only direction that bullet could have come from. The top of the barn. Someone was standing on the roof. Dacy near instantly recognising those unicron spurs.
"Dat fella on da-"
Risque shot Roscoe, I saw her!
Kasey's voice rose above those screams. The vampire woman gesturing frantically to the gun still in Risque's hand as Darcy so released his own mate. The Southern cowboy reached to snatch that gun from his lover then as if to remove that implication. Those other vampires, now beneath Kasey's command, were so rapidly beginning to surround them.
"Risque ain't shoot no one, I ain't shoot no one, i dun even tink dis fuckin' gun shot at all dis time and I- awww fuck it."
This was a lost cause. Darcy lifted that gun with ease just as the first of those opposing vampires dove at Risque, that first shot sending him careening into the ground. Darcy near expertly dodging the second vampire.
"Risque, we gotta go."
That vampiric burst of speed saw Darcy tear across that ground nearly instantly back towards the car, the man halted only at that retaliation that his mate was not following. Risque was still apparently content to attempt to face off with Kasey and several other vampires. How readily he had faith in his lovers skill and yet how very....dulled her senses were tonight. Kasey and several other vampires a fight Darcy was hardly inclined to risk the life of his mate on as he all but tore back across that field.
"Darlin, I ain't never dun dis 'efore but we ain't got time for dis."
Darcy shifted easily then to grasp his mate around her waist. Risque effortlessly thrown over his shoulder in a manner the man had hardly ever been bold enough to attempt before. Darcy once more turned on that veritable speed as he tore back towards the car. Kasey and her coven in pursuit.
We are rough men and used to rough ways.