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Aris It's just after sunrise, though you'd hardly know it. The sun hides behind thick gray clouds that promise spring rain before the day is done.

A dark haired woman sits on the front steps of the old farmhouse on Brigham's property, watching the leaves of root crops swaying in the wind. Wearing her usual brown and denim clothing, with that suede cowboy hat perched on her head, she looks like she's waiting for something. Or someone.
Conway Conway comes down the dirt and gravel trail leading to the farm in a slow trot. His classic black fur felt hat is tipped forward over his eyes to keep the sun out of them while riding, holding onto the reins with scratched bloody hands. A lariat is looped over his right shoulder and the end of it sways back and forth with each movement of the horse.

As he moves further onto the property in the semi-circle the barn and farmhouse sit, he notices Aris sitting on the porch of the farmhouse. He takes off his hat by grabbing the brim, giving it a small wave in the air. He changes direction on his horse, pulling the reins to the left to guide the horse towards the farmhouse.

When him and his horse are just a few feet away from Aris, he dismounts cleanly off the left side, walking around the front of the horse to tie it to the railing along the steps. "Air, what'ya doing?"
Aris Spotting Conway coming up the dirt drive, Aristide stands, straightening her hat in acknowledgement of his greeting. A large bloodstain along the waist and thigh of her jeans becomes apparent, but by the looks of it, it's a day or so old. She doesn't look to be wounded at all.

"'Morning," Aris offers the farmer, taking a moment to admire the horse he's just rode up on. Her white mare can be spotted grazing weeds alongside the old barn down yonder. "Lookin' for you, as a matter of fact."
Conway Conway raises his eyebrows, coming around the side of his horse to stand below the steps near Aris. He looks up at her, noticing the blood stain on her thigh and waist. He doesn't say anything for the time being. "Was lookin' for you all day yesterday, so I guess we're even." He grabs the large chest pocket of his bib overalls, pulling the denim material out away from him so he can see inside. Then he lets his arms fold back over his chest, not taking anything out.

"You can go first, what'ya need?" He's got bags underneath his eyes, even though he's having to pull less weight around the farm since he has a new employee.
Aris "Only thing 'found me yesterday was trouble," Aris replies with a half-grin, but she doesn't elaborate. Instead, she moves back up the steps towards the front door of the farmhouse. "C'mon, got somethin' to show ya real quick." She motions inside with a tilt of her head, holding the screen door open for Conway.
Conway Conway hears 'trouble' and doesn't think much of it. How much trouble could a farmgirl get in besides getting shit on by a cow while milking? He nods his head once, grabbing the railing with his veinyh scratched hand. He walks up the steps, slipping past Aris inside as she holds open the screen door.
Aris Once they're inside, the dark haired girl heads straight for the kitchen. On the long oak table, piled high, is a veritable mountain of harvested turnips from his fields, washed and bundled by their greens with twine. "My aunt used to tie 'em together like that 'fore taking' 'em to market or caravan," Aris muses, lifting a trio of them and handing them to Conway. "Make transport easier, for you and whoever buys 'em." She watches his face, reading his expression.
Conway Conway looks at the turnips he's handed, spinning them around by the length of twine to look for imperfections. "Very nice." He has an impressed look on his face, he didn't expect much out of a new worker. He's had farmhands before he's had to feed to the pigs. "Aha, I almost forgot." He opens up the bib of his overall he checked earlier, pulling out a dirty plastic bag filled with caps. It looks like it held a sandwich before.

He underhand tosses it onto the kitchen table next to Aris, outstretching his finger to point at it after. "Three hundred." He places his hands in the pockets of his denim overalls, leaning the side of his broad shoulder on the kitchen doorway column. "Gave you extra for your work and the absence of the cook."
Aris Gray eyes watch that bag of caps land on the table. She grins. "Mighty kind of you, Brigham," Aris answers, retrieving the bag and shaking the caps into a pouch on her belt. She slides the plastic bag back to him. Conway might need it for a sandwich! "You keep payin' me, I'll keep stickin' around, ya know. Like those damned barn cats. Fed 'em a bit a' ham once, now they're my shadow all day and I can't get rid of 'em." She leans back against the table, watching him lean in the doorway. "Probably not the smartest thing you'll ever do."
Conway Conway takes his plastic bag up, folding it neatly into fourths. He shoves it in his bib, folding his arms over his chest. He makes eye contact, his brown eyes meeting the gaze of her gray ones. "I can always shoot them, if you want." There's a level of seriousness in his voice. He shares a sly smile, standing back up straight. He looks down at her waist and thigh again, noting the old blood stain. "Do you need me to ride out and buy you some stringtails from the general store, hun?"
Aris Aristide scrutinizes the man with a look, sure he's not serious about the cats. But just in case: "Shoot my shadows, an' I'll shoot you," she answers, not quite smiling but there's humor sparkling in her eyes. She only maintains eye contact for so long, though, strange girl that she is. Those gray eyes wander down to her jeans as Conway's do. "Little blood never hurt no one, I always say," she muses, rubbing at a bit of blood with her thumb. It goes nowhere. "Got bit helpin' some asshole north of town. Teach me to mind mah own business, next time."
Conway Conway nods his head with his jaw a bit lowered. "Ah, I was thinking it was 'that time of the month'". He jests, chuckling to himself. He rocks from heel to toe, keeping his hands in the pockets of his overalls. "Don't help if there ain't nothing to gain. No need to get yourself in an uneccessary scrape." He bends over a bit, keeping his knees straight but lowering his back - examining all the blood on her. "You must have been bleeding like a stuck hog."

"I can wash those for you, and you can wear some bibs in the meantime." He rolls his shoulders, offering to launder the blood out. He stands back up straight, fishing around the inside of his bib for a piece of gum.
Aris Conway's 'time of the month' joke earns him a quick turnip thrown squarely at his torso. She's got a good arm, too. "I'm armed," she reminds him evenly, gesturing to the shotgun on her back. Doesn't seem to mean it, though, because then she continues, "Where I come from, that's the general sentiment. 'Don't help if there ain't nothing to gain'. But..." She shrugs her slender shoulders a bit. "Dunno. New town, new job. Thought I'd try and change things up, see how it felt." Glancing at her ribs where her wound had been, she wrinkles her nose a bit. "Just hurts, so far."

When he offers to clean her jeans, a muscle in her jaw flexes, considering. "Some bibs?" Aris asks after a moment, her brows raising skeptically.
Conway Conway flinches a bit as the turnip hits him dead-center in the sternum. "Oof." He manages to hold his hands out before it drops to the floor, catching it after it collides with his chest. He rubs his chest in a circle with his palm, "You hurt your boss." He chuckles, setting the turnip on the kitchen table. "Yeah, some bibs!"

He holds out a finger for a gesture of 'one moment', walking upstairs to grab a pair of tan bib overalls. He brings them downstairs, stepping into the kitchen again. "Hand me your clothes and put these on." He holds it in one hand, balancing the bib overalls on his forearm. "You might have to roll the legs up a bit."
Aris Gray eyes watch as the farmer moves out of the kitchen and disappears upstairs. When he comes back, Aris has moved into the main living area, arms crossed in her continued skepticism. She looks at the garment in his hand for a long moment. "Do I look like an overalls type of girl?" she finally chuckles, glancing down at herself. If we're being honest, she looks more like a bandit on the run than a farmer.
Conway Conway shrugs his shoulders, "I always thought a clown suit would be more fitting." He gives a cheeky smile, planting the overalls on the kitchen table. "The offer still stands." He manages to finally find a piece of spearmint gum, unwrapping it tediously with his thumbs. He pops it in his mouth, gnawing on it. He offers Aris a single long skinny piece in the aluminium foil wrapping. "Gum?"
Aris Aris eyerolls at Conway's clown comment, but here she comes, taking him up on his offer. For gum, anyway. She unwraps it slowly, delicately, and chews it slower than you ought to, like it's something to be savored. Maybe it is, these days. "Thank ya kindly," she murmurs, standing closer now. But her eyes are wandering over towards those overalls. She frowns, but moves to grab them anyway. "I'll wash 'em myself," she insists stubbornly, starting to unbutton the bloody jeans she's referring to. She does a little 'twirl' motion with one finger, wordlessly telling him to avert his eyes for the moment.
Conway Conway sticks the pack of gum back into his front bib, "Not a problem." He takes off his hat, fanning himself with it while chewing his own piece. Though, he's not chewing it like a cow like Aris. He chuckles, tapping his stomach when she gives him the motion to not look while she's changing. He complies, turning around. He scans for anything infront of him with a reflection so he can peek though. Sneaky! "How's the milking process been going for you, eh? Any new bruises?"
Aris "You'd know if you were lookin'," Aristide replies about new bruises, chuckling low under her breath. There's the sound of a belt unbuckling, then hitting the rough wooden floor. "I'm figurin' it out. Not as easy as pluckin' turnips out of the ground, though," she answers more seriously. Clothes can be heard rustling, and the metal bits on the overalls suspenders clanking together.
Conway Conway watches in a vase, letting out a low whistle. "It'll be second nature soon enough." He pops a bubble with his piece of gum, making an audible snap. He folds his arms over his chest, his back still turned on Aris. "You decent enough where I can turn around now?" He hears the familiar sounds of overall straps being fastened which prompts him to say that.
Aris Her figure, as good as he can make out in a vase anyhow, seems skinnier than it ought to be. Although she's short, the shape of her hips suggest she's meant to be a bit curvier. There's little telling why she isn't anymore. Conway's whistle earns him a peculiar look, though he can't see it as far as she knows. After a few more moments of rustling clothes, she murmurs, "Sure thing, boss." When he turns, Aris is just now fastening the first overall strap over a scrappy white tank that's seen better days. He was right about the pants-- they'll need rolled. "Damned if it doesn't look like I belong here now," she says with a despondent sigh, glancing at him.
Conway Conway turns around, looking at Aris in the baggy overalls. He can't help but let out a laugh, covering his mouth to stifle it. "You look great." He approaches Aris, taking a knee infront of her feet. "Don't worry, I ain't proposing." Conway's the king of laughing at his own jokes, and that'd be one of them. He starts to roll up her pantlegs about two inches until they sit over the top of her work boots. "If you don't roll them you'll look like a disco dancer and you'll be tearing holes."

He stands back upright, heaving a grunt as he pushes up on his knees to become straight. Probably some underlying back problems. "What's your plans for today? You've got the day off, you know."
Aris "The fuck is a 'disco'?" Aristide asks bluntly, face tilted down to look at him as he rolls those pants up. When he's done, she offers a hand down to help him up, then pokes his ribs. "And it'd take a lot more'n a piece of gum an' some overalls to get me to settle down." Now she's half-grinning, before moving to gather up her dirty clothes. She adds as an afterthought, "Plan on not working, is all. Wouldn't wanna dirty up these bad boys." The overalls, she means.
Conway Conway gives a dismissive wave, "Old dance music that came and went, don't worry about it." He takes hold of Aris's hand, using it as a support to help himself up. He dusts the knees of his overalls of, "Thank'ya." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head. "Don't forget the horse, missy." He smiles with a single corner of his mouth. He holds out his arms with his palms face-up as a gesture for her to hand over the clothes. "Any other laundry I need to know about?"
Aris "Forget about Asskicker? Not in a million years!" Aristide argues, glancing out one of the front windows to watch the mare grazing near the barn. Did she just say 'Asskicker'? When Conway reaches for her clothes, though, she shakes her head, long dark hair shifting against her now-bare shoulders. "Not lettin' you wash my laundry, Brigham," she muses, coming up close to level her gaze on him with feigned suspicion. "Reckon you just wanna handle my delicates, anyways."
Conway Conway frowns at the name 'Asskicker', was the name he gave the horse not good enough? Huh, HUH?! Anyways, Conway sticks his hands up in the air as if a cop was ordering him back. "All yours." He scoffs at the underwear handling remark, "Your delicates probably aren't so delicate, hun. Don't flatter yourself." He takes a step back and grabs the turnip he was pelted with earlier off the kitchen table, taking a bite into it. "Now. I've got a project I need your help with. You interested in labor this week?"
Aris Did she just stick her tongue out at him? She just stuck her tongue out at him. Tossing her dirty clothes near the door, Aristide turns and makes herself comfortable in that chair Conway likes to eat his pancakes in. "What sorta project?" the dark haired woman asks, playing with a front pocket on the canvas overalls, unused to one being there.
Conway Conway likes Aris's cheekiness. Oh wait, what the shit. Did she just sit in his pancake chair? He smiles with his teeth showing like a maniac, but closes his lips after a few seconds, letting it happen. You know what, it's okay. Aris is just warming it up with her butt. He folds his arms over his chest, standing infront of the chair she's in while looking down to watch her play with the bib. "Well, I've got a construction project out in Roswell. I've got two people on it, a woman and I. Another set of hands would be helpful."

He goes further into the job, speaking with his hands alot. "We're building a trap for Glowing Ones. It mounts to a doorframe, and then they all pile out inside. Then we set them ablaze, that's the plan. I can give you fifty resources extra onto your check for each day worked on the project." He places his hands back in his pockets, looking back down at her half-expectingly, "So?"
Aris The pancake chair is comfy, the farmhand seems to think, because she's settled in good now, folding her legs up under her and everything. She listens, too, glancing up at Conway and nodding a bit as he speaks. But when he's done explaining, her dark brows furrow over her lighter eyes. "...Why don'tcha just shoot 'em all?" she asks. Her tone is completely earnest, like 'shooting them' was always a viable solution to any problem.
Conway Conway stares blankly at Aris when she suggests shooting them. "It's a whole neighborhood we're clearing out. Each house has hundreds." He comes over around the side of the pancake chair, pulling a lever. The bottom part of a legstand springs up, it's a recliner! He steps off to the side, looking back at her. "And I ain't got that much ammo, a good trigger finger, and we don't wanna put holes in the walls." ... "Extracting a whole house of'em at a time will be much easier."
Aris When the legrest comes out, Aris startles, but it ends in a grin. Her legs streeeetch out along its length, crossing at the ankles. If her mother was supposed to teach her about not putting shoes on the furniture, she apparently didn't. "I gotta good trigger finger," she muses, looking up at Conway. "But hundreds sounds like a waste a' ammo. Let's go with your plan." Her lips purse in consideration for a moment, then she offers, "Sixty extra per day. Saw you lookin' in the vase." Her gray eyes meet his darker ones squarely.
Conway Conway stares at Aris's work boots on the recliner. His eye twitches, but he still remains silent with a small smile. He looks down at Aris, keeping his arms folded over his chest. He nods when she affirms his plan, but his eyebrow raises at the proposition for sixty extra. Shit. She saw him looking. He clears his throat, prying the strap of his overall a bit. "Sixty. That sounds fair. I thought a girl like you'd be charging me five thousand, but thanks for the mercy." He smiles slyly, looking in her gray eyes.
Aris "Touching'll run ya more," Aristide replies evenly, just the hint of a grin at the corner of her lips. But then she offers her hand up for a handshake, nodding once. "Sixty, and I'll help with yer glow problem whatever days ya need."
Conway Conway bends his back, grabbing Aristide's hand firmly. He gives it a few pumps in affirmation of the deal. "Might have to pay the extra." He shares the smile, letting her hand go. He places his hands in the front pocket of his bib, letting them casually rest there. "Enjoy the chair, and I'll wake you up in the morning for work." He wags his finger, stepping away from her chair. "Don't be a hastle getting up, or I'll join you under the covers!" He cackles, grabbing the half-eaten turnip off the table.
Aris "Yessir, I'll be expectin' that five thousand any day now," the dark haired woman muses, using his rough farmer's hand as leverage to lift herself out of the seat. So long, pancake chair. "Reckon I'll go take Asskicker for a ride and turn in early tonight," she says, heading toward the door to gather up her shotgun and dirty clothes. His ultimatum earns him a wry grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." Toeing open the door, Aris offers Conway a long look before heading out into the yard alone.