|Jackson||It'd been a rather lazy day at the inherited settlement Jack had taken to calling, "Parkes Point". The majority of the deputy's time had been spent capping ghouls and hauling their bodies to the far-off burn pile in the space he'd soon be devoting to farmland, and it was busy work. With the steamy rays of the Mojave sun beating down on him as he dragged the rotten corpses through the property, Jack had worked up a hell of a sweat, and a prominant, nagging feeling of laziness that he just couldn't kick. So, after working through the morning, he decided to call up Tibbie for a few drinks on the porch of the Ranchhouse. The burn-pile was far enough away that the smell wouldn't get there, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate a little company from time to time. Especially hers.
So, there Jack was, absent his shirt and vest, hair slicked under a red bandana, with his duster hanging loosely on his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. His feet were propped up against the porch's newly crafted wooden railling, and an ice cold glass of beer sat half-empty between his fingers as he gazed at the pile of empties he'd managed to work through already. It'd been a hell of a day. He peered at Tibbie through the lenses of his glasses, and idly sips at his beer.
"So Reavers, huh? Definitely beats the shit out of my day. If If I have to touch another ghoul corpse today, I think i'm gonna' shoot myself."
|Tibbie|| "Well it's good y'aint then!" Tibbie laughs and takes a sip of beer herself. She's no longer in her militia guard gear or coated in motor oil, and she even brought over some Texan BBQ deathclaw ribs from the trip back home for Jack to try out.
"I tell ya what Jack, bein out here's a bit better on my nerves. Back in El Dee there's been some real conniptions going on.." Tibbie explained to Jack the huge flying object above the town that vanished in a blink, the shooting star that chased her, and the exploding Conway who tried to kill her!
"I'm so scared to sleep at night Jack, something spookier than Dunwich is comin fer El Dee!"
|Jackson||As Tibbie conveyed the details of the recent happenings down toward El Dorado, the deputy busied himself with digging in to the deathclaw meat with ravenous abandon. He did his best to do so cleanly, but couldn't help but dribble a bit of sauce onto his cheeks as he greedily swallowed the food. He'd yet to eat yet that day, and when the mouth-watering dinner was brought onto the property, he nearly cried at the smell alone-- and don't even get him started on the taste. He hadn't had Deathclaw until he'd met Tibbie, and now that he did, he just couldn't stop eating the stuff. One of these days he'd have to bring her back one of the beasties so he could try it fresh off the bone.
However, her words were troubling. A bit insane, yes-- but given the circumstances surrounding the town of Roswell last year, they had their own bits of credibility. It was bad enough that she was being harassed by strange visions, but the news of the object hovering over his home at night etched a frown into Jack's face. Maybe he'd been spending too much time up in Mojave. That, or maybe he'd not spent nearly enough time up this way. Either way, at the news, the man remained silent for a moment as he finished his food, then, after wipping his face clean, he took another gulp of his beer.
"Shit, Tibbs. I.. Don't really have anything for that one. Normally this would be the time I'd tell ya' you should probably lay off the booze, but you don't exactly sound like you're full of shit or anything." Jack paused for a moment, looking out over his farm, then rose from his seet and angled his head up toward the sky.
"If it makes ya' feel any better, you can stay here if you'd like. Plenty o' room up this way. But... That kinda' stuff makes me think it's time for me to head back home. I don't like the thought of something like that fucking with my family's graves."
|Tibbie|| "My Ma, Butter, Conway, Jefecito,Davey and Gus and.." She lists off more odd names, likely the animals she's named on the farm. "They're all in trouble too! I dunno how, but we all gotta clump up and kick they asses outta our town!" Tibbie says with determination, and it seems her accent's a bit thicker and Texan since that visit. She downs the end of her can and reaches for another.
"I just aint got the brains for that sorta plan and the brains that can is prolly too busy fer somethin like that, plus aint no critters gonna git at em in that bunker, so they don't gotta care if they choose." Tibbie pouts and a can hisses open. Tibbie sets her cowboy hat on her lap now and looks at it.
"We got so much to lose.. And compared to most well, I aint nothin special enough to fight for em without help, I jus..wanna be better for em someday." Sad sap Tibbie must've drank too much, the usual optimism in her eyes is replaced with an oncoming gloss of tears.
|Jackson||Jack saw a lot of himself in Tibbie as she replied to him. As she spoke of her family, the young deputy couldn't help but allow a jaded smile to stretch across the length of his face. The up-beat, bubbly woman he'd come to know had faded away for the briefest moment. In her place stood someone scared-- someone unsure of their place in this wasteland, and with a future as cloudy as the beer in her can. She was angry, and ornery, and determined. That much was readily visible as her accent thickened ever-so slightly. He liked it. That fire inside of her was much like his own.
Though he'd never admit it, it was rage that carried him to victory. Anger and the lust for control over his destiny had been his existence from the moment Operation Overlord had concluded. But much as Jack had, and would inevitably do again, she was beginning to doubt herself. Her words spelled it out for him. Her cheery facade began to fade as she cracked another beer, and when her words reached his ears, he turned, wordlessly walked over to her, and kneeled down so he faced her at eye level. He removed his glasses-- something he'd yet to do up until this point in her presence-- and fixed his stern, calculating emeralds on Tibbie's tear-filled pupils.
"Y'know, just a few months ago, i was tellin' myself the exact same thing." He began, his tone soft, tranquil, and understanding.
"I talk a big game, but when I lost Ma and Pa, I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt powerless. With guys like Ashur, and Kaelyn, and Stockton walkin' around, how's a guy supposed to make a difference against folks like the Enclave?" As he continued, he did his best to keep his gaze fixed firmly on Tibbie's, and nonchalantly took a sip of his beer as he paused, cracking a bit of a smile.
"You know what I did after that?" He stopped for another moment, giving her time to try and guess. When no answer came, he answered for her.
"My skillless, clueless, absolutely inexperienced-ass walked into an Enclave air traffic control tower, planted a bomb, figured out they were headed up here toward New Vegas, and got the entire El Dorado Federation pointed in the right direction. You know how I did that?" Again, he paused, his smile growing larger.
"I just cared. And you? You care about people more than anyone else I've talked to in El Dorado."
|Tibbie|| Tibbie's smile matches Jacksons' when he's finished and she pulls him in for a long hug in silence. She blinks her eyes over his shoulder and the tears subside. Letting him free now her smile is sincere and appreciative of his reassurance. Her hat's been dented in the moment and she now prods the dent out and back to normal, setting it aside.
"Thanks Jackson." she says softly. So what if a lil bbq sauce got on her shoulder, it was a good moment between the two!
|Jackson||Jack hugged her tight after she pulled him in, and they stayed there for a long moment, both of them doing what they could to forget their troubles as Tibbie's tears silently abandoned her. The wasteland was a rough place. Sometimes, it felt bigger than you were-- bigger than one could possibly imagine. But in a moments of weakness, it's the words and touch of a friend that can bring the world back into perspective. As they parted, and Tibbie thanked him, Jack slid his glasses back onto his face, and handed her her mildly-dented hat with a nod of his head.
"No thanks necesary. Sometimes, all ya' need is someone to bring things back into perspective. I'm sure you'd do the same for me one day when I need it." Though the emotion in his words was genuine, he couldn't help but feel a twist of pain resonate in his mind at the mention of perspective. He was happy he could help-- she was someone he cared about. The deputy just wished he'd had someone to do the same for him before it was already too late.
After the uncharacteristically moment of Jackson's soft-heartedness, they continueed to chat idly about their futures as they finished off the rest of the drinks. They were both worried about the sightings, but they figured it was nothing that couldn't wait one more day. So, after finishing their drinks, they went their seperate ways, and Jackson began to plan to El Dorado the following morning.