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Private Well Howdy Partner

Discussion in 'Cascade Bay' started by Angela Ziegler, Dec 15, 2017.

  1. Angela Ziegler

    Angela Ziegler Overwatch

    Posts:
    144
    Gender:
    Female
    Occupation:
    Field Medic/First Responder
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    37
    Alignment:
    Neutral Good
    Date: December 2nd Year 7
    @Jesse McCree
    The woman stumbled against the put-up table in the shack she'd been living in for months now, her blood sugar levels dangerously low as it had gotten to the early hours of the night and she'd once more forgotten the need to feed herself. She'd been doing this more regularly, without the want to sustain herself, she didn't plan on starving herself to death, its just she got distracted with her lamenting and weariness. Angela's cheeks had long sunken in, her face looking more than gaunt as her body definitely looked a lot thinner in general, already a slim woman there really wasn't much left for her to lose.

    "Forgot again..." She whispered to herself after checking the time, her head hanging low as she forced herself upright again. It was late and Cascade Bay was strict on its people moving about during the night, but it seemed no one noticed the woman amongst the shadows as she had hoped on finding something, anything, still open and able to offer something for the doctor to buy and eat. Angela hadn't counted on there being three thugs hanging around the alleyway, seemingly disgruntled for whatever reason got youths in that state now.

    She'd tried turning for another direction but it seemed this time she had indeed been noticed, leaving the woman to cringe as the trio had come sauntering up to her, all smug at the sight of an easy victim. Angela wasn't in her Valkyrie suit, she didn't have her staff, she didn't even have her pistol for defence. There was no one to defend the healer now, and as her washed out eyes met that of the seeming leader's, it was almost like she was willing him to land a blow on her. Perhaps it would end her suffering for now.

    Cowardice perhaps, but when you've been through the amount she had, when you'd seen what Angela had, lost what she had, it changed you to say the least. Angela had been shown with this look before, the last time she'd seen Gabriel, wishing, hoping he'd just have snapped her neck. Alas, it hadn't happened and a week or so later, Pandora, the world was throwing another torment the blonde's way.
    "Looks like she wants it, boys." Angela heard the one in front of her say, wincing when one of the others had easily wrapped his meaty hand around her frail wrist, bringing both behind her back and kicking the back of her knees.

    Sent hurtling down onto the sand, the woman was greeted with a face full of the stuff, coughing as she tried to get it out of her mouth.
    "Not even gonna cry out, little bird? Don't be so boring!" One of the others now crooned horribly close to her ear, the warmth of his breath causing Angela to retreat in disgust. She'd of course only landed herself a kick to her jaw, the force enough, her body fragile enough that she had been sent tumbling on her side, a nasty red print of the man's boot now on her pallid flesh.

    No. She wouldn't cry out. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of it. Instead she'd at least push herself up onto her knees, which she had, until a boot had been stomped against her back, sending her chest crushing down against the ground with the sudden impact. As laughter filled the night air, Angela's eyes caught sight of the waves crashing against the shoreline, tears in her eyes as she felt grateful she'd be allowed to see the ocean at least before she should gasp her last breath.
     
  2. Jesse McCree

    Jesse McCree Overwatch

    Posts:
    21
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Bounty Hunter/Gunslinger
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    36
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Good
    'There are some things best done with your own two hands, Jesse, even in this day and age.' Funny, that Jesse can still hear her voice just the same as if she were talking to him. That vaguely accented English she used, the tone that didn't ask you to listen to it but vaguely commanded or just plain stated that you'd hear it anyway-- even if you didn't want to listen. Jesse McCree hadn't been much for listening-- at least, not at that point in his life. Kids were like horses, you could lead em to water but you couldn't make em drink. He appreciates his Grandma's wisdom more now than he ever had as a kid.

    She'd been right though, there was some things a man had to do on his own, personally. The effort you had to commit to the act was part of the point of it. So nearly as soon as he'd gotten his bearings in Horizon (as he'd been told the settlement was called) he was already looking at transport to get out. Oh, not that it didn't suit him fine, Jesse was Desert thorough and thorough he wouldn't feel right without the dry dust on his skin, the sun pelting down on his head and shoulders. He'd been born in the Desert, and if Jesse had his way he'd see that he died there too-- that was just the balance of it, the circle of life, really. Death was a ways off though, so he hoped at least.

    His tumbleweed heart, such as it was, was rootless, carried it's life contained-- the sort you could pick up and move anywhere, and he needed to know--- to see what he was dealing with here. What Pandora looked like, how the place breathed, Jesse needed the lay of the land. So-- off he went to get that for himself, the only way he knew would work, personally. With his own eyes.

    Cascade Bay isn't bad, with its salt spray ocean air-- it feels clean in his lungs anyway, like he could breath deep here and when he exhaled certainly things might be wiped away. Like that incense they used to burn in church, not that Jesse had ever really believed in that sort of thing.

    But trouble has a way of following Jesse McCree. Or maybe he followed it, sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference. He'd been strolling near the shore, enjoying how the stars bounced off the water, how the moonlight turned it to something like liquid silver, so different from the melted gold afternoons in the sunshine he'd grown used to.

    The walk doesn't stay peaceful, he should have seen that part coming.

    He comes up on 3 men, large, thick necked types. A petite woman in the sand facing away from Jesse, the shock of her bright blond ponytail the only thing that marked her from the darkness. Jesse knows the type of men, because they all have something in common, and once you knew what to look for it was easy to spot a predator, even if they had a human shape, the truth was revealed in their proverbial shadow. A sort of hunched over hungry dripping toothed thing reveals itself in their gait, the way they curl around their unfortunate victim. Always the rancid breathed whispers, the crooked uneven teeth in a mean curled grin, Jesse feels like he's been dealing with men like this his whole damned life. Thankfully, life has taught him a few lessons as to how to deal with their sort.

    The leader lifts his leg back, probably aiming another kick at the poor girl curled up in the sand, trying to protect her soft sides and middle. The kick never lands though.

    Jesse'd always been a quick draw, Peacekeeper always feels like she practically jumps into his hand, like she's as eager as he is, to spill a little blood--- to dispense a little justice.

    BANG!

    From 25 feet it's nothing to aim, give the trigger an even squeeze and put a bullet right into the back of the man's knee he was planning on kicking with. He reacts like Jesse thought he would-- yelps like a dog and goes down face first into the sand. He won't be getting up easily or quickly, so Jesse saunters closer, Peacekeeper still out and gleaming. Almost like he can feel her quivering in his hand-- like she don't want to be done yet. Maybe he don't want to be either.

    He doesn't want to kill them if he can help it though, feels like that might just scare the poor gal he's trying to help more than he needs to. She's been through enough tonight, no need for her to see more ugliness in the world. He must have downed the little groups leader first because the other two are looking between each other and at him like they've never seen a fella in a cowboy hat before. One of them reaches for a pistol and Jesse chuckles, mean and low.

    "Oh yeah, please try that. That's just gonna make my evening, and give me a damned fine excuse to see what the inside of your empty skulls gonna look like once I put a bullet through it." Jesse is moved closer now, the woman turned her head to look back at him but Jesse is too busy staring down the man with his hand frozen halfway to his holster-- like a child caught going for the pre-Dinner cookie debating on the merits of trying to snatch something and get away with it.

    Jesse cocks back the trigger with his thumb, makes sure the thug can see him do it. "Well, what about it big guy-- you feelin' lucky tonight?" He's thankful, for every inch of his just over six foot frame, for every pound of muscle and fat that makes him broad and solid and damned scary looking in the right light. The guy pales and his eyes dart toward his friend, the only smart choice Jesse was going to give him.

    "See now that's the first good choice you've probably made all evening." Jesse says, smile curling wider, faux sugar in his tone, but that doesn't take the venom or anger out of it, just makes it more dangerous.

    "Now git! Before I decide to put one in your butt cheek just for fun." They jump at the raised bark of his voice, helping their friend up who cries out in pain as they try to hurrying him along, barely able to hobble in the sand using his two buddies as crutches. Jesse keeps his gaze on them just long enough to know they aren't gonna try anything stupid before he's gently un-cocking the trigger on Peacekeeper, spinning her once on his trigger finger before putting her back in her holster, comforting heavy weight on his hip, against his thigh.

    He's crouching down in the sand at the woman's side in a moment, voice gone softer now, not all hard and sharp edges. "Don't you worry, ma'am. Sorry you had to see that but I ain't gonna hurt you none." He says hoping he didn't give her too bad of a fright.

    Though she's the one who ends up giving him one when she turns her tear-stained face, and Jesse finally gets a good look at her. It's been years since Jesse has seen Dr. Angela Ziegler but-- he's not the type to forget the woman he did three surgeries on him and saved his life back when he'd lost half his left arm.

    "Angie, darlin'-- ain't you a sight for my sore ol' sinner's eyes." He reached up with his mechanical fingers, gently flicking the brim of the hat up to get a better look at her.
     
    Angela Ziegler likes this.
  3. Angela Ziegler

    Angela Ziegler Overwatch

    Posts:
    144
    Gender:
    Female
    Occupation:
    Field Medic/First Responder
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    37
    Alignment:
    Neutral Good
    Angela was waiting... Waiting for the blow to her back that just didn't seem to want to come. God everything was unfair. Did she have to wait in line now to meet her end as well? Figures. But it just didn't happen, and instead she was left crying out softly at the sound of a gun going off. She'd jerked as well, a natural reaction to eh obnoxiously loud sound but this one, this gunshot seemed to have a certain ping to it that was very familiar. Footsteps, someone was walking closer and as she let her greying eyes glance up she'd only managed to see a familiar pair of boots, the need to look up further just too much for her to deal with considering what little energy she had.

    If the gunshot was familiar, than that accent that followed sure as well was one she could pinpoint anywhere. Jesse McCree. What was he doing here? In Cascade Bay as well as Pandora? He must have been dragged in too she thought, and whilst she'd tried to push herself up to plea for him not to carry out any of the threats he'd promised on, she was merely too injured and weak to do so. Angela could hear the thugs rushing off with the injured one whining about the pain, and even then, for a moment, she considered healing him. She didn't think her saviour would be all too happy about it.

    Still unsure if she was daydreaming or not, Angela had barely moved from her face-down position against the sand, though a small smile did tug at the corner of her lips. If this was who she saw last before she died then... well, it wasn't so bad.
    "Jesse McCree... Jesse I'd like to say its good to see you too but I w-wish it could have been on better circumstances." The blonde had mumbled, coughing before she tried pushing herself up, managing to get on her knees but she seemed just about read to topple over whenever she'd try move up onto her feet.

    Raising her hand to her mouth, she wiped the back of it against the left corner of her lower lip, split from where the man's shoe from before had caught the softer flesh. She looked a mess, crestfallen was perhaps the best way to describe her current state for it was surely how she felt and more.
    "A little help would be tremendous once you're done remembering how pretty I was." Angela prompted, hoping the man would remember or see that she was in need of help. It was funny really, how the healer was finally asking someone else for some help, not too much though. This was Angela after all.
     
    Jesse McCree likes this.
  4. Jesse McCree

    Jesse McCree Overwatch

    Posts:
    21
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Bounty Hunter/Gunslinger
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    36
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Good


    Jesse watches the men hobble off until he’s sure they’re not about to try anything stupid again, part of him-- the darker harsher part is whispering he should have given the creep one in the head instead of one to the leg but, that’s the sort of temptation he tries to resist when he can. Killing was, in his view, a necessary part of the job but it would always be messy and ugly and a little bit unsatisfying at times. Some people deserved more retribution than a clean instant death they didn’t see coming, they’d earned worse than a neat bullet between the eyes but Jesse would give them that anyway. Anything to prove he wasn’t one of those monsters anymore, those who fed off the suffering of other people.

    He’d have probably be harsher had he realized the identity of the woman he’d been defending before now. Not that he wouldn’t have jumped in to defend a stranger but-- Angie was a friend. Angela was a good person and somebody for whom Jesse owed a debt to. He flexes the fingers on his left hand with a quiet whir of machinery, an unconscious gesture when he remembers all the work and surgeries she did to save his life and to replace his arm and hand with the prosthetic he wears now. Jesse defends his friends, with harshness and no quarter given-- defends them like a man who knows how much it hurts to lose em.

    Jesse’s smile goes soft and fond at her words, he too wished the reunion were a happier occasion but-- he’d be a fool to not see that his timing was opportune. If he hadn’t been here well--- that was a situation better not to think about lest he lose his temper. ”Who ever ends up seein’ me under good circumstances? I got a way a showin’ up when there’s trouble about.” Usually he didn’t mind it so much, and in this he’s glad he was here when Angela most needed him to be. Though by the looks of her, she could have stood him showing up a few minutes earlier than he actually did.

    He reaches down when he sees her wobbling trying to get up on her feet, gently holds unto her until she can get back up to something like standing. Though she still looks weak and shaky on her feet. She’s always been a petite woman but now she looks gaunt, shrunken at the edges where she couldn’t afford to lose it. She looks weaken in a way that doesn’t have a thing to do with the fact that she’s gently wiping blood from her split lip.

    ”Ain’t nothin’ past tense about your prettiness, darlin.” He replies warmly, she’d always been beautiful in a way that Jesse had always leaned away from, automatically sensing that she was too good for him anyhow. ”Though you’ve looked better. Nothing some solid home cookin’ and good sleep can’t fix though, I’d wager.”

    Jesse couldn’t help but wonder how Angela had gotten here, how long she’d been here and why exactly her self-care routinely had seemed to have lapsed as much as it had. She’d always been prone to overworking herself, pushing too hard when she felt as though her goal was more important than he petty human needs. Still, he makes the choice to let the subject lie for a moment, sometimes pressing too hard and too fast just got people all clammed up instead, made them talk less instead of more. ”Which way is home for you, lil lady?”

     
    Angela Ziegler likes this.
  5. Angela Ziegler

    Angela Ziegler Overwatch

    Posts:
    144
    Gender:
    Female
    Occupation:
    Field Medic/First Responder
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    37
    Alignment:
    Neutral Good
    The familiar sound of machinery had Angela looking over to the man's mechanical arm, giving a small smile as she was relieved to see it was still functioning just fine after all this time.
    "You also have the uncanny ability of making anyone's day better, Jesse." She reassured, smiling to herself as she did so. A small 'thank you' fell from her lips as the man had helped her up, the man barely a year younger than her but she had always felt a little bit more on the protective side, unable to help herself in all honesty considering how much she'd helped him all those years ago.

    "Sweet talker as always." The doctor responded with a small laugh, her heart swelling with warmth she hadn't felt in so long, in these times she'd been alone and frightened, scared for her own life. But this encounter she definitely hadn't been counting on was quite nice, and more than welcome too as she looked up at Jesse quietly, wishing honestly he could have seen her a few months prior or better yet, later on when she wasn't like... well, this.

    Dusting her hands off a little bit, she paused when Jesse had asked where her home was. Oh great, now she had to show him the shack she'd been living, surviving in. With a small sigh, she motioned to along the beach, finding the young man's hand and giving it a small tug to show she would walk him there.
    "Come come, its this way." Angela lead the man to the shack as promised, giving a small smile before she sheepishly let the both of them in, walking inside before she tried nudging around a few items here and there but there honestly wasn't much she could do about the bare bones kind of feeling it had.

    Definitely no home.

    "When did you arrive? Was your arrival alright?" Angela knew that Pandora didn't exactly care all that much about how you arrived here, just that you did and quickly too. Unable to help herself, shed even begun seeing to her impromptu guest, filling the copper kettle with water and letting it heat over the stove. Despite her own body needing a bit of help considering how it was treated not too long ago, she refused to let that downgrade her manners when catering to an old friend. But her back seemed to be causing her more than a little bit of grief as she had to pause by the small pantry she had, frowning as she stumbled and made a small sound of pain leave her lips as quietly as she could manage.

    Bowing her head, she felt more than a little guilty as she asked Jesse over her shoulder.
    "I apologise, Jesse, but do you think you could take over for me?"