[ as boothill talks, sunday begins to realize he's never seen the views being described. of course, he's been out in the wilderness, stayed in rural areas—but did he ever sit and look at the sunset? he's always been too focused on his plans, on his family, on the future to ever look around during those moments. and where did it get him?
he stares off in the distance with a contemplative hum. ]
Perhaps I've always taken such sights for granted. I may have to burden you for a scenic tour.
[ it takes him a second too long to realize that the horse they've approached is meant to be their ride. or a pack mule? he blinks at the horse as though it might give an answer, but it doesn't even glance his way. ]
Ride? Ah, [ he understands with an apologetic smile, ] I'm afraid not. I wouldn't say it's practical in my line of work.
[ his eyes flicker between boothill and the horse, still uncertain if they're actually going to ride this. ] Can it truly... hold the both of us?
[ that’s what plenty of folks do, he supposes. take things for granted. he was a bit the same before everything happened and he wholly regrets not appreciating it more. naw, it won’t be any burden to show sunday some of the best sights. boothill is lookin’ forward to it already, which is saying something considering he doesn’t even know sunday.
he huffs, cutting off a puff of laughter at the polite concern, the corner of his mouth staying picked up in amusement. ]
I’m sure he’s mighty thankful for the concern, but he ain’t some delicate little show pony, [ another fond, pat to the horse’s shoulder, his hand lingering to rub.] Long as we’re not askin’ too much, oh yeah, sure, he can handle us here to home.
[ all he’s got on the farm are working horses, mostly just good ol’ quarter horses. a different breed from this boy here and sunday’ll see the difference later, the sturdy, thick bones on this one compared to the cow horses. would have been easy to bring another horse but he had an inkling sunday wouldn’t necessarily know his way around a horse.
he sets the luggage by their feet for a moment and grips the stirrup on their side, positioning it and demonstrating — ]
Now, angel, you put a foot here and grip onto the saddle and I’ll give you a hand up.
[ well, boothill is the expert. sunday doesn't doubt him, but there's a certain anxiety he feels about getting on a creature like this for the first time. maintaining composure and order in public is deeply ingrained into him but the literal reins won't be in his hands for this.
sunday's hesitation is interrupted by the little petname boothill offers, naturally sliding it into his sentence. is it meant to be a petname? an insult? it's awfully familiar, but they are practically engaged—
his cheeks warm slightly and he decides he should simply follow the instructions, his concerns shoved aside. ]
Of course. I trust you won't let me fall. [ he says it like a joke but he is putting a quite a bit of faith in boothill. it ends up being simpler than it looks, the horse remaining perfectly steady as sunday lifts himself with a foot, holding onto the saddle as instructed.
still, he reaches his other hand out to boothill for support and breathes a sigh of relief once he's seated on the horse. ]
Oh, I won’t, [ boothill had assured easy as pie when sunday had mentioned trusting him not to let him fall. sunday couldn’t know it, but he doesn’t have a single reason to fear. boothill’s helped more kids than he can count up on horses, kids more clumsy and wriggly than sunday is, and he wouldn’t have brought a horse he couldn’t trust to tolerate a little foolery.
boothill helps bust him up and stay steady in the stirrups so he can swing his other leg around. sunday, for all his lackin’ know-how, is graceful enough to find his seat easier than most. ]
Pretty much. Lot easier to chase down cows up here. [ noticing the relieved sigh, boothill can’t help but tease, finding himself grinning, ] What’s that sighin’ for? You got the whole ride ahead of you.
[ not that riding will be any worse than getting up — boothill wouldn’t let anything happen to some nice guy that came all the way out here for… hell, him. he doesn’t doubt there’s some other motivating factors there, but at the end of the day, it’s gonna boil down to the two of them sharing a life. whatever ghosts sunday’s got, boothill’s ready for it.
he takes a moment to unhitch their horse before fastening up sunday’s luggage to the saddle straps. then he’s asking sunday to scoot back a bit, before he puts a foot in the stirrup and grabs the saddle horn and hoists himself up, taking a bit more care to settle with sunday there. ] You ready? I won’t tell nobody if you wanna hold on.
[ boothill is surprisingly gentle with his guidance, neither rushing nor exasperated by this inexperienced city boy. it's enough to make him feel... safe, for the moment. even if boothill teases that sigh as soon as it escapes. ]
I assumed you weren't planning on performing any tricks during the ride home, [ he says simply, the light smile in his voice the only indication that he may be teasing back.
and hold on he does. there's only a slight hesitation as he finds where to place his hands, gripping boothill's waist softly before settling them lower down. he shifts forward, nervous about being too far back on the horse, until his hips slot against boothill's back. perhaps a little too close, but he doesn't want to push back and go tumbling down. ]
Yes, I'm ready. Is it like this? [ he asks just in case, tilting his head to the side so he doesn't get a mouthful of boothill's long hair. his grip only tightens as they start to move, still not quite comfortable. ]
I think... a full suit may not be the appropriate attire for horse riding. [ it's not helping any, that's for certain. he furrows his brow as he tries to remember if he has anything in his wardrobe suitable for this. ]
Would you believe that I didn't bring anything less formal?
[ sunday takes his urging to heart and his arms are around boothill in a moment. it’s real sweet, the way he scoots forward, pressed up against him. it’s a long fall down, boothill sure can’t fault him for that. not a time he’s been thrown has it ever been a gentle landing, but it’s been a long time.
admittedly, mostly his fault when it’s happen. no temperamental stallion or half started colt, no wild riding to give their mount a startle.
boothill’s on his best behavior. he still doesn’t tell sunday he could hold on a little looser. ]
That’s just perfect, you hold on tight now, [ he says instead, reins in hand and a little heel pressure getting them going. sunday’ll figure out soon enough that he’s safe and he’ll relax on his own. this old boy moseys on and other than the steady rock from the motion, it ain’t nothing at all.
doesn’t stop the shocked bark of laughter when sunday brings up his suit situation. boothill turns his head quick to look back at him, disbelief and amusement all over his face. fortunately, his hair goes swinging the opposite way of sunday’s face. ] No chance, you’re pulling my leg! Nothin’ else?
[ the exact fucking opposite of boothill, who doesn’t think he has a full suit that even fits. he really does wonder what kind of life sunday was living to have a wardrobe of nothing but suits but — he guesses that’s a proper thing to wear, working in a church. sunday best and all. ] You do look awful nice in ‘em. Now, I — I look something ridiculous in a suit…
[ the movement of the horse isn't all that jarring, surprisingly. they aren't speeding along, but it's a brisk pace that he eases into. but even as he relaxes against boothill's back, his hold remains tight, even a little stiff. not being the one in control is... a difficult thing to accept.
his shoulders bunch at the loud laughter whipped into his face by the wind. it's not as though he can blame boothill for finding it amusing, though. ] Well... that and sleepwear, of course. Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to shop for something more suitable to a ranch. I hoped there would be something available in town...
[ though he's barely seen any buildings at all in their trek. he recalls the last town he saw on the train was several stops back, but there must be something closer to boothill's ranch.
the compliment settles some anxiety in his chest, and he hums at boothill's self-conscious admission. ]
Oh? I doubt that's the case. [ he says with a smile, endeared. ] I find suits flattering on most people, but the key is to have them fitted properly. Anyone would look ridiculous in an ill-fitting suit.
[ there's a certain dread in his voice, like an ill-fitting suit is a common nightmare for him. ] Most tailors can handle that for you, though I've picked up some skills in case of emergencies. I can make sure your suit is fitted before the next church service, if you'll allow me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he stares off in the distance with a contemplative hum. ]
Perhaps I've always taken such sights for granted. I may have to burden you for a scenic tour.
[ it takes him a second too long to realize that the horse they've approached is meant to be their ride. or a pack mule? he blinks at the horse as though it might give an answer, but it doesn't even glance his way. ]
Ride? Ah, [ he understands with an apologetic smile, ] I'm afraid not. I wouldn't say it's practical in my line of work.
[ his eyes flicker between boothill and the horse, still uncertain if they're actually going to ride this. ] Can it truly... hold the both of us?
no subject
he huffs, cutting off a puff of laughter at the polite concern, the corner of his mouth staying picked up in amusement. ]
I’m sure he’s mighty thankful for the concern, but he ain’t some delicate little show pony, [ another fond, pat to the horse’s shoulder, his hand lingering to rub.] Long as we’re not askin’ too much, oh yeah, sure, he can handle us here to home.
[ all he’s got on the farm are working horses, mostly just good ol’ quarter horses. a different breed from this boy here and sunday’ll see the difference later, the sturdy, thick bones on this one compared to the cow horses. would have been easy to bring another horse but he had an inkling sunday wouldn’t necessarily know his way around a horse.
he sets the luggage by their feet for a moment and grips the stirrup on their side, positioning it and demonstrating — ]
Now, angel, you put a foot here and grip onto the saddle and I’ll give you a hand up.
no subject
sunday's hesitation is interrupted by the little petname boothill offers, naturally sliding it into his sentence. is it meant to be a petname? an insult? it's awfully familiar, but they are practically engaged—
his cheeks warm slightly and he decides he should simply follow the instructions, his concerns shoved aside. ]
Of course. I trust you won't let me fall. [ he says it like a joke but he is putting a quite a bit of faith in boothill. it ends up being simpler than it looks, the horse remaining perfectly steady as sunday lifts himself with a foot, holding onto the saddle as instructed.
still, he reaches his other hand out to boothill for support and breathes a sigh of relief once he's seated on the horse. ]
Is this how you travel everywhere?
no subject
boothill helps bust him up and stay steady in the stirrups so he can swing his other leg around. sunday, for all his lackin’ know-how, is graceful enough to find his seat easier than most. ]
Pretty much. Lot easier to chase down cows up here. [ noticing the relieved sigh, boothill can’t help but tease, finding himself grinning, ] What’s that sighin’ for? You got the whole ride ahead of you.
[ not that riding will be any worse than getting up — boothill wouldn’t let anything happen to some nice guy that came all the way out here for… hell, him. he doesn’t doubt there’s some other motivating factors there, but at the end of the day, it’s gonna boil down to the two of them sharing a life. whatever ghosts sunday’s got, boothill’s ready for it.
he takes a moment to unhitch their horse before fastening up sunday’s luggage to the saddle straps. then he’s asking sunday to scoot back a bit, before he puts a foot in the stirrup and grabs the saddle horn and hoists himself up, taking a bit more care to settle with sunday there. ] You ready? I won’t tell nobody if you wanna hold on.
no subject
I assumed you weren't planning on performing any tricks during the ride home, [ he says simply, the light smile in his voice the only indication that he may be teasing back.
and hold on he does. there's only a slight hesitation as he finds where to place his hands, gripping boothill's waist softly before settling them lower down. he shifts forward, nervous about being too far back on the horse, until his hips slot against boothill's back. perhaps a little too close, but he doesn't want to push back and go tumbling down. ]
Yes, I'm ready. Is it like this? [ he asks just in case, tilting his head to the side so he doesn't get a mouthful of boothill's long hair. his grip only tightens as they start to move, still not quite comfortable. ]
I think... a full suit may not be the appropriate attire for horse riding. [ it's not helping any, that's for certain. he furrows his brow as he tries to remember if he has anything in his wardrobe suitable for this. ]
Would you believe that I didn't bring anything less formal?
no subject
admittedly, mostly his fault when it’s happen. no temperamental stallion or half started colt, no wild riding to give their mount a startle.
boothill’s on his best behavior. he still doesn’t tell sunday he could hold on a little looser. ]
That’s just perfect, you hold on tight now, [ he says instead, reins in hand and a little heel pressure getting them going. sunday’ll figure out soon enough that he’s safe and he’ll relax on his own. this old boy moseys on and other than the steady rock from the motion, it ain’t nothing at all.
doesn’t stop the shocked bark of laughter when sunday brings up his suit situation. boothill turns his head quick to look back at him, disbelief and amusement all over his face. fortunately, his hair goes swinging the opposite way of sunday’s face. ] No chance, you’re pulling my leg! Nothin’ else?
[ the exact fucking opposite of boothill, who doesn’t think he has a full suit that even fits. he really does wonder what kind of life sunday was living to have a wardrobe of nothing but suits but — he guesses that’s a proper thing to wear, working in a church. sunday best and all. ] You do look awful nice in ‘em. Now, I — I look something ridiculous in a suit…
no subject
his shoulders bunch at the loud laughter whipped into his face by the wind. it's not as though he can blame boothill for finding it amusing, though. ] Well... that and sleepwear, of course. Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to shop for something more suitable to a ranch. I hoped there would be something available in town...
[ though he's barely seen any buildings at all in their trek. he recalls the last town he saw on the train was several stops back, but there must be something closer to boothill's ranch.
the compliment settles some anxiety in his chest, and he hums at boothill's self-conscious admission. ]
Oh? I doubt that's the case. [ he says with a smile, endeared. ] I find suits flattering on most people, but the key is to have them fitted properly. Anyone would look ridiculous in an ill-fitting suit.
[ there's a certain dread in his voice, like an ill-fitting suit is a common nightmare for him. ] Most tailors can handle that for you, though I've picked up some skills in case of emergencies. I can make sure your suit is fitted before the next church service, if you'll allow me.