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The Burned Handler
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I used to be a handler like you, then I turned into a horse.
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"I'll be there."

Roderick watched her go, and by the look she shot him before walking off and the way she walked he suspected she intended him to do just that, then turned to make his own way through the party. Music droned on and the smell of stale beer danced around him, someone called to him and asked where he was off to but he waved them off and claimed to need a bit of fresh air. Not entirely false, that.

He ignored drunken revelling and a Cochise baseball player making out with some blonde on the sofa. Half-trashed seniors tossed darts at a board with teachers' pictures taped to it, a beer pong game earned a second look only because Roderick was surprised that was actually a thing, and awkward dancers shuffled away just as awkwardly when he moved right through their midst. None of them mattered right now. The world was his footsteps inaudible over the music, and his single-minded march to the door, slowed only when a couple nervously shouldered past him to slip through the exit first.

They left the door open for him and he relaxed a little the moment he was past the threshold, closing the door behind himself and taking a deep breath of crisp air. Kingman was still the desert, but it could get a refreshing chill in the late hours. Shoes crunched wet grass underfoot as he cut through the lawn to get to his car, parked just by the driveway like he said. The white paint seemed to gleam in the moonlight. Pitbull faded away while he took a seat on the bonnet, feeling the car shift just a little with the sudden weight, and looked down to Kingman.

This house was a little towards the edge of town and looked down on the "city" from a hill, a winding road leading towards the lights and sounds of what nightlife this place had. He'd spent enough evenings driving around just to drive around that he could probably get onto West Beale Street or Ella's Place within five minutes, then just coast by Locomotive Park or the Mohave Museum and there they were. Easy enough, especially with what little traffic he'd find, and with his route already taken care of he could just relax under the stars and wait, visualising the coming outing with Nadia as best he could.

The couple who'd cut past him had slipped into a car parked a little down the way from his, and he heard it begin rocking back and forth. He did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice.
MurderWeasel getting impatient
Hiya, jerk! Please don't post until edits have been completed, as doing so causes confusion/messes up the queue.

18:48 Ruggawork I have faith in you!
18:48 Ruggawork and your ass!

16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Iktor?
16:35 Kilmarnock Maybe Toben.
16:35 Kilmarnock hard to tell until they make out with me.
16:35 *** mib_6brm7d is now known as Irene

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Ceremony · Memories from the Past