goodnight

[quinientos]

When Vasquez's shirt rips at the seams on his third attempt to wash it, he decides this is a sign from God that he can't keep washing and wearing the same clothes just because of how strong his nostalgia is. He's got money and he needs new clothes. The thought of charging into one of the many stores makes him scowl and very unhappy, which means that he needs help. Better, he needs help from someone who understands exactly what he's going through.

He manages to stitch his shirt back together enough that it's wearable (it's still bloodstained, so maybe it's not in such good taste) and heads for where Goodnight and Billy live after sending a warning message that he's coming (with plenty of typos, because he's not used to it yet). He hates this idea of becoming some modern looking ass like the rest of the men here, but there seem to be enough flashy sets of things he likes in passing that he wouldn't mind, like the vests knit of fabric and shirts like his linen ones.

It's time for Vasquez to face the future, but not without some help. He texts Goodnight that he's there, outside, and then, he lights up a smoke because he already knows that no one else will let him do this once he's in public. What a stupid future, really, that won't let you do such things.

Comments

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"You might have to talk to Billy for that one. I don't shoot anymore."

Goodnight had been to the gun range a handful of times, usually so that he and Billy could walk home together after Billy had finished his required range time. He had thought about trying his hand, told himself it was good to stay in practice, but... he'd spent so much time shooting for so many years, he doubted he would ever lose the muscle memory. But he had long since lost the will. Rose Creek had been an exception, and he had even tried to walk away from that, too.

[quinientos]

"Not even a can?" It sounds strange, but if Goodnight doesn't want to hit targets, then more for him. Vasquez isn't going to step into that pile of danger, so he says nothing, heading back into the small little stall so he can change out of his things, draping them on the door. "Do you want me to try anything else on before I put my clothes back on?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"You could possibly talk me into it," he said. Goodnight wondered how he'd handle the sound of gunfire; he heard it so rarely in Darrow, he wasn't sure if it dulled or heightened his sensitivity. He supposed there was really only one way to find out. "It'd have to be outside somewhere. Not the indoor range where Billy practices."

He had not set foot in there, and he never planned to. Exposing himself to an enclosed space with repeating rounds of gunfire did not sound like the foundation of a good day. Whenever he met Billy there, he waited outside.

"You know, you could probably pick some things you like, put 'em on, and let whoever rings us up take the tags off once they're done," he mused. "Especially if you explain you've only got the clothes you showed up in."

[quinientos]

Vasquez waves a hand at the idea of wearing it out. "No, it's okay. I don't want to throw them away, they're still my clothes." The ones he wore through everything, which means that they mean something more to him, but at the same time, he doesn't see the need to go out with a ripped shirt covered in blood. He heads into the changeroom and is quick to get back into his old gear.

When he comes out, though, he's got a pile of new clothes in his arms.

"Fine, outside, yes," he says, with little care where they shoot. "If you don't want to do guns, I could show you the lasso?"