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]

For all of Vasquez's embarrassment, Goodnight didn't seem fazed. "My fault," he assured before steering the other man toward the dressing rooms. "Been here just long enough to forget how it felt to be new. Go on in there, shut the door and try things on. If you need my opinion, I'll be right here."

He could be a gentle man when it occurred to him. He remembered going through all this with Henry, and thinking of the young man made something in him hurt. He missed him.

[quinientos]

Vasquez glances over his shoulder and can't help but feel a little relieved to see where he's being directed, nodding as he takes the clothes and works his leather vest loose, dropping his old clothes in a pile that looks sad and dirty and old. As old as him, really.

Trying on a new pair of jeans and one of the button-down, he finds that everything is familiar, except the denim (which is not something he wears, typically). Grimacing, he heads back outside to give Goodnight a wary look. "I'm not sure about the pants."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight tipped his head, taking in the entire look. He moved closer, lightly tugging at the denim around Vasquez's hips. "Might stand to go a size down, but they seem to fit alright as is. They look good on you. Don't feel right?"

He was trying to suss out what Vasquez didn't like. Could just be that they were new, different.

[quinientos]

"I need to gain weight back," Vasquez counters, about the size, because as much as he's been trying, he still hasn't managed to do that. "Four months in hiding, starving, I'm not as broad as I used to be." Then again, he's always been lanky and slim. Maybe he's going to stay that way, now.

Grimacing as he stares at his reflection in the mirror, he's not sure he likes what he sees, mainly because it's a stranger. "They feel a bit itchy compared to normal, but they look okay. Not used to not being an outlaw," he admits. "Having clothes that aren't just stolen."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Maybe so," he mused. "Might as well stay with the larger size, then, for one you can fill it out."

Goodnight stepped back a bit, looking at Vasquez through the mirror. "The itch'll fade after the first time you wash 'em. Just a new fabric thing, I'm learning. And get used to having clothes that are yours, son. You go around stealing here, you better be damn good at it because there's a much smaller population and there ain't anywhere to run to."

Vasquez would get caught, eventually, especially if he was trying to steal clothes of laundry lines or some nonsense.

[quinientos]

Vasquez snorts as he wiggles the waistband a little in disapproval, not for the pants, but because he hates that he'd lost so much weight on the run. Then, if the choice was between dinner and keeping your head, Vasquez is always going to choose the latter. "I only stole because I couldn't work," he says, his voice even and dark. "Only a bandit because of the bounty."

It's not something he would've chosen. If it were up to him, he'd still be working on that farm, doing odd tasks and keeping his head down. It's not his fault some rangers are putas who deserve to die. "I'm not anyone's son," he adds, belatedly. "Son, lad, everyone treats me like I'm a pup, but I bet I'm barely a half decade younger than you," he counters.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Well, there ain't a bounty on you here. No one cares you were an outlaw back where we came from. There's work to be had if you go looking for it."

Goodnight lifted a brow at the insistence that Vasquez was no one's son. "Oh, you're someone's son, mon bon homme. And I think you will find it is a colloquialism in common use. Ain't a term of derision, it's a term of endearment."

[quinientos]

"I saw a few jobs I could do out in the fields, by the country," he admits, because it might be going back a little, but it's what he knows how to do and it's good and comfortable. It's solitude without having to be on the run and he can come back into the city to see people, have drinks, have some excitement.

At Goodnight's clarification, he stares at his reflection in the mirror before prying off the sweater to leave only the button down, taming his hair. He doesn't say that his father is long dead, that he's no one's son anymore, but if it's affectionate, he'll let it happen. "Same endearment as if I call you old man?" he suggests, because it would be the opposite, no?

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight rolled his eyes. "I won't put you down for it, but I can't guarantee what Billy'll do if he hears you say it," he drawled, a smile tugging his mouth.

Most days, he felt old, even if his life hadn't out-paced Billy's or Vasquez's by that much. War like that wore a man down, hard. He didn't know how Sam had come out on the other side the way he had. Goodnight had been in it since the beginning, though, and had lived to the end. Long enough to see horrors he would never, ever forget.

Ones that followed him into Darrow.

He stepped back a bit, considering Vasquez. "I think it suits you. Maybe doesn't feel right yet, but change always takes a little settling."

[quinientos]

"Maybe I don't call you that, I like my tongue and eyes where they belong," is his wry reply, starting to unbutton the shirt in front of the mirrors with little care, seeing as it's not like there's many people around and he can reach for the next, absently glancing at anything with short-sleeves and knowing he won't be able to wear them without his scar showing.

"It's good change, but it's hard," he admits. "I've met people here from space and the future and one who tells me he's a leprechaun," Vasquez says, with a look on his face that says he's about as intrigued as he is wary and thinking he's gone mad because of it. "On top of this, no more bounty." He tugs on a burgundy long-sleeved henley, giving a surprised sound at how comfortable it is. "I like this one."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Billy practically lives in henleys now that the weather's turned." Goodnight was hardly complaining. He would never complain about seeing a fit man in a fitted shirt. Goodnight had thoroughly embraced them as well, though he did tend to layer more than Billy did these days.

"The jeans, especially, will soften up some once you've washed them and worn them in a bit. You should look for layers, not sure how winter is gonna be around here but if we're vaguely on the latitude I think we're on, could be real cold and get snowy."

[quinientos]

"Do they have proper vests or sweaters?" This is what he hasn't seen, nothing of the quality leather and stitching and embroidery that his clothes from home have. He keeps running his fingers over the jeans, then the shirt, and the fabric again. "If you wanted to wear something nice for something, what would you pick?"

He's kept the question casual and uncaring, mainly because it is a broader question, but if he so happens to use that advice soon, then maybe it's not such a bad thing.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight lifted his eyebrows. "Well that would depend entirely on where I was going, and with whom. Care to shed light on either of those points?"

He was a gossip at heart, and if Vasquez had gained any kind of social life that required something nice to wear, Goodnight was thoroughly intrigued.

[quinientos]

It's not very hard to see that Goodnight wants to know more than he ought to, but Vasquez also does need his help, so as much as he wants to give no answer, he probably needs to, if he wants his advice. "Probably a bar," he says. "No one in particular, really," he says, which is only a little bit of a lie because he hasn't seen a text come in, just a promise made.

"But I can't imagine people go out and impress anyone with the things I wore back home, all bloody and torn," he says. Staring at himself in the mirror, he turns this way and that. "If you're drinking with someone, you should make an effort."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"I would tend to agree," he said of making an effort. "Alright, wait here. Go put on one of those button ups again... something with color. Red might do you well."

Goodnight wandered off to find a few things. He came back with two vests - one in grey and one in black - and a few ties draped over his shoulder. "Here, put this on," he said, handing over the black vest. "Make sure the shirt's tucked in."

It was an easy way to class up a look, he found, especially given trends in Darrow.

[quinientos]

Vasquez stares warily at the tie, maybe because he's still having nightmares about nooses, but it does look very good with the vest that Goodnight has brought. Stripping off the shirt and putting on the burgundy one, he's in the middle of buttoning it up and tucking the shirt in, grumbling about that part (so much easier to just let it go loose).

He glances at himself in the mirror as he's tucking in, chortling to himself as he can already tell that it will paint a very nice picture. He's definitely going to get laid if he wears something like this, but it does look like he's trying too hard.

Reaching for the vest, he starts to slide it on, eyeing the ties warily. "I don't know how to do those. I only ever used bolos, before."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Hold still, I'll do it up for you so you can see how it looks, then I'll give you a lesson."

Goodnight made sure Vasquez's vest was all done up and then popped up the collar of his shirt. He'd chosen a black tie with burgundy detailing, thinking Vasquez might appreciate that. He tied it expertly, careful not to tighten it until the end. He flipped the collar of the shirt back down and then stepped out of the way so Vasquez could see himself in the mirror.

[quinientos]

It's something awkward to let another man dress up, wary about the tie. He lifts up his chin, but acts more like he's on his way to see an executioner and not to be dressed. When Goodnight is finished, Vasquez looks at himself in the mirror, a low whistle of approval at the line he cuts (he may be half-starved because of the bounty, but it looks good on him, apparently).

The trouble is, it also looks like he's trying very, very hard. "If I show up in this, I'm going to look desperate," is all he notes, even if he likes the way it looks especially the vest. "Maybe I will save this for something fancier. I think maybe more casual, for drinks?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Hm... Well, that's an easy change."

Goodnight expertly undid the tie and tossed it over his shoulder, then promptly undid the top few buttons of Vasquez's shirt. "Roll those sleeves up to your elbows - but do it neatly. This ain't work you're gettin' ready for."

It would make the look more casual, but it would keep the silhouette the vest created.

[quinientos]

Vasquez does as he's instructed, but what interests him the most is something sitting off to the side. He gestures to it, nodding to a sweater that looks incredibly soft. "What about that?" he asks, though he likes what he sees in the mirror, feeling like this goes back to who he is, properly, but in modern clothes.

That sweater looks incredibly soft, though, like he can tug it down over his wrists to create the length the other shirt had. "You like this, don't you?" he asks, with no heat, because he is grateful for it.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Son, I was as much of a dandy as I could get away with before the war," he said with a wry smile. "Course I enjoy this."

Goodnight picked up the cardigan. "Here, try it without the vest, see how you like it. I've got a few like it at home." Not just like it, but similar things. "Also, I don't know if you noticed how much I tried to take care of myself and Billy despite spending so much time in the middle of nowhere."

The pair of them had gotten barbered every chance they had, and though their clothes were practical, they had been in good shape and well-tailored.

[quinientos]

Vasquez snorts at the self-proclamation of being a dandy, because that's not the sort of thing that you admit, as far as Vasquez is concerned. Shaking his head, he reaches over and keeps on a long-sleeved white shirt, pulling on the cardigan.

Humming, he thinks that it looks casual and decent for the colder places inside, not sure why everyone chills it so much. He misses the heat on his skin. "I noticed," he promises. "Didn't mind," he guarantees. "I have lots of respect for men who care for themselves like this."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"You'd be amazed the people that take issue with it," he drawled. "Or maybe you wouldn't."

Once most people heard his name, the trouble tended to back off without Goodnight having to do too much. There was something to be said for having a reputation, even if it was one that he wasn't necessarily proud of.

[quinientos]

"People take issue with me doing something like that, they got shot in the face," Vasquez says flatly, which might be an exaggeration (he'd shoot the shoulder, first off), but it's not far off the mark. "Dressing nicely, being with someone I choose."

He's not stupid enough, of course, to go flaunting it or asking the wrong people, but still, it's what he thinks.

"People really take issue with you? With what you did, what Billy can do?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"People might settle down if they hear my name, but that depends on them hearing it to start with." Goodnight shrugged. He and Billy watched their backs, they were careful, and they tried not to stir up trouble.

"Besides... anything ever went down, I know the difference between what might happen to me and what might happen to Billy."

[quinientos]

Vasquez knows all too well what that's like, so the sober sound he makes is one that's appreciative of the bad situation. "I know what it is, to run," he says. "I know you do, too, both of you." He heads back into the stall to start changing clothes, staring at the rest of the things and hoping they'll fit as he tugs on his bloodstained shirt one more time.

Stepping out, he gives Goodnight an appreciative nod. "Now, you have me to help, too," he says, off-hand. "I could use something to shoot, every once in a while."

[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?"