psl au - for nothingtoknives

[quinientos]

There's been something strange happening in the barn the last few days that he can't exactly put his finger on. When he goes in the morning, things are in places he didn't leave them and he's sure that the animals are more unsettled than before. It's not enough for Vasquez to go to the owners about, because while they pay him to operate the farm and work the land, they also don't want to be bothered until he's sure and right now, he's not.

After all, it could just be some wild animal getting loose into the barn at night. He sets up a plan, though, and makes sure that instead of falling asleep with a cigarette and a stomach warmed through with alcohol, he's staying up in order to be in the barn near midnight to see what it is that's causing such a change in things. He's hoping that he's not going to find anything, if he's honest, but there's just too many small things to have nothing be at work.

Cautiously, he approaches the barn (not wearing his spurs, not tonight), and gives the door a gentle nudge. It's quiet, so if it is a wild animal, it hasn't spooked the creatures. If it's a person...well, in that case, Vasquez has to be extra careful, but he needs to resolve this before the owners start to notice and they start to blame Vasquez for doing a poor job.

Comments

[nothingtoknives]

Only by moonlight is the man working. Stealing a few things here and there, having to nurse his wounds from two weeks prior. That damn bounty hunter had managed to lodge a bullet in his side, and the convalescence was a damn pain in the ass. The longer he sits in one place, the faster someone can find him.

Which is why he's been trying his best to repair his injuries. Stolen a few bottles of liquor to wash the wound, clean shirts to rip into bandages. Food, when he can risk it.

He doesn't see the door open, too busy trying to hush the horses softly in his native language, hearing them whickering slightly at his approach. Come on, ain't nothing, he just needs a little water from one of their buckets to wash his face. And sober up a little.

[quinientos]

Vasquez hears another voice. Hand tightly fixed on his gun-belt, he wanders inside a little more to see if he can find out what's happening or who it is, because he doesn't recognize any of the words even though it's definitely a human's voice and not that of a horse.

Squinting in the darkness, he doesn't get out his gun, but instead goes for his lasso. If he needs to restrain the man he sees, then he'll do it, but for now, he's just being ready. "That water I put out isn't for you," Vasquez says, sharp and loud, intended to get the man's attention and to try and stop him from stealing from his employer.

[nothingtoknives]

Billy whips his head around when another man speaks. Eyes narrowing with distrust as he reaches for the knife on his belt. A butcher's knife, not for throwing, but for stabbing- and he isn't sure he can make the distance between them in the time it would take for the gun to fire.

"Back off." He slurs. Between the drinks and his natural accent, he's having some trouble with his English.
"Won't have to kill you."

[quinientos]

Vasquez raises his brow when the stranger threatens to kill him. The way he's speaking, Vasquez thinks that the only thing that's going to die is the man's ability to stay vertical, if he's as drunk as he sounds. Warily, he does put a wooden beam somewhat between them so that he can keep behind it, seeing the glint of the knife. "You're on my employer's property," Vasquez retorts, with the disbelief that he's the one who needs to back off.

"I could shoot you for trespassing, you know," he says, but his hand is nowhere near his gun. He might be reaching for some of the rope he's hung on the beam, but it's just in case he needs to get that knife out of the man's hand.

[nothingtoknives]

"Back. Off." The knife is spun in his hand, thrown at the stranger to show he means business. Burying itself in the wooden beam between them, right where Vasquez's head would be.
After the movement, there's a hiss of pain, and he digs his fingers into his side where the bullet is still lodged in his flesh. his hands are shaking- trying to push himself to pick up his other knife to defend himself.

He swears in Korean, trying to swallow down the pain even as he points his knife at the stranger.
"Beat your bullet."

[quinientos]

Vasquez doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. His hands do jump a little, closer to his gun belt, but that ends when he hears the hiss. Still taking no chances, Vasquez reaches for his lasso and lifts it up between them. "Don't make me hogtie you," is all he says evenly, but he's approaching cautiously.

"You're hurt," he states the obvious. "You should let me look at it before you kill yourself."

[nothingtoknives]

"Don't need your help-" A damn lie, evident by the scent of blood as the wound blooms open again, soaking through blood-stained shirt and jacket once again. His hand comes away red and wet in the moonlight, and he swears in Korean once again.

He might- MIGHT- let the stranger draw closer, if only because his hands are shaking too much for him to throw his knife.

[quinientos]

Vasquez scoffs with little more than a huff of breath. "You don't need my help? Well, maybe I don't want to scrape up a dead body in the morning, because you might look small, but I think maybe you're heavier than you look," he says critically, given that he doesn't exactly look easy to push.

"I'm not going to try and hurt you, I just want to help," he says, taking another step forward, pushing his luck.