[He is indeed the son of a bitch! How did you know, Wolfwood?
Ain is not sure that these men know he's a man. He's not sure that he cares, either. They're drunk, they're not throwing tomatoes at him, it's a good day. The more money they throw into the hat at his feet, the better off he is for the foreseeable future. As Wolfwood is coming in and heading toward the bar, one of the drunks tries to climb onto the stage (without, you know, taking the conveniently placed stairs some two feet away), and Ain quite literally hikes the green silk of his skirt up and shoves a boot into the man's shoulder.]
Ah-ah! Sweet little boys have to stay in their places.
[There is... an energy about this, surely. His tone definitely says "whore". His wanted posters that he rips off the wall every day say "whore who swindles". The way he looks at Wolfwood across the way simply says target acquired. There are lots of men who walk into saloons with their shirt collars popped and their chests exposed, of course, but Ain is a creature of habit. This is where his eyes go first, and he is not shy about this.
He takes a good, long look. His gaydar reads "closet". God, he loves those ones. It's like the boss of that gang that he rode—
Ain's voice raises above the din of the bar, carrying lightly across the open space so he can address the newcomer properly.]
What sort of songs does the new pretty face want to hear? Are you more of a "grand journey to the east" type, a sad love songs type, or a "get plastered and fuck" type?
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-05-03 03:56 am (UTC)Ain is not sure that these men know he's a man. He's not sure that he cares, either. They're drunk, they're not throwing tomatoes at him, it's a good day. The more money they throw into the hat at his feet, the better off he is for the foreseeable future. As Wolfwood is coming in and heading toward the bar, one of the drunks tries to climb onto the stage (without, you know, taking the conveniently placed stairs some two feet away), and Ain quite literally hikes the green silk of his skirt up and shoves a boot into the man's shoulder.]
Ah-ah! Sweet little boys have to stay in their places.
[There is... an energy about this, surely. His tone definitely says "whore". His wanted posters that he rips off the wall every day say "whore who swindles". The way he looks at Wolfwood across the way simply says target acquired. There are lots of men who walk into saloons with their shirt collars popped and their chests exposed, of course, but Ain is a creature of habit. This is where his eyes go first, and he is not shy about this.
He takes a good, long look. His gaydar reads "closet". God, he loves those ones. It's like the boss of that gang that he rode—
Ain's voice raises above the din of the bar, carrying lightly across the open space so he can address the newcomer properly.]
What sort of songs does the new pretty face want to hear? Are you more of a "grand journey to the east" type, a sad love songs type, or a "get plastered and fuck" type?