noteasytobepink | Wheelsy AU ~ Tire changing

"You're welcome." He'd take things as he wanted to take things really. If she was lucky he didn't boot her out of the house for thinking he was cute!

SHE WOULDN'T MOLEST WITHOUT INVITATION! HONEST!

"Sure, I won't run table on break." She lined up, shot, and sunk three on break. She went with stripes, sunk one more then flubbed the next. So, she was three down...

His worry was more about overstepping himself, really. He liked her (maybe a lot), and had already proven how terrible his perception was in situations like this. The last thing he needed was to put himself out there again and get another kick in the teeth.

He stood by and watched, a bit nervous about his chances but not showing it.

Accessing the table, he downed his shot of whiskey and stepped up to play.

"You play a lot, I take it."

She was an honest and upfront person! If she got uncomfortable she'd tell him! What she actually wanted to do some nights though was far from uncomfortable, so...

And that smile? That was a very predatory smile. "Not at all Bill. Think about it...I am a trained fighter who relies, immensely, on angles. Pool balls are a lot bigger than small sticks when I'm throwing and tossing!" She was totally going to get him the money to repair his truck tires. Yep.

"I guess that means I'm in trouble, 'less I find someone for you to play against."

He laughed and took his shot, sinking one ball and lining up another.

One more solid fell and he missed the third.

Stepping back from the table, he lifted his beer.

"I ain't too bad myself, though. Let me get through a few of these an' I get better." He lifted his pint, and took a healthy gulp.

"We can find opponents in a bit, for now let's keep things friendly hmmm?" Because she was a whole different creature when she was competing. Competing was like fighting after all.

Three more then she scratched and came around to offer him the cue ball. "Too many of those, Sheriff, and we'll be floating you home. Are you sure that's not a pitcher?" She teased, holding onto the cue so he'd have to tug it away.

"Friendly is good." Because he wasn't dumb enough to bet her anything after seeing her shoot.

Another drink, and he set down his mug and reached for the ball, grabbing onto it in her hand.

"Hey, I can handle myself, just watch."

"I like friendly." She grinned and tugged on the cue. "And I wouldn't ask you to bet anything you wouldn't be willing to lose!" Really! Honest!

Mostly honest!

...

...

...

What were his feelings on strip pool?

ANYWAY!

"I know you can!"

She'd never convince him to do it in public.

Well... probably never.

He tugged on the ball to take it from her so he could take his shot.

"What about you? Maybe it should be you worried 'bout losin' somethin'."

Depended on the number of drinks and how many other people she could get playing? Communal naked was easier to survive! And laugh about!

When he got the ball away she leaned on the edge of the table and stole a sip or several from his beer. "Hmmm? The key to not being worried about that isn't being unbeatable..." she pointed out. "It's knowing you don't mind losing most things to the person you're playing against."

Until the booze wore off, and then he'd have regrets. Lots of them.

Setting the ball on the table, he lined up his shot.

"Is that it? So what would you not mind losin' to me?"

He was just curious, as he was still pretty sure he wasn't going to bet her.

Especially since his shot failed to sink anything. Straightening up, he stepped back and reclaimed his beer.

"Damn."

"Dunno, what's the upward limit of what you'd ask for given I have no actual money of my own?" She grinned wickedly and sashayed around the table to her shot. Last Stripe, three bank shot called on the eight.

Yeah, she was just playing with him now because that call? Missed and bounced by the barest margin.

Bill held his breath, and took it as a stroke of luck that it didn't go in.

"Oh. Someone got too fancy there."

Emptying his beer, he signaled for another one before stepping up to the table. Lining up his next shot carefully, the ball went in and set him up for another.

"Well, I ain't really a high stakes kind of guy. If you were one of the boys we'd be playin' for shifts at the station or beers. 'Course, I could maybe play you for beers. Shots for shots is fun, too."

Taking his shot, he made another and had the hope that maybe he'd catch her.

"Did I?" She grinned cheerfully. "Oops. Can't help showing off." Was this a trustworthy grin? You bet!

"Shots for shots sounds interesting. I've got a good metabolism but alcohol will hit me eventually...and you've got more weight on you than me. We might run even in the giggle factor." He could catch her. She'd happily dink around with the eight ball until it was the only ball left.

It was a trustworthy grin. A little too trustworthy. He eyed, her, then went back to focus on lining up his shot.

"Muscle mass, not weight," he corrected, making the ball in and pausing to chalk his cue. "We could play for shots. Basically, I make one, you take one, an' vice versa. That way, no one's a real loser."

Until the shots catch up and they both are, of course.

Griiiiiiiin?

"I have muscle mass Bill, as do you. As reasonable fit specimens, you simply out weigh me, therefor, more weight." She stuck her tongue out at him then eyed the bar speculatively. "Could start that next game? And probably have some chips or something to munch between so we don't die or something..."

"Yeah, but you say it like that an' it makes me sound fat," he chuckled, and finished clearing the solid balls off of the table.

He tried an easy bank shot for the eight ball and missed.

"Next game, then."

She circled around the table until she could poke his belly then grinned. "Nah, we know better right? I mean, you're good looking, and once I get you running with me you'll cause heart attacks when you take your shirt off..." No lie!

Called five bank eight ball sink!

"NEW GAME! What are we taking shots of? We'll need...fifteen shots?" EAsier to have them all lined up right?

He smiled, and in an effort to avoid blushing replied, "Who says I ain't causin' 'em now?"

He watched her nail that shot and wondered if he hadn't just been hustled.

"Alright. Pick your poison. I prefer whiskey, but can be talked into rum, or vodka if we have to. I don't do tequila, though."

The expression he gave her definitely had some history to it.

"Never tried tequila so I'm good with whiskey." She poked his nose gently then went to go talk to the bartender who was...not keen on giving out fifteen shots but did it anyway.

Clarice had a good smile after all.

"And you're not leaving bodies behind you Bill. Rabid, hungry women yes, bodies...no." They now had a tab!

Bill put in an order for chips and chicken wings, too, then went to rack the balls at their table.

"You can still have a heart attack an' not be dead, y'know," he pointed out as he lifted the triangle and stepped back from the table.

"Yes, but if you were causing enough of them the response teams would be overwhelmed and you'd get bodies." She grinned and chalked her cue before eying the table. "I had last break." Ergo, his turn.

"Not that some bodies wouldn't be good...I imagine the lynch mob will be big enough when people find out I'm happy flirting with you." And a smaller mob would be nice?

"Yeah, but you won," he pointed out, which left it her break.

"They're might be a couple broken hearts," he admitted, "But a mob?"

He shook his head at the thought.

"Oh, you haven't seen the looks Bill..." She grinned, leaned over the table and broke. Four on break, three solids and one stripe. She took solids naturally. And the then the cue sank.

"That's...three for you one for me?" she asked, just to make sure she had the rules down. "Me, I figure people should like who they like and if that makes them happy, good. I think the town thinks the sheriff should love within the community and they have a LOT OF SINGLE WOMEN!"

Shit.

Bill eyed the shots and wondered how many were going to end up being his.

He took the first two while she was still shooting, then held one out to her and had his third when she was done.

Swallowing the whiskey burn, he wiped his chin with the side of his hand.

"I'm sure they do, but it really ain't none of their damn business."

Taking up his cue, Bill set himself up on the table and took his shots, tying things up by sinking two before he missed.

FOR SHAME! Did he really think Clarice would let him take all those shots alone? She tossed back her first, then her next two before the snacks arrived.

"No, it's not," she agreed easily. "But small town Bill. Whose business do you not know? Everyone keeps tabs on people and that means they feel they have a say eventually." Two more in.

Scratch.

What? It was an easy way to end a turn!

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