tedandroses: (folk)
Teddy ([personal profile] tedandroses) wrote in [community profile] singillatim2025-08-23 09:59 pm
Entry tags:

[for [personal profile] pacificator!]

Who: Teddy and Wynonna
What: Talking, drinking, possibly playing guitar if no one else is in there, we'll find out.
When: In...August...? lol we didn't discuss if this was backdated or not did we!
Where: The Saloon



She's thinking about heading out to see where there might be good sound -- they're in the foothills of mountains. Not just mountains but a mining town, and that's a thing Teddy knows. The way rock and trees and slopes can reflect and deaden a tone, what snow does to it or water, the way things echo even when you're above the hollow part. Even if she doesn't know this valley, she knows that. There's a part of her that thinks, despite everything, despite how terrible this place insists on being, maybe I could find a place that's just me and the mountains, far enough to not bother anyone and not get interrupted for a while...

Thing is, they know it's a damn shot in the dark that they'll even ever find a place that sounds any better than any other and is comfortable to sit and not too dangerous. Much less today. So when the Saloon - Post Office - thing catches their eye for about the hundredth time, they glance at Scout and cross cattycorner toward it, guitar case over one shoulder be damned.

It obviously used to be a post office, but Teddy's not sure if it used to be a post office and now it's just 'the saloon' or it's a saloon actually called The Post Office, because the sign's still up. He kind of likes the idea. It doesn't really matter: it's a place Teddy hasn't been. Maybe the idea of some not-quite-day drinking (pretty near can't tell, the way it stays light here) and conversation suits him better. It's easy to be alone here if you want to be. The opposite isn't always true.

The door dings when she opens the door in a way that for some reason Teddy didn't expect, and she jumps slightly (while Scout, used to public places making funny noises, barely reacts). It clangs abruptly in an extremely quiet room. Teddy represses a laugh at her own awkward entrance; leans into being a little shit instead and calls over, "Hey, y'all sell postcard stamps?"
pacificator: (I was already halfway gone)

cw: wynonna horny thoughts, just right off the bat, SORRY

[personal profile] pacificator 2025-08-24 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)
It's a quiet enough day — night, whatever it is, when the sun still refuses to set for more than a couple of hours and when she's spent the last few months slowly migrating to Edward's new nocturnal schedule — at the saloon, which generally means Wynonna's just there by herself. Edward's out for what he calls a walk and what she calls self-imposed exile, a state he occasionally slips into after he's had to feed from her for a few days in a row.

Maybe next time she'll tell him he can make it up to her by eating her in a different way. Not that he'd get it.

All this to say, she's lingering at the bar, flipping through one of the old magazines that had been mailed to somebody here in town back before all hell broke loose and slightly wishing for Logan or Jason to show back up, inject a little life into the place. When the bell at the door does ring, though, it's not to announce either of them; it's somebody she doesn't recognize, a guitar case slung over one shoulder and a dog trotting along beside. "Please."

Wynonna doesn't even bother to straighten, just sets her chin on her hand, elbow on the bar, as her glance flicks up to the newcomer, falling easily into the joke. "Even in this place snail mail is a thing of the past. Try smoke signals."