almightythirst | Deerington Inbox

It's a surprise to her, having him show up in her office like that, and yet she realizes she probably should have expected it sooner or later. When she looks up at him she's hit with a wave of nostalgia. How many times had he come in all those years before to her buried in paperwork because she refused to file everything into online programs that could be hacked. Knowing how to do paperwork had made it easier to transition to the old fashioned system here. However, it made for a large mess, and she was pouring over it.

Seeing him, causes her to swallow reflexively. Well, so much for avoiding all her thoughts regarding Jesse McCree that evening. "Always." She offers a brief smile before looking back down to the papers. Though it's a subtle thing, there is trust in the fact that she's not quickly picking up her mess and putting it back under lock and key. She isn't entirely sure how to approach his presence, but the safest way is to act normal, try not to let him see the mix of emotions that she's still battling with. "But, I can make time." She beckons him in with a finger and points to a chair. "So, what's up?"

The whole thing is so familiar to her. The only thing different is the nervous knot in her stomach and the question of whether or not he would even approve. She'd never had that fear back then.

He returns the smile easily, and isn’t that a sign of how far things have come? He’s not immune to the familiarity of the moment either, but it’s equally as notable for how unfamiliar it’s been. But here they are again, full circle.

Jesse sits down, eyes moving from the paperwork back up to Ashe’s face. She looks good. Not just, like attractive good (which she has always been, which Jesse had been really good at not caring about until very recently, and now can’t not notice when they’re in close proximity), but also generally. She seems as rested as anyone can get in Deerington. No visible injuries. No notable strain. He relaxes, just a little, and leans back in his seat.

“Just been a spell since I’d seen you around. Thought I’d drop by and see what you’ve been workin’ on, since I’ve got my fingers in this pie now and all.” He glances back down with a quiet huff of laughter. “You still doin’ things like this back home? Paper records?”

She wouldn't deny that she'd been a bit absent over the last few weeks. Despite that it worked in her favor, she really had been busy. Luckily she wasn't worse for the wear and couldn't really complain about her physical or mental state. As he takes a seat and leans back she mentally evaluates him as well, looking at him perhaps a bit longer than she should have. At least the awkwardness is broken when he comments on the paper records, and she gives a laugh. "'Course I do! You think I'd let any of those high end hackers catch on to my dealings? I have however gotten extremely good at leaving online trails to dead ends." She set down her pen and cracked her knuckles, she was so incredibly proud of the work she did. Whether it was good or bad, she was very good at what she did. "Still keep the most important things locked up in that same old safe."

It was only natural that he would want to see what she was working on. She thought briefly about what to share and what to keep to herself, but as she thought more about it, she realized there really wasn't anything she was too concerned about hiding from him. With things coming around full circle, she found that she wanted to share every detail with him. Of course she wouldn't say that out loud, but she would use the excuse that if she was going to properly utilize him, he had to be in the know.

"Well, I think you'll be pleased with this piece of pie." Despite that he had just sat down, she beckoned him over to her desk. "Come and take a look for yourself." She sounded more confident than she felt in the offer. "But these documents have been seen by very few people, and I am sure you know how quickly we'd go back to disagreein' if you breathe a word of this." Laid out on the table were papers with important names and descriptions of the townsfolk who worked the Deerington trafficking before she'd made deals with them. She had lists of times and expected shipments. She even had a few underground locations that only the locals knew about.

Jesse can’t say he condones the work Ashe does back home, but her enthusiasm and pride has his smile stretching wider anyway. He’d always teased her about those old-fashioned paper records, but there’s truth in them being more secure in this day and age. The only way anyone could get to them would be to get in—and back out—of the Deadlock compound alive. Not many people would risk that. Fewer could actually accomplish it.

“Who am I gonna tell? The Authority? You know I’m not a cat person.” He smirks before standing, not seeming bothered by the up and down. Rather the opposite. He’d half wondered on the way here if she’d be cagey with her information. He’s already expecting that she won’t show him everything, less sure of her trust in him than perhaps she is. But she’s trusting him this much, and it’s not a terrible feeling.

“Hear they’re not even around,” he comments offhand as he half-sits on the top of the desk, his weight on his hip. Despite the joking, he skims the papers with a critical eye. The same he’d used for Deadlock once, then Overwatch after, and then for no one but himself—and it hasn’t failed a one of them yet.

“This is gettin’ big fast. You gonna kick things into high gear with the Authority gone?”

The thought was laughable. Jesse was many things, but Ashe knew he was not a rat. She knew well enough that he wasn't likely to hand her in to any authorities. If he hadn't back home, he wasn't likely to here either. At the moment there wasn't anyone to even tell. She leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Somethin' we share in common." One of the many things it would seem.

She gives a nod to his other question. She had been waiting for the right moment to step up the game. The cats had been gone for two months previously and she had figured it was only a matter of time before whatever was going on here scared them off again. "Better believe it. I've got all the necessary documents and an abundance of goods to move." The documents he was looking over contained not only the lists of good, but also information about the money she'd been laundering. It made her a little nervous sharing it with him. It was clear that she could see a picture bigger than just the small operation of stealing weapons and reselling them for profit. Ashe was taking a different approach to fighting back against Deerington and it started in the underground with it's untapped resources.

She reached over and grabbed a folder full of forged documents. "That's what everyone's gonna see. For most of them, ignorance will be bliss, and I think at the very least we can agree everyone here should be armed. You can correct me if I'm wrong, but those are the next best thing to authentic. Just another smalltown business thought up by one of us visitors. I don't think the mayor himself would be able to tell the difference."

Money laundering, huh? Certainly not the worst thing Ashe has done. Hell, he’s done worse himself. So there’s no judgement on his face as he continues to sift through the papers, but he does somehow become more serious with every page turned. It’s not so much emotional as practical. This is the business side of Jesse McCree, the one that always seems to switch on when there’s shop to talk.

“So you’ve got the money, the credentials to cover your tracks…” He digs a cigarillo out of his pocket, rolling it between two fingers as he takes it all in.

“What’s the endgame, Ashe? You’ve laid down a good set of tracks here. Where d’you want ‘em to go?”

He thinks he knows, but he wants to hear her explain it. Never assume you know what people are thinking in the planning stages of a mission, even if it’s someone you know well as you know yourself. It only takes one misunderstanding to botch an entire setup.

The look on his face is a evidence that the work she's showing is sound. She had always appreciated bringing the final pieces to him to look over, and it felt good to do it here again. She enjoyed Shades and his opinions, but Jesse had a unique way of working with her, she'd forgotten that.

When he brings up the endgame, a small smile forms on her lips, but there isn't any particular joy in her eyes. What was the endgame? Survival really. Time to get real, more real than she'd gotten with anyone here. Unhooking her legs she moves her chair in closer. "I know you've been occupying the upstairs bar as a bouncer since you arrived, but I don't know how much you know about everythin' that's happenin' down here. Jesse. These are bad people. Whatever went down in this town, it was ugly. Sure, we all know that the townsfolk ain't really trustworthy, but this runs deep and I've managed to get an in with some of the bad players because that's what I do."

There were multiple angles to her mission, but one that remained a focal point was the ugliness that had led to whatever happened in this town. "The way I see it, we can do this in one of two ways. If we slowly take over the worst parts of this place by workin' down the criminals, we may be able to over power them." But there was another thing, one that was really what made Ashe the powerful leader she was. "The other possibility is that just like us we are all fightin' for a common goal and workin' against each other. Month after month, fightin' until we got nothin' left. They pick us off, we pick them off." She gave him a pointed look. "See where I am goin' with this?" She didn't give a chance to reply before continuing. "The only way we are goin' to be able to work together is if someone starts workin' with them. I'm doin' that. Little by little, I'm growin' my power, our power, and creatin' a strong army. I'll find a way to make them see they would do best to work with us, and not against us."

There was another pause and she let out a small laugh. "And well, I would be lyin' if I said the idea of controllin' it all wasn't incredibly appealin' to me. I like people seein' things my way."

Jesse lights the cigarillo as Ashe starts explaining. Once that’s done, then she has his full attention. He rests a hand on the top of the desk as he leans in to listen. If someone were to walk in just then, they’d be the perfect picture of two co-conspirators.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d gone straight for the criminal element, but it’s still unsettling just how involved she’s managed to get herself in such a short amount of time. He’d been aware of the Deerington underground, but had largely steered clear. He’d had to reason to engage. Now he’s thinking he should’ve paid more attention, if only to know just what it is that Ashe has gotten herself into.

“So you’re gonna get them ridin’ under your banner against the mayor, and whatever else is runnin’ this place.” It’s crazy. Foolhardy. Brilliant, in a twisted-morally-gray sort of way. That means it’s plenty familiar, too. Deadlock had done it. Blackwatch had done it, even if it had been for better reasons. Jesse leans back a little and turns his head to blow out a stream of smoke, expression pensive.

“This could work, or it could go south in a real bad way. What if they decide they don’t need a leader?” He looks back at her, brow furrowed with his frown. “And how deep into their dirty dealings are you gonna have to get to win ‘em over?”

Ashe stands up and walks over to lean against one clear glass wall that overlooks the warehouse floor. Hundreds of crates, were lined up and several locals were working hard to get things unpacked and moved around. She is quiet for a moment, lost in thought over it all. “I brought the other gangs together back home, by convincin’ them that listenin’ to me would be beneficial. I still let them do their own thing and they only answer to me when they cross the lines of our agreements. I am just usin’ the same strategies here, and so far it’s workin’. You don’t think they just handed me over one of their offices do you? I earned it.”

This had mostly happened while he’d been gone, as usual she seemed to lose some of her senses without his balance. This was something she knew, but as she turns her head to look back at him, it’s clear she is well aware she’s walking through dangerous territory. It was like being surrounded by snakes and she wasn’t sure which ones were poisonous. She ran a high risk of being bitten and she briefly wonders if the look on his face is concern or disapproval.

“How deep am I goin’ to go? I guess I’m sort of livin’ on the edge with that one.” Walking back towards her desk she comes in close, before reaching out for his cigarillo. It had been awhile since she’d smoked his brand. “This is what I do. I’m the bad guy right? Who better to navigate all this than me?” She didn’t sound so sure. The months of mind games in Deerington, as well as whatever she and Jesse were doing had challenged her typical way of thinking. She’d always been so sure of her place in the world back home. Here, she’d lost some of certainty. “Maybe I’m playin’ with fire, but if I’m successful the rewards will be bountiful.” For everyone involved. “Besides, I like playin’ with fire. Never could seem to do things the easy way.”

Ashe is right. She has done this before, and to great success. But how often does lightning strike twice?

Watching her silhouette as she looks out over the warehouse, Jesse knows that if anyone could make it happen, it’s Ashe. Ruthless, smart as a whip and with just as sharp of a sting when she lashes out—she’s a born leader, and a self-made one despite having had the means to just buy whatever she needed. Fleetingly, he wonders what she would have been if she hadn’t stayed with Deadlock. If she’d been recruited for Blackwatch with him, or left with him when he’d come to see her after going solo.

But he’s also aware that, despite the criminal element of her plan, it’s the most proactive attempt at rebellion he’s seen anyone dare try in Deerington. Her intentions are good, even if the means she’s using to that end aren’t. But at the end of the day, he’s less worried about her being villainous, and more concerned with her getting burned by the fire of her own ambition.

And he hasn’t forgotten what she’d said in the bar that night either. Right before she’d run out. Whatever he’d thought about Ashe before, the good or the badness of her—the truth is so much more complicated than that.

He hands over the cigarillo without complaint, humming his assent with a wry smile.

“Don’t think you could do things the easy way even if you tried. You always find the rockiest, most godforsaken path and walk right down it.”

But he can hear it—the hesitation in her voice. Or if not hesitation, uncertainty. For all her talk and bluster, maybe she’s not so sure about the plan. About herself. It gives him hope, somehow, seeing her not going into this blindly.

“You really think you’re a bad guy, though? Because the way I see it, you’re workin’ with what you know to try and do somethin’ good for everyone here.” He seeks out her gaze through the haze of cigarillo smoke with his own.

“Just hope you’re bein' careful enough. Settin’ boundaries for yourself and makin' contingency plans, and all that.”

Most of those who were in power and wealth, had it because they'd been born with that silver spoon in their mouth. Ashe may have been more accommodating if she'd had love and support, but maybe not. There wasn't anything she could change about what she'd been born into, but she'd spit out that spoon and run away with him because she cared so much more about what he had to offer with nothing than all the wealth in the world.

She takes a deep drag from the cigarillo, pulling the smoke into her mouth and letting it linger for a moment while she dared to remember what he'd tasted like at the party. "No, I'm stubborn as a mule and twice as ornery. And what can I say, I like a challenge and a little danger makes the success of it all that much more rewardin'. " The easy way had always bored her and a life of crime was definitely filled with its thrills. There were other avenues that she could explore, but no desk job would have ever satisfied her. The only issue here was that Deerington didn't play by the normal rules and so she was navigating uncharted territory. As of yet, it hadn't thrown a challenge at her that she couldn't handle, but it seemed to be trying.

Especially when it came to Jesse.

She meets his gaze, and thoughts of the work and the warehouse slip away for a moment, while he considers him. She takes another drag from the cigarillo before handing it back. "I'm bein' careful, careful as I can. Doin' my best to get out of each situation with minimal damage, for everyone involved. It ain't my goal to hurt people." She just didn't always care or think much about the impact her choices and business matters had on others. If she came out on top, that just meant she'd managed to not be the one hurt. "Maybe that means I'm more than just your average bad guy or villain. But I certainly ain't the good guy."

She was struggling to break the gaze, didn't even want to look away. There is a real softness to his eyes and she's drawn to it. "What is you're always sayin'? Maybe I'm not good, maybe I'm not bad, but I certainly ain't ugly? Didn't you use to say somethin' like that?"

Jesse isn’t sure she is being careful as she can. Maybe she thinks she is, if only because she’s not paying attention to the dangers of compromising what moral compass she might have left for this enterprise. And she does have a moral compass, of a kind. Like his, it doesn’t always point due north, but it’s there just the same.

“You remember that?” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners along well-worn lines. He glances away, only for his eyes to be drawn right back to her. “I still say it. Guess I can let you borrow it too, if you want. Gotta pay me royalties though.”

No doubting if it applies to her, because it so obviously does. He takes a drag of his cigarillo and catches a glimpse of red on it from her lipstick, and in a moment his thoughts are back at the party. Her lips on his. Her lipstick left on his skin like a brand. He clears his throat and tilts his head away, with the (perfectly valid) excuse of not blowing his smoke out in her face.

“You’ve got good and bad in you, same as anyone. But when you do one, you go farther than most would. Just…don’t let this place change you into somebody you don’t want to be.”

Is that what had happened with Deadlock? Had she started out with good intentions, and gotten lost along the way? Or had it been a purposeful downhill spiral? Does she regret it or not? When he turns back to her, there’s something searching in his gaze. A question he doesn’t know how to ask.

"Royalties, huh?" She laughed at the notion and shook her head. "If anyone owes royalties, it's you to Clint Eastwood. You practically stole the man's style, God rest his soul." Her tone was light and playful. It was so easy to feel relaxed around him when their friendly banter was going on.

It's less easy to talk to him about the heaviness of the enterprise she was creating. Not because she didn't want to talk to him about it, but because there was worry on both their ends. Crime was always a balancing act and falling off the high wire could have nasty consequences. She was trying to stay safe, but it was difficult.

She swallowed roughly as she voices the concern about her changing. This place was changing her, though maybe not for the worst. Deeringon was regularly forcing her to question all the things she had held herself too. Catching his gaze again, she finds herself making mental notes about his features. Her own thoughts returned constantly to that night at the party, but she would have guessed that she was the only one thinking about it.

"Too late for that." She looks down, finding a one manicured nail that was in need of care suddenly deeply interesting. "I think I'm already not the same woman I was six months ago. Hell, I would have laughed in their face if anyone had suggested we'd be workin' together again. Y'know right around the time you left, the boys would say they wished you were back just to reign me in. I broke a nose or two over that. But if what they were saying was true, well...I guess I need you down here in the thick of it with me, makin' sure I don't get in over my head." The truth was, for the first time in years, she actually felt like herself. When she looks back up at him, she catches the look in his eyes that suggests he is leaving something unsaid. She feels a warmth spread over her cheeks as she watches him intently.

"C'mon cowboy, just say what's on your mind."

“I’m not rippin’ him off, I’m honorin’ his memory. Besides, sure there were plenty of cowboys who dressed up the same before he even got into movies. The crew got inspired from somewhere.”

He’s put thought into this, obviously, and it’s not often anyone actually puts up with his long, rambling talks about old Westerns and the finer points of cowboy culture. But seeing as there’s more important topics on the table, he manages to keep from elaborating, focusing instead on Ashe.

The boys would say they wished you were back just to reign me in. He schools his face, hoping the little twinge in his chest doesn’t translate to an outward expression. Had he been missed? He’d wondered sometimes, feeling self-centered and a little bit maudlin about it. He’d not been close to anyone like he’d been close with Ashe, but he’d had friends. They’d been in it together. How much of that old gang was even still around these days, not killed off, scared off, or arrested?

Again, off-topic. He feels the truth of what she’s saying without even having to consider it: she doesn’t need him to be successful, but she might just need him to stay alive long enough to reap the rewards. As for whether he’s willing to do that… well, he doesn’t have to consider that either. Looking into those ruby-toned eyes, he knows the answer.

Say what’s on his mind? Hell, does he even know? Does he want to ask a question, or make her a promise, or say something he shouldn’t? Like how pretty she is when she blushes, the warmth of her cheeks offsetting her eyes…?

No. None of that, obviously. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You hungry?”

She waved her hand to his cowboy reference, dismissing the excuses with a smile. There were other times that would be better for indulging him in a solid conversation about cowboy culture, but she certainly wasn't put off by the idea of picking up the conversation at another time.

Her own thoughts feel a bit too muddled to stay on that topic. The way he watches her pulls her in and she tries to pinpoint how it makes her feel. Safe keeps coming to mind and it's a turn around from the way she had felt over the years regarding him. Even if she hasn't been able to kick the vulnerability and apprehension of letting him in emotionally again, she feels relatively sure that he will have her back. At least sure enough to bring him into the web of her work again.

For her part, even when he wasn't right in front of her, he was on her mind consistently. Had been for month, with a growing intensity since August. There are moments where she finds she wants to just watch him. She's been hyper aware of his body lately and the way he moves. His own eyes are too easy to get lost in, and she's thought multiple times about how much she wants to kiss him again. Feel his mouth on hers and his beard brushing against her skin.

While she waits for the answer to her question, she grows a bit lost, so when he asks her about being hungry she snaps back to herself. "Hungry?" Was he asking her to dinner? Probably not in the that sense of the word. But dinner with him sounded great. "Yeah...I could eat. Skipped lunch holed up down here. You want to go get some food?"

There. Back on solid ground, easy as that. This is something he’ll have to do, he realizes now: keep busy with her. Have a purpose when they speak, when they meet. Otherwise, he’s starting to get the notion that he’ll say or do something that will destroy all of this goodwill they’ve miraculously been able to build up.

Or maybe not, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of his mind, presenting a perfect example of exactly why he needs to heed his own good advice. The moment their conversation had lulled, the what-ifs had come rushing in to trip him up. What if she wanted to kiss him much as he wants to kiss her? What if, as he’s been told and refused to believe, she doesn’t hate him much as she used to?

“Let’s get you out of here and into some fresh air then. B.O.B. know you’ve been skippin’ meals?”

He turns towards the door, putting her out of sight just long enough for him to catch his breath.

Despite it being a good business move, it's a solid way to keep close. She still hasn't figured out why she wants to, but she does. So close in fact that she feels a small wave of disappointment when he moves away. She realizes that they've been close enough that it could have been a possibility. Dinner though sounds nice, and she likes the prospect of having a meal with him. She's pretty sure the last place they ever had a meal together was at the Panorama Dinner on Route 66, years ago. She could recall complaining about the food the whole time. She makes a mental note to not complain about the food this time. It was at least some growth.

Quickly, she puts her papers away under lock and key before reaching for her leather jacket, pulling it on and turning off her desk light. "Well, obviously he doesn't, because otherwise he'd be bringin' me lunch." It was a joke mostly. B.O.B. had just been busy too with runnin' an errand she had asked of him. She'd told him to head home when he was done.

"Alright. I'm all set. Let's go, just... please not diner food." Okay. It was a work in progress. "Maybe that nice Chinese place, instead?" She was trying.

Jesse had always been defensive of that diner. Best pie in the state, if not the country, or he’d always maintained. If asked, he would still say so. But he’s the kind of guy who can live off of tar-thick diner coffee, so. That explains a lot.

“Fine, fine…” He sighs, playing at being huffy. He can tell that she’s trying though, and he won’t tease her overly much today. Meeting each other halfway… now that’s a new concept to consider.

“Chinese sounds good. You know I can put away those little dumplin’s like nobody’s business.”

Likewise Ashe had often accused him of having absolutely no taste, and any explanation or defense would have been met with such. It would have turned into one of the old arguments they'd had as teens while debating on where to eat. Or what to buy. Or what hotel to stay at.

She smiles though, because she takes that as a concession and she's glad to know they don't have to eat diner food. "Just don't embarrass me." However, her eyes are bright with amusement and she looks happy as she reaches for the light switch before locking the door.

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