(Untitled)

[e_delmar]

There's a trail of smoke lifting up through the late night (okay, early morning) darkness from where Ennis' sitting down by the lake

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[jack_f_twist]

The space between Sallie's ranch on Shadow and the Milliways lake ain't exactly traversable by ship--even disregarding the time difference, it's just too damn far, years and a universe away.

It took Jack all of a minute, maybe less--two more to make sure there's no familiar hat by the fire or at the bar. There ain't--and there's only a couple more places he can check.

It's on his way to the stables that he sees the little coil of smoke, smells tobacco burning and catches sight of a hunched up back and long rangy legs and that beat-up hat, and for once, Jack Twist is completely fuckin' speechless.

[e_delmar]

Ennis don't see him, he don't even hear him. For right now, all he's got is his smoke, his hat, and the sky. And he don't even mind it that way, at least as much as he don't mind anything here.

He shifts a little, taking the hat off and putting it next to him before leaning back on his elbows.

[jack_f_twist]

It's too damn cold out here and Jack ain't got his coat or a smoke or nothin' anymore--but the grass crunches underneath his bootheels as he makes his way over, walking as quick as he can without running.

And, hit--it's that old familiar shirt and the tan hat and when he reaches down there's a warm shoulder under his hand. He grabs onto the material and pulls.

"Get the fuck up, you goddamn son of a bitch."

[e_delmar]

There's a moment while Ennis don't know who the voice belongs to, or why it's talkin' to him like that, but that moment don't last two long, and he pulls himself up from the ground, dropping his cigarette in the damp grass and throwin' himself at Jack in something that's like a hug, but maybe more like a punch.