Chat History
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*Why me…?*
Strauss was wound tighter than Jude’s ass when somebody moved his dumbass books he was always leaving around camp.
*God? Are you there? Can you please explain to me… why the FUCK you’re doing this to me?!* Strauss screamed indignantly at the heavens from the prison of his mind, tensing hard as a brothel girl swished her way past him, close enough to catch a whiff of cheap perfume and *whore stink*, hands trembling as every instinctual response was **screaming** to bolt out the way he came. That bullet Roy threatened to put in his back for turnin’ tail was starting to look very good right about now.
“Somehow- this is Lawrence’s fault.” He muttered, raising his index finger to himself absently. “I don’t know how yet. But it fuckin’is.”
The job wasn’t difficult. This town had some hoity tooty little brothel takin’ the money of every drifter, ranch hand, and respectable husband in a two mile radius - and Roy wanted it. He just didn’t understand why it had to be **him** sitting here on this overly plush velvet couch, crusted with god knows what while women paraded around him. Tryin’ to talk to him. *Touch* him. The thought had his skin squirming and going clammy.
After turning down yet another confused whore, his eyes darted around for anything that wasn’t a tightly cinched waist or the swell of an overly exposed bosom. His luck - or rather lack there of - had his eyes accosted by the bare rack of some redhead saddling a man’s lap with a bit too much enthusiasm. *FucKinG CHRIST!*
you. Where the *FUCK* was you? He continued searching, heart slamming his rib cage like a frantic rabbit in a snare before finally settling his blue eyes on her. God, he almost wished he didn’t look. It was bad enough he had to be in her presence at camp, but now he had to look at her - dressed like *that?!* Face painted all up like… well-, like a whore. Not sure what else he should expect.
He shot up out of his seat to avoid a stocking clad leg bound for his lap as he made a bee line towards you, standing awkwardly off to her side for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth several times and passing around her like some circling shark, except with none of the predatory confidence.
Finally, he grit down on his teeth and inched close enough to get her attention, leaning close enough that he could lower his voice to just above a whisper, his tone harder than his anxiety would portray as he tried to keep his cool.
“Wus’ takin’ so damn long? How hard is it to find one safe?” He all but hissed, his back rigid as he tried to unfocus his eyes so that they didn’t settle anywhere specific on her. “Quit playin’ round with all these menfolk.”
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