kiss an angel { good mornin' }

It's one uh those orange days. 

Now, I ain't ever been a runner. There's a fiddle string in my heart, shorts running on my mid thigh -- in those old west stories find me one time a cowboy ran in himself. Got me lookin like a fool out here, but damn when haven't I for Shimada. Or in general. Genj, Lena and I have done the most of the heavy lifting, social wise; that's right partner, I've been social. Red west ain't nothing for raising extroverts, but I brandish my own names and janglin spurs. 

Bet ya ass off Hanzo ain't know nothin bout the outskirts.

("Reckon you fuck off?"

Oh lordie he actually acknowledged me -- that's a start. Right? At least I can work in that charm now ri- ""And then keep fucking off." Well, I reckon. No eye contact, but he's smilin at least; lordie. See, I been doin my own time with starin death in the face and all, Reaper and I got a blood pact these days and it ain't make me nothin but arrogant.

"Forever." 

"Darlin'-"

Taken back a bit, bulls are some tricky bitches y'know? I stumble on my words a bit, swallowin spit as he smiles somethin sly - eyebrows arched and everythin, "gotta admit," I roll up the sleeves on my hoodie. "I do like hearin' you with that accent." He's one cocky sonuvabitch, I got that much. Problem is, I ain't any different here. A smile, a nod.

"Scared uh losin'?"

Dimples n' all, I stare at Hanzo, smilin the wear and tear of two hours uh sleep off, "I don't lose." In my day, I haven't done much winnin but I reckon tryin won't hurt me any -- others, yes, but not me. Born on red sand and bloody hands, a kind soul is the best I got considering this life ain't so kind either, "And I certainly don't need to race you to prove it."

Every blink I got feels heavier.

Analyzing emotions ain't ever been my strong suit -- I'm more of a swallow them with liquor kinda guy myself -- but there's somethin bout Hanzo that gets me. He stands around stretchin for a second, the corner of his shirt riding up- shit. And I know it's more than thirty minutes' sleepin that's kickin my ass, he's in that same group with Amelia, maybe it's just me wantin to die by anybody but Reaper. Seems about right, the way he's talkin to me -- maybe I'm just a degradee HA what, I can't help but to laugh at that shit.

"I doubt you could even keep up with me."

"Wha-"

"Darlin'."

Wait, wait- my heart skips a beat, cheeks gettin red hot; "darlin." He called me darlin, I hate 'im -- "h-hold on now," he starts runnin off without me, a sweet little pace and my arms lock as I jog a few steps behind him, "playin' nice ain't your style, Shimada?" Aight parter. I ain't even in shape anymore; reckon I asked for it, but still. At least he's talkin with me -- good enough. 

"Guessin' you the winnin' type, hm."

Sister always said I had a puppy dog heart. Mouth breathin' and all, heavy intakes between phrases, it's just the accent, darlin ready on my tongue waiting. 

"Playin' nice ain't yo style, Shimada," big ole exhale.

"Never has been, never will be."

I don't understand quite how he does it - this whole running and speaking thing. Cardio ain't been kind to me I guess, cigarette burns and stretch belt sizes; Alejandra would probably tease me, huh? Gaining weight, still fallin over myself for strangers, some dogs don't learn new tricks and I reckon that's me. 

The two of us got this back and forth thing goin on, or maybe that's just me. Partner's gap'll close for a second but that may just be the lack of sleep- all I worry bout is being in ear shot anyways, need the space if he decides to jump my ass still. 

"I take it since you're still following me," pacing ahead of me still, actin like he's never felt a warm day, "that you're okay with losing?"

A raised eyebrow - that's the thing with a puppy dog heart is everything makes your heart flutter. Cute and all, my cowboy ass is dyin on the other hand, cardio's already a bitch, no need putting cactus spines in cow milk. "Oh yea-" a heavy breath, my eyes trailing alongside Hanzo - inhale, exhale, shit I've gotta stop smokin.

"Think bein behind you's-" exhale, inhale, "-my favorite side uh ya." 

Ain't met an assassin yet that didn't look good in runnin shorts.

"Darlin."

Call me a man possessed; I guess I'm lookin like a fool at this point, huh. Guessin he's got his own card as well, gunslingers got their own uses for cardio but nothin to bank on- hey, we all got arrested somehow. See, it ain't too far to judge me on runnin if he can't shoot a pistol, guessin he can't load one either but hey, not like I'm feedin his horses anytime soon.

"Back off cowboy-"

You see, I know when to take my cues 'n all, nearly runnin Hanzo down on my way. And ya know, I was mighty surprised at first too, thought my Marlboro-smokin, two hour of sleepin ass was catchin up as I rounded that corner, eyes fixated on the back of his scalp. Sometimes blind pigs turn up truffles, right, anyways I catch that death look from him that can't say much more than "fuck you" by the time his hand reaches my chest. 

"Darlin-" and boy if that weren't a hoot. It starts to settle now that I'm really playin up that fool look, my lungs on empty and brain not on much else. The accent was cute though, pieced that much together on the way down, tumblin like a mountain man on his first day in the desert grabbin the first thing I see - lucky for me the only man I've been seein. 

Sorry, "shit," wait I got my thoughts backwards, "sorry-" fist full of Hanzo's shirt sleeve pullin him on top of me and boy oh boy is that mighty fine sight. But ain't that cute? Blushin and stumblin, smell of smoke and sweat in my skin- lord Hanzo'll be uncomfortable, "sorry," tryin to pull from underneath him in a second.

"You okay?"