Hearing someone crash about in his room, Boone had hoped it was his fate finally come to meet him. Seeing that it wasn't was just another disappointment. Who it is instead makes it an especially harsh one.
He puts his own combat knife away. "Get. Out."
Charlie keeps staring at the doorway where his radio sits spitting static instead of the station it's been carefully left on for months, and he clenches his hands up into fists. Not even two weeks on the road with her and she had vanished, the person who had a plan, who was supposed to help set him on his last path to redemption, a path with a point, a direction, a purpose. Not even a stinking month and he was back in this hellish limbo of a room, tied to it like a Brahmin waiting for slaughter and she's the first person in this room since she was taken, and the smell of her, the rotten smell of her, some dry chemical bitterness that clings to the back of his nose is eating away the last sweet traces of lilies.
"Get out now."
Charlie jerks, still not moving, still not looking him in the face like everyone else in this shitty little town, and his temper goes even higher.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!"
She starts edging towards the window instead of the door, still refusing to meet his eyes again, and Boone snaps. It's the only time in his life he'll get the drop on Charlie in a close-quarters fight.
He slams into her so hard her hat flies clean off, preceding them out the door like a frisbee. It's a good six feet before they both crash down again, Charlie twisting and shrieking as they tumble up with his busted radio, a high, wild sound of panic that doesn't stop until she grabs it up and brings it down with a crash on his head.
His bell rung like it's Easter Sunday, Boone gets in two or three more half-hearted punches before he's airborne, one arm jammed up behind his back. Ranger Andy is jerking him around like a ragdoll.
"Son, just what the hell do you think you're doing to this lady? Look at her! Knocked the wind and the inside of her mouth just about clean out!"
Boone jerks his head down as far as he's able. Charlie's crumpled up in the dirt coughing her guts out, her ragged braid dark against the shock of her paled skin. The anger in him runs out slightly, replaced by puzzlement. However hard he was hitting her, however berserk he was while he did it, he knows it wasn't that hard.
"Ranger, no. S'my fault. W-wo-ho-" She whoops and shudders, and just about flings the next words out into the dirt between her hands, a spray of red going with them. "Wokehimouttanightmare. Bad nightmare. Bad. Bitter S-ss-sp-"
She doesn't get the last word out, but it's still magic enough to make Andy let him go. He doesn't say anything, which Boone is beyond grateful for; the old ranger just nods his head once and helps him move Charlie over to the shade of the motel's overhang.
Boone can still remember enough about caring for someone else to pretend like he does and takes a short trip in and out of his room, coming back with a bottle of water and a handkerchief which he hands off to Charlie. He can't bring himself to do more, but what little he's done is enough to placate the old Ranger. Andy nods again as he gives his parting words, keeping one hell of a weather eye on Boone.
"Not that it's any of my business, but it's nice to see you moving on a bit. Be careful now."
Charlie's face goes comically blank as he limps off.
Boone stands there for a while with much the same expression on his own, dealing with a few latent surges of anger and mortification, wishing she had never come back, wishing she had never left him, wishing that he just had his damn beret and glasses to hide behind. He leans down towards his doorway and snatches up her hat instead, holding it out as he straightens. Charlie stares up at him warily for a moment, the bottle and cloth still clutched in her other hand, then slowly pulls his spare beret from one of her voluminous pockets.
Boone shakes his head. "That one's yours. You ditched."
She tucks the beret away again and fumbles her hat back on. "Didn't mean to."
Re: Five Times Boone's Brawled With Charlie: No Vacancy 2/?
He puts his own combat knife away. "Get. Out."
Charlie keeps staring at the doorway where his radio sits spitting static instead of the station it's been carefully left on for months, and he clenches his hands up into fists. Not even two weeks on the road with her and she had vanished, the person who had a plan, who was supposed to help set him on his last path to redemption, a path with a point, a direction, a purpose. Not even a stinking month and he was back in this hellish limbo of a room, tied to it like a Brahmin waiting for slaughter and she's the first person in this room since she was taken, and the smell of her, the rotten smell of her, some dry chemical bitterness that clings to the back of his nose is eating away the last sweet traces of lilies.
"Get out now."
Charlie jerks, still not moving, still not looking him in the face like everyone else in this shitty little town, and his temper goes even higher.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!"
She starts edging towards the window instead of the door, still refusing to meet his eyes again, and Boone snaps. It's the only time in his life he'll get the drop on Charlie in a close-quarters fight.
He slams into her so hard her hat flies clean off, preceding them out the door like a frisbee. It's a good six feet before they both crash down again, Charlie twisting and shrieking as they tumble up with his busted radio, a high, wild sound of panic that doesn't stop until she grabs it up and brings it down with a crash on his head.
His bell rung like it's Easter Sunday, Boone gets in two or three more half-hearted punches before he's airborne, one arm jammed up behind his back. Ranger Andy is jerking him around like a ragdoll.
"Son, just what the hell do you think you're doing to this lady? Look at her! Knocked the wind and the inside of her mouth just about clean out!"
Boone jerks his head down as far as he's able. Charlie's crumpled up in the dirt coughing her guts out, her ragged braid dark against the shock of her paled skin. The anger in him runs out slightly, replaced by puzzlement. However hard he was hitting her, however berserk he was while he did it, he knows it wasn't that hard.
"Ranger, no. S'my fault. W-wo-ho-" She whoops and shudders, and just about flings the next words out into the dirt between her hands, a spray of red going with them. "Wokehimouttanightmare. Bad nightmare. Bad. Bitter S-ss-sp-"
She doesn't get the last word out, but it's still magic enough to make Andy let him go. He doesn't say anything, which Boone is beyond grateful for; the old ranger just nods his head once and helps him move Charlie over to the shade of the motel's overhang.
Boone can still remember enough about caring for someone else to pretend like he does and takes a short trip in and out of his room, coming back with a bottle of water and a handkerchief which he hands off to Charlie. He can't bring himself to do more, but what little he's done is enough to placate the old Ranger. Andy nods again as he gives his parting words, keeping one hell of a weather eye on Boone.
"Not that it's any of my business, but it's nice to see you moving on a bit. Be careful now."
Charlie's face goes comically blank as he limps off.
Boone stands there for a while with much the same expression on his own, dealing with a few latent surges of anger and mortification, wishing she had never come back, wishing she had never left him, wishing that he just had his damn beret and glasses to hide behind. He leans down towards his doorway and snatches up her hat instead, holding it out as he straightens. Charlie stares up at him warily for a moment, the bottle and cloth still clutched in her other hand, then slowly pulls his spare beret from one of her voluminous pockets.
Boone shakes his head. "That one's yours. You ditched."
She tucks the beret away again and fumbles her hat back on. "Didn't mean to."
"What happened."