Thread: A Place to Hang your Hat [AnnaBeth and Sigr]

Knowing that the sheriff around those parts was a good considerate man filed in the good news department, many times she had suffered her share of friction with other law enforcement departments during her job, so knowing that this shouldn't be the case pleased her. The ride was still on its first half, and Alba was already sore at all the wrong places, feeling battered and hurt. She had tried to show a tough face, and she had a couple of scars to show that she was no tool that whined for no good reason. In the end, once the rain started to pour on them, drenching the mood and conversation, Alba did end up resorting to rest her head in Beth's back, wanting to keep them both as warm and dry as possible. Fucking finally she uttered, at the sight of the ranch, relieved that she could finally abandon that cunt torturing beast, although if she was honest it was most of her body that was hurting, specially around the thighs and back. Down the gravel road, the horse went up to the edge of the porch, where a hard looking old man was waiting. Looking and sounding like Beth's grandfather, his demeanor seemed as dry as his skin, but maybe it was just tough love. Gladly receiving Beth's help to get down that animal, Alba couldn't help but hobble a bit until she managed to shake that man's hand, following those eyes that seemed to be an experienced echo of Beth's to the porch. She was showing a bit of a frown when Beth insisted to not call her by just her name, but she chalked it up to the fact that she was just well mannered and old fashioned with her grandfather in front of her. The talk about the missing calf, the job pending and Beth's unhappy face made Alba feel guilty. It was her fault that she didn't manage to do what she was set out to do, and she may had misunderstood him, but for a moment she thought he was threatening her with a spank? Shaking her head, she looked at Beth carrying Ace and Mike back to where they belonged, turning to face Beth's grandad. Mister McCurdy, thank you for the help, it's my fault that she got sidetracked she commented, testing the waters and opting to be as respectful as she managed. I won't tell you what to do, as it shows that she's a well raised girl, but it's not her fault she decided to add, feeling bad for Beth. Maybe they do, but my family is mostly coppers, one way or the other she indulged Mr. McCurdy's notion that all Italo American people knew each other. Alba was welcomed into the homely place, making herself acquaintanced with the warm fireplace. And there she was whining about the heat just a few hours back, now seeking it to dry herself off and perhaps soften her horse riding aches. She had got to the fire so close that she hadn't paid much attention to the place, but she noticed a few family pictures atop the fireplace. I could use both the coffee and the something stronger, if not much of a bother Alba admitted, craving anything that would either keep her going, dull her pain or both. Can I use your phone so I can see if I can sort out things? she asked, being guided to the phone. The call, or more specifically series of calls as she was being bounced from desk to desk and from Marshal office to Marshal office outlasted both the hot coffee and the strong drink, and didn't quench her thirst for answers. It was already quite late, and in Boston it was two hours later, so the unfortunate skeleton crew that was still doing paperwork couldn't answer her questions. I'll have to call in the morning, sort out where the hell I'm supposed to be destined to she grunted as an explanation, slowly sitting her battered backside on the soft couch. Thank you once more for your hospitality she said to Beth's grandfather, feeling horribly tired in both body and mind.