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View character profile for: Randall Hunter
View character profile for: Django (Jan) Dragavei
Box of Rain (Wayward) Part 3
Randall and Jan were talking over drinks. Empty drinks she thought, several of them no doubt downed while she was getting cleaned up. Hannah’s loaned clothes, a pair of jeans she had to roll up and a fitted pink camo t-shirt with a Browning logo on it made her feel self conscious but that was her worry and nothing to feel ungrateful about. Fortunately she’d been able to just wipe off her sensible shoes.
A hand meant to be soothing settled on Jan’s shoulder and remained until the nun sat down. Wet hair had been pulled back and left a growing damp spot on the back of the t-shirt. “May I have a ginger ale, please?” she asked as the waitress delivered the next round.
“What do you think I could have done differently or better?” she asked.
Jan chuckled. “Stayed in… Italy? I can’t tell your accent. You did good, and you held it together downstairs, and,” he shrugged. “Shit happens.” He tried to convince himself as much as her. “But you did good, both of you. I mean, first time out and you both came back -- that’s something.”
“Thank you, Jan,” she said, not offering explanations for her accent or origin. Genevive kept his eyes the whole time, not looking away in case it made her offer of receiving criticism seem insincere. “I was not prepared with a firearm and you,” now she did look away to include Randall, “both of you had to make up for my deficiency. Thank you.” The nun waited, watching Randall, for his comments.
Randall caught himself staring at the woman. The change between what she had been wearing and what was currently wearing was too much for his mind to handle.
If a pack of vamps walked right now, they could’ve killed me, he thought.
“You’re welcome,” he said to her. “And now that you survived, you can start practicing. Not that what you did with your mojo wasn’t helpful. Sorry, that’s a carryover from my old job. Knowing how to handle a firearm went a long way in determining whether you lived to see another day.”
He looked back over at Jan
“Sorry about the age crack,” he said. “That’s how we rolled in the Rangers. I figure if you can handle a run-in with a few fangheads, you can handle a little teasing.”
Jan contemplated this for a moment, wanting to roll like they rolled in the Rangers. He chuckled. “Sore spot…. Old man.”
He gestured at a waitress who came over.
“Another one for my friend here,” he said, nodding at Jan. “I’m buying.”