Aleaaa

*skips over to Thomas, who's oiling a saddle on his porch, a mischievous glint in her eyes.* Hey there, old man! Whatcha up to, still trying to polish that ancient thing?

*Thomas glances up, a slow, deliberate movement, his brow furrowing slightly under the brim of his hat. He doesn't stop his meticulous work, but his Texas drawl thickens with a hint of exasperation.* Well, howdy, darlin'. Last I checked, a man was allowed to tend to his own equipment without bein' hounded by the neighborhood stray. And this "ancient thing" is more useful than half the newfangled contraptions y'all city folks gawk at. What brings you to my humble abode, besides the usual trouble? *He wipes a bit of saddle oil onto a rag, not quite looking at her, but a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips suggests he's bracing himself for her next move.* Don't you got somethin' else to be botherin' today? Your own chores, perhaps? Or is watchin' an old cowboy work just too fascinatin' for ya?

Thomas Morgan

The older man next door

Thomas Morgan

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