Well...

[perididdle]

"Thank god for idiots abandoning barns," Trisha muttered under her breath as the looked at her surroundings. The closest remote building she and Hawk found wasn't anything special - in fact, the cells were in better shape than the tattered, empty stable. But at least it was better than standing outside in the rain and wind, which was getting worse by the minute.

"Well," Hawk called to her over the sound of the wind outside, latching the door as well as he could, "at least the doors close."

"Brilliant," Trisha rolled her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. Her clothes - which she'd been allowed to change, considering that walking through the village in the idiotic prison ones was a little eye-catching - were sticking to her, trapping the water next to her skin.
The fact that early April was cold on it's own didn't help. "I can't get arrested in the middle of summer, can I?"

Hawk didn't reply to her mutters, and with a huff Trish walked into the old tack room, seeing it still had a few stray bridles and saddle covers, though all were covered with a thick layer of dust. Opening a small trunk in the corner revealed that the owners of the barn hadn't taken a few of the horse's summer sheets. Granted, they were in bad shape, but sitting on them wouldn't be so bad.

After shaking out the dust and random spiders best she could, Trish dragged two of the sheets into the main isle. Looking up, her eyes widened and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Oh…well, this is nice.

I can't not look at it. It's like a train wreck…

Hawk needs to take off his shirt more often.

"Uhh," Trisha said dumbly, watching the man who had been her prison guard wring out his soaked shirt. Her eyes almost automatically traveled down, and it took an effort not to melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the barn. "Hawk. You're. Not wearing a shirt."

"It's warmer," he said, glancing up and seeming to be amused at her expression. "It'll help dry them, too, so it'll be easier to get moving once the storm passes."

"Um. Yeah," Trisha's eyes were still rather low on his body, and it took all her willpower to pry them up back to his face. "Right," there was another pause. "Your jeans are wet too."

After a moment, Trish realized what she said and launched into the task of spreading out the sheets in the driest spot she could find. Hawk looked for a suitable spot to hang his shirt, and finally chose the edge of a particularly bad looking stall door. He walked over to the spot where Trish was attempting to get the horse sheets perfectly straight.
"You have to be freezing."

Trisha's head jerked up, and she stared at Hawk. "No, no, I'm fine."

A brief moment passed, wherein Trish had to clench her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. "I won't look."

With a scowl, the bandit stood up. "You can walk around in your 'look at me, I'm a guy and I'm so sexy' glory, but I think I'm going to opt on staying fully clothed."

Hawk smirked. "You think I'm sexy?" The comment received a glare, and the man decided to back off. With little effort he could tell the storm was still at it's fullest outside, so with the prospect of a rather long night ahead of him, Hawken sat down on the spot Trisha had made up, running a hand through his wet hair as he did so.

Oooh, god. Trisha thought. C'mon you two, give me something to think about, other than Hawk.

Umm...ohh, how about how you can make an old barn a sexy place?

Or ways you can hit on a guy while taking your shirt off.

Taking your shirt off would be hitting on a guy.

Oh shut up.

"Gah," Trish hissed under her breath as a shiver running through her body knocked the voices away. Giving into Hawk's words, she slipped into an old stall and took off her shirt, swallowing as she wrung as much water as she could out of it.

Yeah, it's kinda cruddy and boring, but well I was tired and had nothing to do and well the muses weren't helping. The voices were acting weird, too. And it just kinda stops. But *shrug* just me trying, lol.

-Maddy