Response to one of the Friday prompts - Chris-Buck
“Who the hell are you?” The blond was drunk, so drunk that he was still on his feet only because he was holding on to Miss Annabelle's shoulder.
Buck stared at him, his teeth grinding together. It made speaking difficult as he repeated, “Let the lady go.”
The other man blinked, as if he didn't quite understand what Buck was saying. Maybe he didn't. He hadn't actually threatened Annabelle. But he'd latched onto her and wouldn't let her go. “Who. The hell. Are you?” he asked again, slower this time, which made the words even more slurred.
“Boys,” Annabelle said, her voice strained, “there's no need for a fight. I do have some things I -”
“I'll take care of you,” the man said, cutting her off, though his eyes never left Buck's. For all his slurring and unsteadiness, his green eyes were clear and focused, unwavering.
And the hand that wasn't clinging to her shoulder was now resting casually, too casually, on the bar. Too close to his polished pistol with its bone handle in his shiny black leather holster.
Buck stared back, knowing the man's intent. He was drunk, and angry, and ready to do something stupid. He might have been hurt recently, or, more like, he'd just changed his circumstances somehow. He didn't seem to want Annabelle, not in the way she was willing to be wanted, but he wasn't letting her go. He needed company, but not the natural things a man needed from a woman.
Buck drew a deep breath. Despite himself, he felt sorry for the sorry son of a bitch. Mostly, though, he needed to get Annabelle out of the man's way – she needed to earn a living tonight, and no matter how nice he was to her, he wasn't going to pay the bill for the whole night. He didn't look to have it on him.
Buck blinked then looked up at the ceiling, frowning. “What was that?”
The man blinked also, then he, too looked up. “What?” he said.
And Buck lashed out, one quick, hard right to jaw.
Annabelle thanked him later, in the manner of a man and a woman. The man, Chris Larabee as Buck found out the next morning when he stumbled back to his room to find said man finally waking up, didn't thank him. But he didn't shoot him.