River brushes a light hand along the edge of the boardwalk, her eyes still on Rose. She's lucky, or she calculated well: the wind and water and sand have worn it down too much for splinters. "I'm a gunslinger."
Her other hand hangs at her side, dangling easy; dangling just where a holster would be, if she were wearing one over her loose ruffling sundress.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-04-05 05:50 am (UTC)Beat.
River brushes a light hand along the edge of the boardwalk, her eyes still on Rose. She's lucky, or she calculated well: the wind and water and sand have worn it down too much for splinters. "I'm a gunslinger."
Her other hand hangs at her side, dangling easy; dangling just where a holster would be, if she were wearing one over her loose ruffling sundress.