"She," he corrects, in serious danger of laughing too hard to keep grooming. He pauses, anyway, makes some attempt to get his face under control. "Her name's Dulcinea. And, yeah, she's mine."
Like, okay, we can not talk about the farrier for a minute here.
She is the best girl, it's true. She only nickers at the intrusion of the stranger, flicking her tail in a way that may or may not catch Edgard.
Jim, for his part, gives her a reassuring pat for her patience before returning his attention to Edgard. As it turns out, his reprieve on farrier-related questioning was only for that one moment.
"Are you planning on telling me just how you pissed off the farrier?"
It's a strange space to operate in, the one where he's genuinely concerned about someone being shitty to Edgard, and the one where this is kind of funny. And the one where he had no idea the farrier likes mud like that? There really is someone for everyone out there — except no, he'd never wish a (potentially) bad romance on Edgard.
It sounds like such a stupid thing to say, except communication can be hard. Especially in situations like this. The question isn't judgy, just honestly curious.
At this point, he loses the battle with keeping a straight face. Who knew relationships with farriers could be so fraught? But he covers by ducking down to pick up a comb, starting on brushing one of Dulcinea's legs for her patience.
"I probably don't need to say it, but you should consider trying again. Unless you're okay with looking over your shoulder every time you're here."
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Like, okay, we can not talk about the farrier for a minute here.
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"She!" He laughs. "I should've--" He gestures to the underside of the horse. He then pats her lightly on the side. "My apologies, Madam Dulcinea."
His manner is easy and relaxed. No farrier here! Whew!
"Had opportunity to ride her much? She as good under saddle as she is on the ground?"
Dulcinea has tolerated a strange man hiding behind her and then patting her unexpectedly, what a good girl!
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Jim, for his part, gives her a reassuring pat for her patience before returning his attention to Edgard. As it turns out, his reprieve on farrier-related questioning was only for that one moment.
"Are you planning on telling me just how you pissed off the farrier?"
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Instead, he huffs a little, folds his arms over his chest and gives Holden a Look.
"Why do you assume I pissed him off?"
He lets that question lie and waits patiently for an answer.
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"Do you usually hide from people you haven't pissed off?"
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"No!" He admits defensively.
"But, in this case, yes. He is not pissed off. He is the opposite, actually."
You know what they say about people who make assumptions, Holden.
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"Do you need advice on letting guys down easy?"
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"Don't know. Maybe? Thought it was fine, great even. Now, he's--"
Edgard looks around, making sure no one hears them and whispers.
"Now he's everywhere!"
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It's a strange space to operate in, the one where he's genuinely concerned about someone being shitty to Edgard, and the one where this is kind of funny. And the one where he had no idea the farrier likes mud like that? There really is someone for everyone out there — except no, he'd never wish a (potentially) bad romance on Edgard.
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"Yes! He clings. Used to be could hardly get his attention. He didn't seem to look twice until--"
He blushes and turns away a little.
"Well now I can't get rid of him. Sometimes I just want to come here to ride a horse and that is all!"
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It sounds like such a stupid thing to say, except communication can be hard. Especially in situations like this. The question isn't judgy, just honestly curious.
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He stutters and struggles to explain. He waves his hand.
"It was a mistake to mention horses is all."
Farriers, man.
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"I probably don't need to say it, but you should consider trying again. Unless you're okay with looking over your shoulder every time you're here."
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"Would you help me go into hiding?"
He stares at Holden grooming for a long moment. A very long moment. A lot of brushing goes down before Edgard burst into a fake sounding laughter.
"You're right, should try talking again. Can't get worse, can it?"
His voice is not confident. It's clear he was not really joking.
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"No," he says, more patiently amused than malicious, "because I'd prefer it if you stayed here, personally."
And also because going into hiding to avoid one's lovers is, uh, probably not a great habit.