Maria
It was uncharacteristic of Wesley not to take his morning coffee at home, quietly surveying the treeline from his back porch. The last few nights at home had been particularly unbearable, and he could count on both hands the hours of sleep he'd gotten that week. Having elected to come to the diner for breakfast instead of taking it at home was as much for him as it was an effort to take the load off of his mother, who insisted on taking up breakfast duties even as she declined in health.

He'd arrived at the diner feeling positively irritable and near-completely nonverbal. By his second cup of coffee, Wesley had begun to relax a little, settling into his seat and staring out at the dirt road outside. As his mind got into rhythm for the day, his thoughts drifted once more to his campaign for mayor. He'd thrown his hat in the ring on something of an impulse, but as time had passed, he'd grown passionate about the idea of leadership. It felt like the sort of external purpose for which he had been searching – a way to slot himself permanently into the role of helper, of leader, of *Man to trust, man to come to when in need, man you can count on.* As far as Wesley was concerned, such a position was the role of a lifetime, a part he intended to play with brilliant dedication.

There were, though, many things of which he was deeply uncertain – for he was only one man, and in the face of the mountain and the forest and the changing world, he knew all too well that he only had so much power. 

He had plans to make.
_ _

Wesley hummed quietly to himself as he attempted to organize his train of thought for the day, settling into the questions he knew he'd have to answer, the weaknesses he knew he needed to improve. He wished sorely then for a friend with any sort of knowledge on the matter, and examining his life, felt woefully alone, having lost most of his friends to time or more carnal interests. There certainly was some isolation to be found in loyalty, whether it was to a town, a friend, or something else entirely. He took a long sip of his coffee and squinted out the window into the gray March light, already planning his next moves for the day.
Mary
*Strangers were becoming more and more common around Briar Ridge. Not all of them would last, and some would tumble out just as fast as they'd tumble in.* 

*Speaking of strangers tumbling about, almost as if right on cue, the bell above the door clanged as a stranger stumbled in from the street.* 

*There wasn't much to the lad, he was beaten and weary from the road, his shaggy hair dangled into his face, he could use a change of clothes and probably a decent bath, but he had a charm about him. Whether it be a good luck charm, or a bad luck charm, a bit dependent on the eye of the beholder. He was certainly a traveler, but not quite a wanderer. He had a certain mission in mind.* 

*He carried with him a singular leather bag, that held just about everything he owned. He set it down with a thud and had himself a seat at the bar, far off in the corner.* 

*He was tired, almost falling asleep on his single over easy egg and toast. Coffee barely working it's usually magic on him.* 

*What really woke him up though, is when the bill came.* 

*He dug through his pockets, through his bag, checked his sock even. He was still short. It didn't take a telescope to see it hurt his pride. Part of him wanted to just get up and run, but he held onto his honesty.* 

"I... D-don't have it right now. I'm not too proud to work though, I-I'll sweep, prep, peel potatoes, whatever you need me to do." *Jackson lowly tried to reason with the waitress, who tried not to judge, but her eyes spoke.* 

"Let me check with the boss and see what we can do." *She mused, and scampered off to the back. Leaving Jackson hanging his head, and wiping up yolk with toast but not quite mustering up the courage to just finish it. He was too lost in his own mind.*

*He was close. He had to remind himself that. He was just too damn close to give up.*
Maria
Oh, wow. Whoever the stranger was who'd just shown up at the diner, Wesley's heart ached just looking at him. He was nothing if not a little brother, and had mastered the art of looking innocuous while in fact very much eavesdropping, and it was this quiet surveillance that led to his digging around in his own pockets before he knew it. 

"I can cover it," Called Wesley to the waitress as she was walking away. She gave him a quizzical look, surprised to see him settling into the seat opposite Jackson. Wesley was quick to hand her the necessary change, plus extra for the coffee, of which he was surely about to need another cup.

"If my friend here doesn't mind, of course. And could we both git some refills, too, ma'am?" He asked sweetly, smiling up with his best *Somebody's-son* Eyes. Bemused, but accommodating nonetheless, the waitress disappeared to brew the coffee. In the meantime, Wesley adopted a gentle expression. He made sure no pity was present on his face – nothing but kindness. 

"She's awful nice," He opened. "Just tired, is all. Lucky you didn't get Granny. You new to town, or comin' back after a while gone?"

The stranger in front of him looked decidedly worse for the wear, but the instinct in Wesley to sense hostility was totally dormant when he beheld the man before him, who didn't look like he'd seen a decent bed or a bath in weeks, at least. If Wesley was being honest, his suspicion of newcomers in general was at an all-time high. There was, admittedly, a part of him which wanted to 'vet' the man on the other side of the table – and it was absolutely because there was nothing threatening about him at face value.

For the most part, though... Wesley found himself oddly charmed by the earnestness of the man's attempts to pay. His intent was made clear. Wesley only hoped the stranger's pride wasn't injured by his gesture.
Mary
*Jackson's eyes bounced up hearing a third voice join the bunch. Only to be properly flattered.* "You didn't have to do that... But thank you. I owe you one." 

*Jackson would peer back to the stranger across from him. Carefully analyzing for a moment as he drank down his black coffee, without even a blink. He wasn't typically quick to trust, but the gesture made a good impression on him.* 

"I'm new here." *He started, gently setting his cup down.* 

"I'm a runaway. Told my people I was going off to join the army. That was a lie, obviously." *Jackson started telling his tale, without the bat of an eye, being loose with the truth. It might not be pretty, but it was his story and he'd sure as hell tell it like it was. The least he could do was be honest with the man paying for his meal. He'd take a moment to chow down the last bite or two.* 

"But, I got family here. My sister is a transplant too, supposedly holed up somewhere 'round here. I have hopes of staying with 'er for a while. So there's a chance I'll get to be regular here. It'd be nice to have the chance to pay you back sometime, Mister..?" 

*Jackson trailed off, hoping to find a name to accompany the face of this kind man. Judging by his intuition, Wes was a bit older and wiser than him, but not quite **Old** Old. He still looked healthy, in his prime, so he couldn't be too far off.*
Maria
He'd never had an intention of being anything *But* Friendly, but boy, was Jackson lucky he'd encountered Wesley and not someone more opportunistic. He was also more naive than he looked, announcing so boldly his status as a runaway. As Jackson spoke, Wesley maintained a polite expression, though internally he was a little surprised. 

"I'm Wesley Gray," He answered, reaching across the table to offer a handshake. "I'm a shepherd and a farmer, mostly." He spoke with an even, gentle voice, the kind he usually reserved for his girls when they were ailing. There was a sensitivity about the young man before him that Welsey could practically feel. His smile was a patient thing as it bloomed across his mouth.

"Briar Ridge's the perfect place for anyone lookin' to start over, so you're in good company here. Me, though, I'm a local. My family owns the farm in the east hills. And I reckon I know just about everybody in this town, courtesy of my mama n' her friends," He continued. "What's your name, and who's your sister?"
Mary
"Jackson, Jackie Grant." *He'd gladly reach up and give a respectably firm handshake. Not soft like a limp fish, not with crushing weight like he had something to prove, just right in that sweet spot.* 

"My Sister's Jade Grant. Our parents had a thing for the J's apparently." *Jackson would answer sweetly, Wesley's infectious smile spread it's way to the Grant boy. There was a certain tenderness to Wesley's mannerisms that just tickled Jackson pink. Just something about him... Jackson finished off his coffee to keep his mind from wandering.* 

"Shepherd huh? I used to deal with sheep a bit back home. Not quite like you though I imagine. Most of 'em were slaughtered by the time they got to me. " *That definitely got his wheels turning. He was familiar with sheep, inside and out. Though he did less of herding, and more on the end of butchering work on the side, eventually his luthier work tied into it to, having pulled strings from gut and carving bridges, nuts, and pins from their bones. He knew how to use every bit of a sheep from nose to hoof. It took getting used to, but it was honest work. Dirty, honest work.*

*It seemed like such a small world, sheep needed guidance everywhere. It was almost poetic.*
Maria
He took Jackson's handshake and met it with a firm, callous-ridden one of his own.

"Jade Grant," Wesley repeated, chuckling. "No kiddin'. Awfully small word. As it happens, Miss Jade and I are well-acquainted. She's the librarian, as a matter of fact. Not too far from the biggest oak tree in town. Schoolhouse is down that way, too. You can't miss it." 

Wesley reached for a long and thoughtful sip of his coffee, pondering his next words. The young man before him looked thoroughly lost, symptomatic of that age group. He must have been in his early twenties, maybe a little older. It was only natural for him to be wandering, unhappy with his circumstances and looking to change them. Wesley understood all too well the desire to uproot oneself in search of different soil, but his was the dutiful hero's path. He would remain in Briar Ridge until his heart gave out. 

"You a butcher, then?" He continued, smiling. "Might find yourself a job down at the butcher's shop. Emery Aiken's the owner. Real nice person. They shouldn't give ya any trouble." Wesley's smile was easy and polite, that of a shepherd without the kind of flock he actually wanted. It wasn't that he *Wanted* Power — but if he won the election, he would have it, and he could use it to keep Briar Ridge safe.

"Your sister ain't expectin' you, is she?" He asked then. "You came at a damned good time. Been goin' through it, Miss Jade has. She's all good n' safe, nothin' like that, but... It'll do her some good to see family, I think."
Mary
"That right?" *Jackson was pleasantly surprised, everyone really knows everybody in small towns, but nonetheless he was happy to hear confirmation that he was stomping around the right place.* 

"Yeah I have been, more or less. I'm kind of whatever's paying at the moment." *Jackson spoke, before rubbing along the underside of his jaw. A bit unsure of what title really stuck to him.* 

"But I enjoyed luthier work a bit more at home. Fixing and Making guitars, banjos, fiddles n' such. It's like the crossroads of woodwork and butchering. Brutal, yet elegant." *He took the time to spill a bit about his passions before he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the table. A bit more engaged.* 

"She sent a letter, but I just started here before sending one back. So it's a fair surprise for her." *Jackson responded before taking on a more somber tone.* 

"She is okay though? Is it something I should know about?" 

*He really did worry about his sister, and his faced spoke it. They had always had each other's back. Jackie had just started to learn proper restraint when it came to his temper , but for Jade He'd be more than ready to squash some issues if need be.*
Maria
Wesley's smile was an easy thing to behold. He wore it well, and listened along with genuine enthusiasm as Jackson shared about himself, perhaps inspired by Wesley's familiarity with Jade.

"No kiddin'!" Echoed Wesley. "You're in good company. My brother and I have been fiddlin' for years. Ought to come down to the speakeasy some time and perform with us," He offered. 

Jackson seemed to be coming out of his shell — folk who'd been through some things needed to be coaxed out sometimes, and Wesley was more than happy to give patience to the younger man. In spite of looking a little older than a teenager, Jackson still carried with him that awkward uncertainty which spoke to a childhood he had yet to shake off.

At the question, though, Wesley elected to give Jade the opportunity to explain it herself. 

"Naw, I don't think so," He sighed, "But she sure will be glad to see you. Matter of fact, her place is just down the road. If you see that big oak down there —" Wesley paused, pointing out the window. "—and turn right, she's in the little cottage with the white fence."
Mary
"You know, I might just have to take you up on that. Been a while since I got to play along with good folks. I'll be sure to, soon as I've got something strung up." *Jackson chirped, and a impressed grin spread onto his cheeks. He had barely got the chance to play with his church band on Sundays back home without kickback from his dad. Much less a speakeasy group, and he had been here all of 30 minutes. He knew he'd come to like this place. It certainly had charm.* 

*His eyes trailed and followed Wesley's directions as he pointed out the way to Jade's. Then, Jackie bounced to his feet eager to find his way. But he just managed to hold his horses.* 

*Without much thought, he'd plop down next to Wes and wrap his arms around him, squeezing him into a hug. It was simply the best way for him to show his appreciation at that moment. Though, it'd all come back greater in time.* 

"Thanks again, Mister Gray. This all means more than you could possibly know. I'll still owe you breakfast one mornin'. Don't let me forget it."