Crystal
*Beaux is up to no good as usual, went and blew all his cash taking a chance. Now the music's shaking half the town down.*

**Contains mentions of alcohol and substance abuse as well as other cool stuff.**
Alice
*Beaux couldn't stand the silence anymore.* 
*Something was just itching away at him as he sat in his abode, all the work done for the day, dread found it's way drifting through the air. He stewed in it for a while, but he couldn't take it. With spite in his step, he got up from his rocker and stormed out the door. A man on a mission.* 

*Sure, everyone saw the posters around town. But when the night came around, the scope of it was unbelievable. No expense was spared. There was complimentary Cajun cuisine, Chicken and Tasso gumbo n' rice, smoked andouille sausage as an hors d'oeuvre along with honey mustard to dip in along a few other pieces of charcuterie. Meats, cheeses, grapes, and some warm fresh ooey gooey's picked up from the new bakery in town.*

*The spread was impressive enough. But that didn't even include the other party favors. There was booze in every variety Beaux could get his hands on. Moonshine, Bourbon, Rum, and some classic Applejack with plenty of bitters and mixers and toppers to make sure everyone was happy. Then there was Beaux's personal stash. All of that freshly cured bud prepared in almost any way you can imagine. Rolled into cigarettes and displayed all pretty in a cup, looked almost casual enough to be displaying pencils. Ground and ready to be put into personal pipes by the patrons, hell, he even had a 4 person hookah. Not to mention the horrifying new contraption that was a gas mask from the great war attached to a pipe that'd flood the eyes, lungs, and nostrils of anyone brave enough to put that deathtrap on.* 

**Then there was the lone tray of brownies that sat over in the corner.**

*Beaux's own batch.* 

*Unlabeled, Just **Begging** Some curious soul to take a bite and find out.* 

*The place was lit by gas lamps, a few had the glass painted to give off a more ambient light, especially in what was now the dance hall. What was once a living room, had been stripped of all the old rotted out furniture, and given new life. Hell, so

Meone even managed to wheel an old piano in.* 

*That's where the band set up. One on a standing double bass, one on fiddle, one on piano, one on the washboard,a guitar or two, and a few proper drums.*

*The Unmistakable Tamino Rossi working the door. Ladies got in free, of course. Lads paid 3 dollars at the door, and once you were in everything was free, so long as you behaved.* 

*But this weren't a fancy soirée, there was no dress code. No strict set of rules besides from treating others as you'd want to be treated.* 

*Then there was Beaux. No shoes, ragged old jeans, but at least he had on his classiest sleeveless shirt. Pupils wide and black, hypersensitive to everyone creek of the floor or the sound of a mice passing wind out in the yard. Heightened to a point of overwhelming awareness and consciousness. Sure, he greeted the first few guest. But after a while, he was busy as can be. Blazing through the place like a bat outta hell, grinning like the devil.* 

*He'd drink, smoke, singing n' dancing to everyblues song he knew by heart. Jazz narrating the energy of the room, freely flowing between tunes, Playing with all his might to drown out the noise and live for now, living like he might not see tomorrow.* 

*He kept it up for a good three hours, dancing between instruments, playing keys and strumming strings, a blur of radical strawberry blonde setting the house ablaze at the peak of the musical madness, taking brief breathers to play a slow tune. But the music never stopped. Eventually, he just took a bow, and slipped back into the crowd, handing off the torch to another local musician to take his place.* 

*He weaved and crept his way out the back door, To a little peace. Late at night, or was it early morning now? Beaux didn't really care.* 

*He just slipped away under the stars, going walk through morning dew in his garden. Taking a breath of fresh air, and lighting a smoke.*

*For a minute there, it almost felt like Bourbon Street again.*
William
It wasn't like Bo to check his traps so late at night, but his errands in town ran long and it wasn't good to leave any kills sitting overnight. Still, Bo hoped he didn't spook the wrong person as he made his way through the dense forest with his shotgun strapped to his back and only his memory and the thin light of the moon to guide him. 

Could it have waited till morn'? Absolutely. Especially so since every trap Bo checked was licked clean by some mischievous young buck or still baited perfectly pristine. Crummy results didn't put Bo in the best of moods but it wasn't the worst he'd ever had — and the weeks back in Briar Ridge had allowed him to restore his essentials so it wasn't like he'd starve tonight. This was his last trap for the night to check — empty, great — and then Bo could follow the lights from the town to get back on the main path back up to his cabin on the ridge. 

He prided himself on knowing the path well enough, even in the dark, but Bo wasn't going to risk a twisted ankle and fall into the brambles if he could avoid it. 

Which is what he would have done if he hadn't heard the unmistakable sound of music thumping through the woods. He followed the sound, curious, until the noise was so loud that even the nearby trees seemed to *Thrum* With the energy. Oh, right, this was that Beaux's place wasn't it? Bo didn't normally come this way since it was a wide breath from his usual trapping path and in the opposite direction from town, but there was no harm in lookin' he supposed. 

Though it seemed Bo was approaching from the backyard rather than the front entrance. He kept a wide range, just in case anyone got spooked, but there was just one lone figure standing out in the gardens — and this was a face Bo knew since it was a man shaped by circumstances not too far from his own. 

"Evenin'!" Bo called out when he got close enough, making sure he approached in loud, heavy stomps. "Just passin' through to check on the huntin' path."
Alice
*Beaux weren't so much as scared, more so just surprised. Surprised enough to make him choke on a puff of smoke. But, seeing a somewhat familiar figure, he managed to keep his eyes from popping straight out of his face. Politely blowing it out the side of his mouth away from Bigfoot over here. Of course he didn't say that out loud though. But he thought about it. Made him giggle a little.* 

"Hey neighbor. You're working awful late tonight. I don't believe we formally met yet? I'm Beaux. I've seen you trapping up here a few times, never wanted to interrupt." 

*Beaux extended a hand for shaking. He smelt of sacred herbs, and smoke, and garlic, and celery, and bell peppers, and cayennes, and diced onions, and smoked Tasso, and butter, and chicken, and sausage, and a decadent flour based roux fueled by broth. Served with rice. With hot sauce even?* 

"Say, what does a guy do for fun around here?" *Beaux would pose the question. Eagerly awaiting a response from Sasquatch's distant cousin.*
William
Bo came close enough to shake the young man's hand with a bit of a mischievous smile. "'Fraid I know you, buckaroo, but only because we seem to share a name. Name's Bo Luppe. Nice to finally greet ya." He couldn't remember who made the connection first because everyone Bo talked with eventually came to the same conclusion and thought it was the funniest thing since sliced bread. It wasn't enough to make Bo start going by his given name of Bruno, though. Only his Ma and the Lord could call him by that name. They alone had earned the right. 

"Sounds to me like the latest hot thing has been tryin' to avoid gettin' mauled by wolves," Bo answered Beaux's second question with a deeper cut to his crooked smile, still not sure how to feel about the whole thing but sure enough that something was happening to cut a joke about it. "But I'd say if anyone was lookin' to have fun, they'd probably be here. You've got quite the rager goin' on in that place of yers." 

Even being hard of hearing, Bo already felt too close to the noise. The shivers that the music sent rumbling through the ground and shaking the trees was unnerving and he shifted nervously where he stood, like a horse that felt incoming danger. The War had bombarded Bo with enough constant noise that it still unnerved him whenever his environment was too loud with anything that wasn't birdsong or the heavy fall of rain. He wasn't ever one for parties much anyway. "Even besides, people have fun the same way here that they do in big cities, just on a smaller scale; booze, thrill-seekin', or competition will get any heart pumpin'."
Alice
"Hardy Har-Har. Look how hard I'm laughing." *Beaux would sarcastically reply. But despite his tone, the remark did still earn a little grin. He never really had a problem laughing at himself. It might as well have been plastered right on the front of the papers at this point. It seemed like everyone knew.* 

"I don't know that I've met another Bo before. We should start a club. Roll call would be a little complicated though." *Beaux would tap the ash off the end of his skunky cigarette and give the other a once over. Stewing in deep consideration for a moment.* 

"Why don't you come inside? Fix a bowl of gumbo, take a break from the traps. A Big man has got to eat. You've gotten this far already. Something tells me you're gonna be popular in there. The sight of you ought to get some hearts pumpin' n' thumpin'."

 *Beaux would egg him on, playfully bumping Bo with his shoulder at the mention of pumping and thumping. The long haired man looking up at the giant with hopeful eyes.*
William
Just as he thought, this Beaux was a relaxed sort of fella who at least could take a joke. And even jab at Bo with his own! That was a nice, refreshing change that Bo couldn't help but grin at. The young man got one thing right — he did love to eat, and he the last time he had gumbo was already too long back. 

Had to be at the Kentucky fair last summer, when the air was so hot the bowl of gumbo in his hands felt like it would start boiling. The stall shelling out gumbo had a variety of options but Bo was always a sucker for shellfish when he could get 'em and this bowl had been chock full of the goodies; shrimp, crab, a handful of mussels even. 

Bo had still yet to see the ocean with with his own two eyes but he could taste it in the flesh of the shellfish, salty and mysterious, so unlike any common river fish in every way. His eyes would water like hell from the spices but damn, he wouldn't ever turn down a bowl of gumbo. 

Unless that bowl of gumbo was trapped in a house of noisy, loud young things. Bo glanced past Beaux's shoulder into the heart of the house and already felt his head aching at the thought of diving in there. The noise was good noise — music and laughter, Bo reminded himself, as if that would help — but the thrum of it was just constant enough to make his heart squeeze with terror. "Party like that ain't my scene," Bo started as he dragged his gaze back to Beaux's expectant gaze, "....Don't suppose I could ask you for a bowl for the road, though?" 

||
Alice
*Beaux's heart ached a tinge hearing Bo's response. But, he trusted that he had his reasons. He didn't plan on pulling the big fella in by his ear, despite how bad he wanted to, so he just nodded.* 

"I suppose, I suppose." *Beaux huffed a theatric little sigh. Like it was such a cumbersome task.* 
"Don't go nowhere. I'll be right back." 

*Beaux would tap his guest on the arm before stepping off, hopping up his steps and greeting Tamino on the porch. Letting him know how good a job he was doing before slipping inside and making his way to the kitchen.* 

*A short while later, Beaux would return with a steaming bowl in hand and a cup of coffee. A few more treats haphazardly stacked on his arm. He'd wave Big Bo over as he sat down and let his legs dangle off the far end of the porch. Still in good view of the landscape, just a bit closer to the music and in outcasted light from the house.* 

"Chicken and Tasso gumbo, and a fresh brownie for our gentle giant." 

*He'd offer him the bowl, and a little special brownie wrapped in paper for the road. Sure it wasn't quite a seafood gumbo, but Beaux almost always preferred it that way. Something about smoked meats in a roux just brought about a warmth that seafood couldn't seem to compare to. Besides, real fresh seafood can be hard to come by. Of course there was still plenty of peppers and herbs and spices, an extra meat or two, but it didn't quite roll off the tongue quite like Chicken n' Tasso.* 

"We got all kinds of drinks and stuff inside too if you need. Just holler at me." *Beaux would sip at his coffee. Eventually dipping his own brownie into it before taking a bite.* "Fun kind I should say." 

"So, where'd you blow in from?"
William
Bo got himself settled on the porch next to his companion for the evening. Even at the end of the porch the music was still loud, but the gumbo in hand was enough to distract Bo for the time being. He hadn't ever had gumbo that wasn't chock full of seafood before, so it was different, but Bo found himself still enjoying it all the same. Where were they supposed to get fresh shellfish this far into Virginia, anyhow? It was probably for the best. You couldn't just throw any damn fish in a pot of gumbo and call it a day. There was an order to this sort of thing. 

"Stuff's good," Bo said sometime after his third bite of the gumbo, "Your chef knows how to make a mean gumbo." Big man like him, it didn't take Bo long to clean his bowl. It was a wonder he didn't lick it clean with how he was going at it. That just meant the brownie was left — and though Beaux had wrapped it nearly in paper for the road, that didn't stop Bo from picking it up and starting to eat that, too, piece by piece. 

Being in the forest for as long as he had been, Bo was *Starving*. All the errands he had to run didn't allow him a chance to grab a bite and he was hoping a trap or two would give him something quick to cook up. But they didn't, so this was hitting the spot sweetly. 

"'m from Kentucky if that's what yer askin'. Life dragged me here and here I've been since. What about you? Gumbo's southern food — more southern than here. Take it too far up and people can't handle the spice a lick." Bo grinned at the thought and tore off another piece of the brownie to eat. Gumbo was best sitting in the belly but chocolate was worth savoring on the tongue. "Actually, might be runnin' that risk even havin' it here."
Alice
"Thank you, Thank you. My Momma taught me everything I know." *Beaux would give the credit to where it was truly due. It almost made him homesick talking about old recipes and his sweet ol' Momma back home. Not to mention sitting on an old wooden porch under the moon like he did many many times before. It made him miss old times, when things were okay. When he was just young and sweet and everything was just so much simpler. Like before the war.* 

*The other half of him, well, was just trying to hold it together seeing Bo unsuspectingly eat away at that Brownie. Doing his best not to smile too wide. Now, it was just a matter of time. The merry little prankster just had to do his best to make sure the big fella would stick around under his watchful eye.* 

*So, he kept up. Bite for bite. Until he just finished it off and washed it down with coffee. Of course this was his second brownie of the night among other things so he had a little head start. But he was handling it remarkably well. Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Of course, it'd come on a little stronger in time. It always hits harder when you eat it, don't you know?* 

"Just follow the Mississippi all the way south until you hit the gulf. That's about where I'm from. I've kinda stomped all through that mucky area between Texas and Mississippi but I've always been just about a stones throw away from the beautiful brown, muddy waters of Louisiana." *He said, with a **Pinch** Of sarcasm.* "I think this's the farthest north I've ever been. But Kentucky-huh? You know how to pick any of that bluegrass I've been hearing about?"

*By this point, Beaux was sitting like a child. Criss-cross-applesauce, leaning back against the post and clutching his coffee close. Trying to pick at the other's brain and see just what kind of man he was.*
William
The way Beaux spoke made Bo wonder if he fancied himself an 'old-soul' as they called it. Talking with him made Bo feel that way, anyhow, like he was talking with someone his age instead of someone he was sure was a near decade younger (if not more). Maybe it was the travels Beaux mentioned — or maybe what he found on the roads between. 

Bo took another bite of his brownie in contemplation. 

"This is the furthest south I've ever been. I've near tapped Canada once or twice just to say I did but otherwise the rest of this American land is unknown to me." Funny how their travels complimented each other like that — though it sounded like the both of them needed to go see the Western wilds ones of these days. Bo would buy a cowboy hat and everything. 

"Bluegrass doesn't grow high enough for pickin' half the time. Makes for terrible hay because of it so it's best to just let it be." Bo sucked the chocolate from his thumb before adding, "You can make a mean grass-whistle from it though. Better than any other state, promise. Sound carries twice as far and sounds twice as pretty, too."