Summary:Hank and Betty meet some goons at a fair. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
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Bright and early in the Big Apple, close to 9AM on the day before Easter, and Hank has already been up several hours, he'd pulled another shift at the Tolliver clinic, where he volunteers, and then afterwards spent a few hours at New York University dealing with some Q&A from his last speaking engagement, updating his wiki site from a guest office.
Well content with the night's work, and not even a bit sleepy, he calls Betty…she's awake by 9, right? Usually.
With a groan and a roll of her body, Betty fumbles about for her phone before pulling it to her face and answering it. At first, it only keeps buzzing and ringing. Squinting, she pulls the device away and then presses the green button to answer it. Trying again, she clears her throat. "Hello?"
"Oh bother, I woke you." Hank's rich voice comes over the phone. "Still. I'll be home in a bit, if you were to get dressed I'd love to take you out for breakfast, forgive me for waking?"
"Hank?" She murmurs in question, rolling over to notice that massive side of the bed had been left empty. And a bit chilly. "Baby, why didn't you come home?" A yawn, she shifts in under the covers and nods, even though he can't see it. "Dressed? Sure, I can do that." A beat. "You ok?"
"Hank." He agrees. "Sorry, I got asked to cover a night shift at the Tolliver clinic—I thought I texted, but it was late." If she checks, there is in fact a Text on her phone from like minutes after she went to sleep. "Anyway, afterwards I swung by NYU to take care of a few things, didn't mean to worry you. Pick you up in about thirty?"
"Mmhmm." She agrees, still a bit dopey and drowsy. "Love you." She then hangs up. The woman looks at her phone, blinks heavily and slumps back down upon the bedding. A pillow to hug close, a layer or so of linens, the dirty-blonde with beads woven in her hair dozes off.
Hank drives home — he likes the sound of that — he's never had a home he shared with anyone before, that's a blessing for him every time he thinks about it, and then he chuckles to himself when there's no lights on. Parking Bessy, he heads up the stairs to their place (Yay!) and enters through the bazillion and a half locks. Eyes of yellow gleam, backlit by green as he looks, and then he sniffs and can scent his girl in their oversized bed.
A soft smile, and he enters, the settles onto her side of the bed, hand bracing over past her shoulders as he leans down to kiss Betty.
"Morning, sleepy head."
Another grumble, her face makes a few twitches and wrinkles at the tickling sensation of his fur. Smirking, she moves a hand up and palms his face before lightly pushing it back. "I'll eat breakfast when I'm dead." She mutters and attempts to hide her face under another pillow. After a moment longer, she muffles out. "Good morning."
"You realize that's impossible, right?" Hank teases, and then he grins as she pushes his face back. He allows the pillow, but then moves the covers and picks her up in a bridal carry, pillow and all. "Do you want to sleep some more?" The big brat croons at her…and expecting to get swatted, probably with the pillow, but there's significant odds of actual smacking. Adds spice!
"Wrong!" She sparks out. "When I die I'll go to Valhalla or something, I think. I'll sit in the Golden Halls and eat all the pancakes I want. Just you watch." She explains as she pulls the pillow away. What good would it do now? She was off the bed and away from the warmth it held. Sighing, she looks his way and turns her head inward. Against his chest, she closes her eyes once more. "Mmmm, no…I can wake up. Missed you, though." She murmurs. "Where we going?"
A warm rumble of laughter. "I stand corrected, thank you for setting me straight, Citizen Brant." Man that's kind of nice, the laughter she could feel, and even if the covers aren't warm /he/ is. "I suppose it depends on how you die, does it not? Valhalla is reserved for those who die in battle if my recollection is correct, still, as a priestess…the rules might be different." A chuckle. "Maybe if you die in battle you'll get a time-share option between Fenrisheim, if there is such a thing, and Valhalla?"
He is absolutely NOT making fun of her faith. Though that is an amusing image, what would she do, take a bus?
"I am sorry, love. There was a real need for extra help at the clinic, the normal doctor on that shift came down ill, and they needed /someone/."
Hank smiles then. "Well, after you shower and change, we'll be going to Granny Appleton's, if you're in mind for pancakes?"
"Y'know, I never asked. I'll have to make sure some type of weapon is in my hand at all times."
"I'm not upset with you, Hank. You did what you had to do, that's your job." She nods and eventually slips down from his grip. "Fine, fine, I'll go get ready, then." A beat. "Is this a casual day or a pretty day?"
"Excellent…be prepared." Hank says with a grin and approval in his tone.
"Mm…also, I've been a laggard, need to get your signature on some paperwork adding you as my SO and beneficiary and such, add you to my benefits at RESCUE." Oh, /that/ is new! The brat, he didn't even say anything.
And then he just looks at her when she questions, once she's set down. Eyes of yellow are bright, his smile broad. "Every day is a pretty day when Betty is involved." A grin. "But, yes, please do wear something nice but not formal, I'm going to get changed myself." He's still in scrubs!
"Your…Henry." She stalls out. Hearing turns like SO and beneficiary were a bit heavy for her. Benefits? RESCUE? "You…RESCUE? Did you…" Then she gives him that small swat against his arm. The touch of it like a brush on the wind. "You got a new job and didn't tell me?!" A huff, she shakes her head. "You owe me more than pancakes for that one, Mr. Henry Philip McCoy!"
Then she goes to change as requested, after a shower of course. Dressed in a navy blouse, complete with warm jacket and scarf, she brushes down the legs of her jeans before slipping into fur-lined boots that stretch up to her knees. Heeled, of course. A brush of her hair (that was pre-dried, no sense in risking a cold!), she waits in the living room. Looking into a mirror on the wall, she smoothly applies a layer of crimson over her lips.
Hank laughs when she swats him. "I did. I didn't. I do." Hank smiles warmly. "Will an 'I love you' be adequate to secure a stay of execution? After breakfast we could go to the Essex county fair, about an hour drive?" He smiles. "They'll have some live music, terrible food, arts and crafts…I haven't been to a fair for some time, thought it might be a nice day to spend."
A glance away from the mirror, she eyes after Hank and muses. "I do adore terrible food. Get me some junk at the fair and you're on. No executions today." She promises and slips her lipstick back into her purse. Walking over his way, heels clicking, she brushes down his jacket and straightens his collar. "Ready when you are, handsome."
"Excellent, corn dogs on a stick, bad beer, and deep fried dough covered in sugar promised." A firm nod. "You have a deal, m'dear."
Hank's jacket is white, and he has a hat to match with a broad brim. "Don't forget a sun hat, I have sunblock already, got it on the way home." He stands straight to let her primp him a tad, and then kisses her cheek so as not to muss her freshly applied lip gloss just yet. A ridiculously florid bow, his knuckles brushing the floor, and then he offers Betty his arm. "M'lady fair, shall we away to the restaurant and then the faire?"
"You know, I want a candy apple, too. Maybe some cotton candy? Granted, I am a huge sucker for fresh donuts and funnel cake." One of which was already promised. Resting back within her seat as they start to drive away from the city, Betty looks out the window at the world passing by.
"Why didn't you tell me you got a new job? Slip that busy brain if yours?"
"We'll get all the destructive, empty, sugary calories available…and plenty of cheap beer to wash it down with. It will be like teenagers on a lark, mm? I never got to do that before, I want the whole experience." Hank queues up some country music on Bessy's obnoxiously awesome sound system, but the volume is low so it is not obtrusive.
After a moment, he nods. "In part it slipped my mind, yes. I am still sort of probationary, recently made a bad call - but I -think- things are on track again. One nice thing though, they know you there, and there's no restrictions on access to the facility, so you can visit. Granted there's a lot of areas we can't go to, but you can come by if you'd like."
"I-" she stalls for a moment, still watching the blur outside her window. Breakfast was nice, but it was time to get out and to their actual goal for the day. Turning her head his way, she offers him a gentle smile and looks forward. "I don't know if I want to go back there. Especially if it's the same facility. I just…it feel odd." She murmurs, her voice heavy with apology.
"You…really want me on that paperwork, though? What about your parents?"
Hank nods understanding, eyes shifting to study Betty in the rearview mirror, before he continues. "Of course, I can understand that." And he does. He reaches a massive hand over, to rest it on one of hers, fingers splayed so she can grip as she sees fit.
"Betty, I understand you told them at RESCUE you were my fiance." He says carefully. "Was that…do you /want/ that?" A soft smile. "As to my parents, they're in my will, and yes, also on the beneficiary list. Yes. I want you cared for in my absence." He says finally.
"I did?" She asks, her fingers wrapping around one of his own. "I did." She remembers. "In my vision, I remember a finger on my ring." She laughs and shakes her head. "I mean a ring on my finger. I knew you were there and was speaking as my mind was telling me to. I think…I think it wasn't in line with the current? Like I knew, it knew, it would happen. The when had shifted." A look at their hands, she gives a squeeze and keeps her eyes set on the road ahead of them.
"Do I want that? We haven't been together that long. We have things we need to work out still." She explains. "I-I do want that I just…I'm terrified of it, too. Like, being signed to your paper work. It's so…finite. Serious." A scoff. "Please don't say 'in my absence.' Gods bless, Hank. I don't…" Want to think that. But it makes sense. "I get it. You and I lead dangerous lives. Even if we didn't do what we do, the world is a dangerous place."
A snort at the ring finger reversion, the rest of his fingers lightly covering her hands as she holds to his finger. Might get a bit sweaty in time, but still, warm and affectionate. Hank nods, and his eyes are kind as he leans over to kiss her cheek, maybe a little sloppily, hey—he's keeping an eye on the road too!
"We do have things to work out, I agree. It is good to know that you want that…Catseye didn't even bat an eye when she heard you'd said it - offered to go ring shopping with me." Hank says with a faint flush.
A squeeze to her hand. "It is very final, and we do lead dangerous lives, but yes. We'll get the paperwork done later, for now lets just focus on having a good day together, shall we?"
Chuckling, she smirks. "I'm sorry. I…don't know who that is. I should make an effort to know more people in your life." Sometimes, time just didn't allow it. Nodding, she listens. Surely, they'd get the paper work done. All together. Finalized.
"Henry, is that something you want?" She asks at length. "To take another jump forward?"
"Sharon Frost, adopted daughter of Emma Frost…an old friend, one of my students, and former lab assistant. I believe she was there during…the incident, the cat-girl?" A smile. "We'll have to invite all my friends over to have dinner or something, I want you to know my world, the people in it, no more secrets…or as few as I can manage." A pause, and then he nods. "I have been thinking about it for a while now, Betty. But I don't want to rush you, rush /this/. And we DO have things to work out, but that said - yes, I think I'd very much like to have you be Betty Brant-McCoy, or even Betty McCoy, or whatever name you wish to keep." Hank is not going to insist. "Yes. I'd like to someday marry you, start a family, the whole nine yards."
"I'd like that. To know more about your world and the people in it. The house is big enough, we could have your friends and companions over sometime." Pause. "I should ask Steve and Bucky if they'd like to join us. We still need to have a double date with them at some point."
"Perhaps Fenris and Astryd, too? Lady Sif maybe, if she's free." A merging of worlds, it seems.
Silence falls within the vehicle, swallowed up by the sound of Bessy motoring along and the soft hum of country twang in the background. At length, she grips to his fingers. "Yes." She says gently. "Whenever you ask…yes."
"Great, we'll do it in shifts." Hank says with a warm chuff of laughter. After all, he's got a lot of friends. "Have board games and food and drink. It will be /fun/." Hank grins toothily at the double date thing. "Captain America and the Winter Soldier, seems like an odd couple, but…they really love each other, mm?" He can't even conceive of Cap being less than an 'all in' sort of guy. "And I'd love to meet your Patron deity, and his friend, and the Lady Sif…I confess, that is exciting to contemplate, to meet figures out of myth and legend."
And then, when she says yes, he looks at Betty, and pulls the car over. Reaching into his jacket he takes out a small jewelry box, white in hue. He offers it, eyes very earnest and perhaps a bit tremulous.
Inside? An antique ring, nothing fancy but clearly old, in loving repair. "My grandmother's ring." Nothing fancy, but oh…so precious.
"Very much so. I…still can't believe I'm actually friends with someone like Steve Rogers. My mom would have gotten a kick out of it. Hell, I still do." She smiles. "He's pretty dear to me." They've been through a few things together, as is. "Oh, Astryd isn't his friend, she's his…eternal companion." She explains. That'll work. "I'll have to offer them the invitation. Perhaps even Lady Sigyn and Lord Loki." So many people!
Then the car is pulling over. "Hank? Everything ok?" A dig into a pocket, a small box made all the smaller within his palm. Then a ring. Blinking, she looks it over and feels that familiar sting to her eyes. "Henry…" she trails off. Laughing, she swallows. "I hope you weren't going to plant this in my funnel cake. We'd have to take a very awkward trip to the ER if you had." Her fingers shake as she reaches out and claims it. "Sh-do you want me to wear it now?"
"I'm sure I've seen him around, don't know if we've ever spoken though." Hank grins at the correction about Astryd. "Ah, well, whatever she is, I want to meet them. And everyone dear to you, if you meet my circle of people only fair I get to meet yours in turn, dear heart."
Hank nods at the question, too emotional to say anything. She said yes! That just keeps short-circuiting his big brain. "ER? Nonsense, sure, I'm still in residency but I /am/ a doctor." Six more months and he'll be a full MD! "That said…I didn't want to risk it. No, I just…I've been carrying it for weeks after I restored it, and sized it to fit." Of course /he/ did that, because: Hank.
He takes the ring from the box, and offers the other hand for hers. Once given, he places it on her ring finger. "Yes. Please." He husks softly once it is on.
"Yeah, well…I know you're a brain, but nothing kills romance like a charcoal chasher and stomach pump…." Still shaking, she offers the box back, then her hand. Talk of meetings and the like can be for another day. As she feels the chill of metal around her naked finger, she takes a moment to look the item over before unlatching her belt and near scrambling to hug around his massive shoulders.
Hank gathers his /fiance/ close, long and muscular arms holding her almost dainty frame (then again not many AREN'T dainty compared to the Beast!) close to his much more massive one. "Love you, Miss Brant." He says softly, almost a croon. His chin over her shoulder, helping hold her steady. She can feel the deep warm beating of his heart, slow and steady, comforting. He nuzzles at her throat. "Thank you."
"Love you, too." She murmurs in return, kissing his cheek and temple adoringly. Pulling back, she composes herself and clears her throat. Resetting her belt, she inhales and exhales both through her lips. "Well, we're still working on your apology for keeping our bed empty. Onward, dear sir. You owe me junk food."
"As you wish." Hank replies in true Princess Bride Wesley fashion.
Hank keeps hold of her hand for the rest of the drive, a silly-goofy-self-satisfied grin on his face. His mood is so good he swaps to his Disney collection, the songs from the last fifty years worth of their animated features shuffled up and mixed together.
The drive does take about an hour all told, and then they're joining the crowds at the Exeter county fair. It looks pretty lively, plenty of people and even a few carnival rides. There's all manner of horrible for you fair foods, livestock competitions, a chili cookoff, live music, arts and crafts, produce contests, even small area for the kids to pet some animals.
Eventually, Betty sings along. Enjoying the ride, she giggles and laughs all the way to their parking spot.
Once out, she waits for him and links arms, head up and eyes attentive to everything that's around. The first thing to hit them is the smell, that odd mixture of buttery popcored, fried goods, cigarette smoke, stale beer and wet hay. Ah, the country. Betty never knew it.
Standing in line for their tickets (for games of course) she makes a soft frown and looks up the blue man's way. "Hey, I just realized something…you can't ride any rides, can you? You are hella swole." She muses before wrinkling her nose. "Sorry, remind me to never use that word again."
Hank does too, and yeah…he's got an amazing baritone and never flubs a line. Well…unless Betty's laughter infects him, of course…hard to sing, chuff, chortle and giggle at the same time after all.
Don't forget the particular ambiance added by animal products! Definitely a unique combo, not entirely unpleasant, but not one city slickers are like to enjoy that much most of the time.
It is particularly pungent for Hank, but as always, he's prepared - a pair of nose filters produced, and inserted, leaving only a dark blue ring barely visible.
"'Swole'?" He repeats with vast amusement. "Not many, no. Perhaps the tilt-a-whirl, though my mass is a factor there, sorry love."
"Don't be. I only wanted you on the Ferris Wheel with me. But that's not a deal breaker." She waves it away before smirking. "Ah, no. Hella. I'm not allowed to use 'hella' anymore. Swole is kinda funny." She was showing her age, no doubt. At least she was up to date?
Once inside, she begins taking a casual pace. Her eyes bouncing about game stalls and crafts alike. There wasn't exactly anything she was aiming for specifically, but being out and about was nice. "You already talked to your parents about it, haven't you? The ring, I mean."
"Ferris wheel is actually probably okay, assuming it isn't in disrepair—I'll have a look at it when we get there." Hank laughs at the mis-chosen word. "Fair enough, but…I think I'll grant use of 'Hella', unless you risk offending the matron of Helheim, of course." She was definitely hep to the jive!
As promised, first things first, FUNNEL Cake and Cotton Candy.
PROUD to have her on his arm, Hank walks at whatever pace she sets, though they get some fairly raw looks along the way at times. Hank just ignores them.
A nod. "I did. I was going to /buy/ a ring, mother insisted with /great/ assertiveness I use her mother's ring." A helpless shrug. "I know it isn't fancy…" He slants a look at her. "…do you like it?" The ring is plain white gold, and has a tiny diamond, and two chips of sapphire for accents. Simple.
"Hopefully I will never cause any ill feelings for Fenris' siblings. I serve them as I serve him." She murmurs, though she is smiling. After they round a corner and come smack dab into the aroma cloud of fried dough and sugar, Brant lets out a soft moan. She waits their turn and orders for herself, requesting no fruit and to go light on the sugar. Sometimes, all one needs is buttery, pancakey goodness. Such a theme for the day.
Once Hank has one for himself, she allows her arm to part from him if only to pull and much at her treat. "Silly question," she muffles around one full cheek. "Do you like pink cotton candy better or blue?"
"Even if they're at cross purposes? That has to be difficult at times." Hank gets his with blueberry compote, because why not? Extra sugar too. The boy can /eat/, yes ma'am he can. Hank pays for this round of food with a smile and a thank you, even though the teenager behind the counter recoils a bit at the fanged maw, and then as they turn he kisses Betty's cheek. "Good." That she likes the ring, plain as it can be.
Happily munching his death—err…FUNNEL cake, he looks thoughtful. "Well, I'm secure enough in my masculinity not to feel threatened by pink, but yes…I admit, I prefer the blue."
Betty was never a flashy sort, so the ring itself fits well and good on her finger. Every now and then it even catches the lights of excitement all around them. Nibbling away, she makes fair work of her treat. She didn't eat like Hank could (or needed to) but she could hold her own. What Priestess is worth her salt if she couldn't feast and enjoy life?
"Mmm! I do, too! Prefer blue." Then she winks, allowing that to settle as a cheeky joke. "Do you like caramel apples or candy? I always liked candy. I remember always trying to eat the sugar shell off and then the apple? I never finished one by myself. Not when I was growing up anyway."
"I admit I have fondness for both, leaning perhaps a bit towards the caramel. I love the combination with the peanuts and such. So /gooey/." Hank says with a grin. And then as they head to get something to drink, a couple of good ole'boys whistle, one at Betty's ass, one in shock at at Hank's fur. "Sheeee-/IT/, didn't know that they let the apes out of their cages…" One of his five friends laughs. "…hey pretty girl, why don'tcha come over here, we'll treat you RIGHT." A third snorts on his beer. "Yeah, better not to f*** outside yer species, girlie…I be we can do a much better job than any freak monkey-boy could."
Hank goes very still, and she can feel the growl starting, rumbling in his barrel-like chest.
"Henry," she whispers softly, a reach out and touch of his arm. "Hold my plate?" Offering out her paper dish and half eaten treat to the big boy lug, she offers him that adoring smile before turning to face the group spitting their mockery. "Y'know, you're right. I didn't know they let the apes out of their cages, but you boys seemed to get out just fine." With a laugh, as bubbly as it is, Betty smirks those cherry lips and presses a dimple into her cheek. "Mmm, outside of my species. Maybe so, but at least I'm upgrading from the local rabble."
Hackles raised, Hank holds Betty's gaze, and then she can see him fight back the urge to inflict a little mayhem on the half-dozen louts. "Of course, dear lady." He accepts the plate, and then looks at the goons and shakes his head sadly, clearly full of /pity/ for them. ONE of the six looks doubtful of a sudden, the other? Yeah, probably too inbred for that much sense.
The leader of the crew is a very large farm boy, the very image of the archetype, six four, burly, well muscled. He'd dressed in coveralls and a long sleeved white t-shirt. He really couldn't be more stereotype…though two of his friends are, they have straw hats!
He gets right in her face, beer and sweat stink /ripe/. "Sorry, didn't quite hear ya, girlie? So…you some sort o'animal lover then? I'm sure there's a donkey or somethin' we can find fer ya…"
"Does it make you feel special talking down to others? Not much going on at home? In your life?" Betty asks, not flenching what so ever. She stands her ground, even as those smells burn her nostrils before filtering out to mingle with the rest of what the festivities had to offer. Then the woman frowns. Perhaps she was putting a lid on that fire in her belly - or waiting for one of them to throw the first punch.
"Is there something you need to talk about with someone? I know a few people. Great listeners, maybe they can help you and yours out?"
The one with the doubts, moves up, gripping the leader's arm as he balls up a fist. "Rex…don't." Rex turns to his friend. "What, you gonna let this freak lovin' b talk to me like that? To US?" Sensible guy nods. "Yeah, because yer bein' an asshole." And this makes Rex /mad/, Red in the face he turns and shoves his friend so hard the guy goes off his feet completely, landing in a cow pattie with a 'oomph' as his air is pushed out.
The other four step up, forming up in a loose ring about the leader. "B." He snarls and tries to backhand Betty across the face.
Hank murmurs very softly. "Mistake."
"I'm being serious, y'know…if you need someone to speak with, I know some people." She mentions once more, even going so far as to twitching when the man, Rex's friend, is pushed down and away. Then the hand comes up. A flare of light shines in her eyes before she reaches up with one arm. A block, simple as is, that carries over and shifts Rex's weight. Before long, the goon will find himself on the ground as well.
"Walk away, Rex. I mean it. Please." Betty requests.
Sensible guy scrambles back, Rex is dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the same cow pattie, and sputtering curses. The /ease/ and speed she took their fearless leader gives the other four pause. When Rex scrambles to his feet, red in the face, neck muscles distended and jaw clenched they pile on, two on each side. "You need to cool your sh** down, Rex." One of 'em says, and then the drag him off to find a water trough or something. Sensible guy, watches and then nods to Betty. "M'sorry, ma'am, Rex lost his folks in a mutie attack, he ain't right in the head sometimes." A miserable shruge. "He ain't so bad a guy usually, just…gets carried away."
"I'm sorry," Betty begins, though her eyes linger on Rex and his goons until they're out of sight. Softening, instantly, she looks to the sensable man and thins her lips. "I'm sorry to hear that. But blaming my fiance isn't going to bring them back. Nor is blaming anyone else that's just different. It's like if I blamed something on you that was completely out of your power to change." Digging into her pocket, she pulls up her phone and shuffles through her contacts. "Do you have a phone, Mr…" She pauses and offers out her hand. "I'm Betty, by the way." A motion with her head. "This is Henry."
"Uh…Robertson, ma'am, Jace…Jason." Jace shakes Betty's hand. "Nice t'meetcha." He says by rote, and then looks to Hank. "Uh…Henry." He accepts the hand that Hank offers, his own almost as engulfed in Hank's grip as Betty's is! "Man…yer kinda scary, Henry." Hank nods. "Yes, and she's the dangerous one." He says with a very straight face.
Jace looks to Betty, and then nods as he takes out his phone, ooh…a Samsung Note Ten! Not /bad/ considering how 'hick' he looks.
"Here," she offers a few numbers. "I'm not sure if he's ever considered speaking with anyone, even if it's someone he trusts, but talking to strangers can be a powerful thing. Take these names and these numbers, see if you or anyone else can get the help they need." She waits for the information to pass to him before pulling her phone away.
"I'm sorry about your clothes, too. Look after your friend." A beat, "And yourself, Jace." Another smile, sweeter this time, she returns to Hank and reclaims her cake. "Have a good night." She addresses Jace once more before nodding to Henry. They could keep walking now should they wish it.
Jace takes the numbers. "You two too." He responds to her well wish, then frowns as he think about what he just said. A shrug then, and he heads off to enjoy the faire. A local cop comes forward then, and nods to Betty. "Handled yourself well, Miss Brant." The guy is rather weather-beaten and almost ascetic thin, steel gray hair, pale blue eyes. He tips his hat to her, and then to Hank. "Keep on bein' sensible, you hear?" Hank nods sharply. "Thank you, Sherrif, we will." Once the man has Betty's assurance, he sighs as he gets a call on his radio. "Charlie…no…do /not/ let Petey get near the diesel oil.." And then Sheriff Mackey heads off at a good clip.
Hank smiles to Betty. "That was the hardest thing I have had to do in a long while." He says softly. "The sheriff was right though, you did handle things well."
"Oh, a fan?" She asks - she didn't remember giving anyone her last name. Smiling still, she gives he word and moves on with Hank. "You did amazingly well. Very well. You handled things better than I did." Stuffing her face all the more, she begins to finish things off, suckling the sugar dustings from her fingers.
"Hey," she speaks again. "I'll always have your back, Hank."
"Yes ma'am, wrote to you once…Tin Star 55." Ask Betty! She might not remember the letter, or she might, no doubt she'll find out if she didn't though. Hank chuckles at that reveal, and then snorts. "Did I? I was about to wreck those boys, thank you for diverting me, Betty." Hank's quite sincere about it too, truly grateful. "Of course, never doubted it." And you know, he DID back her up just now, total faith in her ability to handle that potential fracas. "We'll watch each other's backs, mm?"