thecapitol | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO| Wyatt and Alpha, then anyone else who wants in
WHAT| Training
WHEN| A few days before the new arena
WHERE| Training Center
WARNING/NOTES| Wyatt and Alpha do not get on. No, they do not. (Or that's the plan at any rate.)

Prior to coming to the Capitol, Wyatt's experience with trapping had been limited to what he'd overheard during drunken exchanges between pelters at the saloon, and during lockup while said dried out. But, turned out, that'd had more of an impression that he'd ever thought. To his surprise, he had something of a knack for it.

Bill woulda been so proud.

Smirking as he crouched in one of the training room's small woodland stations - imagining Bill's face if and when he ever got home - he practiced tying snares, his big hands moving far more slowly, more delicately, than he'd ever imagined they could.

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Wyatt frowned. There were a bunch of words there he didn't necessarily agree with.

"I'd prefer 'gunfighter,' iffin you had to use one," he replied, thinking to himself that he didn't much like that one either, but people here did insist on callin' him all sorts of things. "But, yes." He finished and slowly rose out of his crouch to stand. "That's me."

"Gunfighter, gunslinger, lawman, all amounts to about the same," Alpha shrugged, watching Wyatt carefully. "So I guess you were already used to the fame before you came here, unlike some of the rest." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Famous specifically for a bloody battle to the death, even."

That this stranger knew about what happened with Dora and Kenedy, didn't surprise him. It was true the name Wyatt Earp had been fairly well known amongst the cowtowns and cattle trails, and even if it hadn't been, the story still would've gotten 'round - thanks to Buntline.

Buntline and his damn books.

"I ain't never killed anyone that left me another choice," Wyatt said, voice gone low, his eyes hard. "And that includes Spike Kenedy."

"Oh, I can't imagine there were too many crying for the likes of Spike Kenedy," said Alpha easily, enjoying this far too much. "Men killing women? Disgraceful." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not a lot of people know about Spike Kenedy, you know. Not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when your name pops up."

Wyatt's eyes narrowed. Whatever game this stranger was up too, he'd had enough.

"Well then, why don't you stop pussy-footin' around and come on out and accuse me straight."

Then they could settle this. One way or 'nother.

"Accuse?" said Alpha, infusing his voice with false offended outrage. "I'm a fan! Hell, I'm a fan five times over. Every little boy spends part of his childhood wishing he was a gunslinger in the Old West." He made a gun with his hand and mimed shooting it off in Wyatt's direction. "Of course, still haven't decided if I'm a fan of you or your acting skills," he added, his grin widening to show some teeth.

Wyatt's physically pulled back, head tipping as his nose wrinkled in confusion. "Acting skills?"

"Yeah," Alpha shrugged eloquently. "You're very convincing. I mean, you haven't really 'wowed' me just yet, it could still go either way." He leaned a shoulder against a tree, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and examined Wyatt once again.

"You certainly look the part, but do you really believe you're Wyatt Earp or are you just very invested in your character. Trust me, I'm experienced with both sides of that particular coin and I just can't tell yet with you."

Wyatt blinked, feeling damn near buffaloed.

"You think I'm lyin'?" he replied, eyebrows shootin' up, unsure how to feel about it.

This Alpha feller thought he was lyin' about who he was!

"Lying, hopelessly delusional, brainwashed. Really, there's a multitude of possibilities here." There were even a couple parts of Alpha still vying for time-travel, but frankly he had his limits.

"How's about," Wyatt shifted, his boots should-with apart, his hands settle lightly on his belt, "I am who I say am, and we leave it at that, friend, before you go on and get yerself in trouble."

"That's a horrible thing to say to me," he said, a part of Alpha hoping desperately for Wyatt to tip up his hate with one finger. "I am, among many, many other things, practically compelled to throw myself into trouble when given the chance." He waved a hand airily. "It's an illness, really. I am downright attracted to trouble, even! And you," he pointed his finger at Wyatt, in a faux-gun gesture because why not? "--you are kinda screaming trouble right now."

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