(no subject)

[the_marshal]

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.

Comments

[the_marshal]

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!

[dieinpajamas]

"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.

[the_marshal]

"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."

[dieinpajamas]

"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."