scurlock | oom: amarillo, tx

Shrewd man.

Doc soon has company, leaping lightly up onto the bar to lap at the cream.

Smart man.

"Mornin'," he says, pausing mid-stab of eggs to reach over and lightly scritch behind the cats ears. Even if it is a little odd, well, his brain tells him that cats require scritches along with a greeting.

(Obviously the brainwashing worked, with this one.)

Oh hey, he gives scritches!

Very smart man.

Yrael purrs, lightly. "Good morning," he greets in return, or agrees.

"You want anything besides the cream for breakfast?"

Though there is the prospect of hunting, if Yrael thinks he might manage a jackrabbit or something.

Yrael would take jackrabbits as an interesting new diversion. They're sure to be as much, if not more fun than the demon bunnies outside. Faster, if not as inherently violent.

The mun doesn't know if the antelopes she's seen in Colorado were to be found in Texas at that period or history, but knows that Yrael would take antelopes to be a personal challenge.

"The cream will be enough for me, thanks," Yrael says, shrugging. He doesn't exactly need food, but it tastes good. He won't turn it down when it's offered, but he doesn't have to go out of his way for it if he doesn't want to.

"Alright," he nods slightly. "Probably some things y'can catch out there if you ain't a fan of beef jerky, come lunchtime."

The image of Yrael bounding across the plains in pursuit or an antelope or some sort of wild goat is reason enough to assume that yes, they will come across something of the like.

Doc works on finishing his own breakfast, with the occasional pause for coffee and scritch application.

"I have had elk jerky that a friend of mine made, once, but never beef jerky." The not'cat finishes the cream quickly, then stretches luxuriously, yawning.

"Where in America is Texas, by the way? I have not been there before." A terrible pity, in his opinion, since it seems to have blazing-hot days and sun-warmed rocks aplenty.

"West of Louisiana, on the Gulf. It's the biggest state in the Union."

He makes an 'L' shape with one hand to show Louisiana, then uses the other hand to demonstrate where Texas is.

Then Bar, helpfully, provides a map.

Doc points out Amarillo.

"Ahh," he says, leaning his forepaws on the map to get a closer look. "I have a door to New Orleans, much later than this, but I have never been anywhere west of there."

He's also been to New York City, but that is so far away from Texas that cowboys in salsa commercials exclaim over it.

"So that is where your door leads to," he points an extended claw to Amarillo. "Where are you traveling to?"

"Heading up for Denver," he points at the center of Colorado. "While I was in Galveston, I caught wind of some land sales goin' on up here so I'm gonna check them out."

A glance over at the not'cat.

"New Orleans? I went to med school, there."

"Did you?" the not'cat blinks, smiling. "I had heard there was a medical school there, but I have not seen it yet. Most of my time there is spent performing music in various clubs and bars, or exploring the city."

"Tulane," he replies. "It's a wondeful city." Even in his time, there were bars and clubs.

"It is," Yrael agrees, nodding.

Bars and clubs are the first things to move into a town or city, after all. It's a logical progression.

Maybe Doc didn't want that last little bite of bacon, left on the plate?

Of course he didn't. The plate is slid over to the side and closer to the not'cat, and Doc folds the map up before 'returning it' to the bar. He has one of his own.

"Door should open into a cafe," he explains. "It's just a short walk down the street to the livery to grab my horse."

A beat.

"Would you rather follow or curl up in here?" He pats his bag, which is a good sized 'messenger' style leather bag. Inside is his clean laundry and a few other odds and ends.

"I can curl up in there," he smirks. "I'll promise not to shed, even."

"All right," he says. He climbs up off the stool and holds the bag open to that Yrael can hop in and get settled.

(Ooh, wool socks.)

Ooooh, indeed.

"It's not exactly dignified, but I doubt I know anyone in," he checks the map again, "Amarillo, so I don't mind."

He settles in among the laundry, turning about once before curling up. Oooh, warm.

"I won't go mentionin' the how we got you out there to just anyone," he promises, before he picks up the bag and slips the strap over his shoulder.

He barely notices the extra weight from the cat.

True to his word, the door opens up into a cafe, and as soon as he steps outside the cafe it's obvious that there is a temperature change.

Mmm, Texas in late July. Nothing quite like the midwest.

He makes brief conversation with the man running the stables, and they have to wait a moment for someone to saddle his horse. But soon enough he's set, with reins in hand and bag on his lap, moving out onto the dusty street.

He flips the bag open so Yrael can poke his head out and see.

The material of the bag is tough enough that Yrael can dig his claws in to keep his balance and not be moved about too much. Once the bag is open, the white not'cat pokes his head out quite as though he's done this sort of thing before, quickly shaking his head once, before looking around. The sun and blazing heat and new place are lovely in combination, he feels. Green eyes peer this way and that, taking in buildings and people and horses with equal interest.

As well as having ridden in bags before, he's certainly had to hide what he is before, and knows how to talk while keeping his mouth movements to a minimum. "It seems all very new," he murmurs, watching a couple of children play in the shade of one of the buildings.

"Towns are springing up all over," he agrees. "And bigger towns like this, they keep the paint fresh and the hammers swingin', always bringing folk in."

It's a fairly busy day, today, in Amarillo. Women in bustling skirts moving down the boardwalk, men standing outside saloons and eating houses smoking cigarettes and talking, horses tied to rails up and down the street.

Doc tips his hat at people as they pass, smirking at the occasional raised eyebrow he gets at having a white cat's head peeking out of his bag, alert green eyes taking in the scene.

(He could really care less. He's leaving in a few days anyway.)

"This is the main drag," he adds, keeping the horse to a steady walking pace. There's an occasional wagon to sidestep or horse to navigate around, and he's in no rush.

Yrael's gaze is momentarily caught by a dog.

The dog is the first to break eye-contact.

Yrael sniffs at the air, taking in the scents of wood and sweat, horses and tobacco, dust and leather, cattle and cooking food. "It looks to be booming, indeed. People are moving in? Many of them smell of cattle."

And other things, but the smell of cattle is... pretty prevalent.

"They're bringing the cattle into town," he agrees. "Moving them along to the railroads to ship them back east. The ranches are huge, outside of town. Goodnight owns the biggest one, if I'm not mistaken."

Once they make their way out of the shops and offices, and towards the stockyards, the smell of cattle will become even more prevalent.

Doc's used to it, though he doesn't have a cat's scenting abilities.

Oh, he notices it, definitely. But he will not mention it.

"I do not think I have ever seen land so very flat, ever. So very little to cast shadow, beyond the buildings themselves." He bets that those sun-warmed rocks get very sun-warmed over the course of a day.

He points off to the south-east.

"New Orleans is that way. Next state over."

He leads them on down the road, and eventually they get clear of the buildings and to the outskirts of down. There's a beaten dirt track leading west, earth pounded solid by hooves and wagon wheels, and another leading north, desert scrub as far as the eye can see.

There is a slight breeze, that is now blowing the ever-prevalent scent of cattle away from them.

Charter bless slight breezes from non-cattle-oriented directions. Yrael sniffs the wilder scent of the breeze. "Mmmm." There is very little human in it, at least in that which comes from out in the desert, past the last lingering buildings of the human settlement.

"What way do you go, today?"

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