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2012-03-26 07:53 am (UTC)
Oh, and there's an idea. Woody sips at his Coke and lets his eyes go far away for a moment, imagining it. Sea and sun and surf, pretty ladies -- not that he'd do anything but look but looking isn't against any rules that he knows of -- good food, good company (if no one kills anyone else within five minutes, a cynical part of his mind pipes up). Relaxation. Not a care in the world.
Money, of course. He has to think about money but unless he's pretty damn confused that's what Alvo's offering. Tickets, transportation, whatever they need. He might even have a job by then. Little extra pocket change and if not, well.
His face splits in a grin and he leans back, taps his fingers on the table. "It's a deal by me. Couldn't let you rattle about all lonely up there, could we?"
He hopes the others will agree. They will, he thinks. They might fight it -- Rick won't, but Bax maybe with his girls, and Quinn being Quinn but -- no, he thinks, they'll come. And if they don't, well. He and Alvo are close. Always have been. Maybe he'll try and find some way up on his own, if he can.
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