Make You Feel My Love

Darts and Hangman

     Abigail throws a dart at the board, hitting the center. She's competing against herself, not having the guts to ask a stranger to play with her. She takes three steps to the left, and throws another. It hits an inch below the one in the center. Her shoulders slump in defeat, even though she knows she wins on either team.

      Her hair is slicked back in the military ordered bun, and she's dressed in her ugly peanut butter colored uniform. She curses to herself as she realizes she left her name tag on the dresser at home. She'd get scolded for that if she were at work, which thankfully starts tomorrow. Doesn't matter right now.

    "Mind if we join you?" A green eyed man asks, dressed in the exact same uniform as her. Except he has his name tag, Seresin. The man standing beside him is Machado. Abigail shrugs, going over and collecting the darts, then handing one to each of them. She watches the green eyed man throw a dart and land it right next to her bullseye. "What's your guys' call signs?" She asks, going next. Another bullseye. "Coyote." The taller man, Machado answers, throwing his dart. It lands nowhere near the center.

     The green eyed man smirks and walks to the dart board, collecting them up. "Hangman." Abigail takes notice of how blinding his white teeth are. Teeth usually have a natural yellow tint, but his are like looking straight at the sun. "Iceberg." She introduces herself.

      Hangman steps out of the way after handing her her dart. "Ladies first." He smirks, crossing his arms. Abigail shakes her head and smiles, launching the dart at the board. Again, bullseye. Hangman and Coyote whistle. "That's some accuracy right there, I'm gonna guess you're a pilot, not an WSO." Coyote hums, watching Hangman miserably fail at his turn at throwing the dart. No bullseye. Abigail nods, laughing at Hangman. He doesn't seem used to getting beaten by a girl. She's glad to be the first.

    The next round of darts, Abigail steps out of the way. "Losers first, Hangman." She smirked, leaning against the wooden support beam. Hangman playfully rolls his eyes, then closes them and throws the dart. It lands directly in the center. Bullseye. "Maybe I was going easy on you, Ice." He says cockily, biting his bottom lip.

     Penny rings the bell and the entire bar cheers, as yet another person has disrespected a lady, the Navy, or put their cellphone on Penny's bar. It's a daily occurrence, just shows how much people don't care to read, or don't care about  the consequences of their actions.

       "You drink beer?" Hangman questions, pointing at Abigail. "Sometimes." She shrugs, taking his offering. "I'll be right back, sweetheart." He smirks. It seems that facial expression is a habit of his.

     Coyote and Abigail give up darts and move to the pool table, playing 9-Ball. She wasn't as good at this as she was darts. So Coyote has an advantage. "Hangman likes to flirt, if you haven't already noticed. He thinks he's deserving of every woman." Coyote blurts, laughing as he watches Abigail fail again at hitting the ball. She chuckles. "Yeah, I know the type. He won't get to me that easily." She promises, watching Hangman return with three beers in his hands. He gives Abigail one, then Coyote, and keeps the third for himself. "Y'all talking about me?" He raises an eyebrow, taking the pool stick Abigail was offering him. She'd rather sit and observe the game. "Wouldn't you like to know." She hums, taking a swig of the beer. Coyote grins.

     Hangman walks around the pool table, trying to get a good angle. He hits and gets a ball in the hole, or whatever you call it. Abigail did not understand 9-Ball. He looks up and spots more people walking over. "Look what we have here, if it ain't Phoenix! And here I thought we were special. Turns out, the invite went to anyone." Hangman announces, turning back to the two people standing beside him.

     Abigail already knew more people were coming. It's her and 12 others, and she knew who was going to be teaching them starting tomorrow. Perks of being the daughter of an admiral.