[h3] Duke [/h3]

Duke thought about the name. There were at least a dozen hunters he could think of with that name, and none of them seemed to be the type that would pull a stunt nasty enough to get someone hurt on purpose, unless they planned to kill the person themselves. He sighed, wringing his hands a bit before wiping them on his pants and sitting up straight, glancing up at the sky, “Well, I’ll remember that name. Whether or not they think you’re dead, you’re not. It’s in their best interest not to come around.”

He smirked, and turned back to Esme, his smile widening as she thanked him and took that final drink of her coffee. He didn’t answer her thanks, shrugging a shoulder as he contemplated whether he should leave her alone with her thoughts, or press her for more, to let her get it all off her chest. Maybe she would feel better and resting up would be more comfortable without all that anger. 

But her next words took him off guard. He tilted his head back and flashed another brilliant smile at her, “You want to go shootin’ with me? You know what? I won’t ask. I’m gonna go get my pistol and we can head out to the range, right out there.”

He stood quickly as he pointed toward the small garden of mannequins, pots, pans and other random things that Bobby had set up for the kids to shoot at. He got all the way down the steps, before turning around rubbing absentmindedly at his bare chest as he turned to Esme and tilted his head.

“You wanna come with me? I gotta go grab my stuff from the RV. Ain’t no sense in just sittin’ around here waitin’ on me to get back.” He chuckled and reached his hand out, offering it to Esme.

[b] A few moments later [/b]

Duke grumbled as he walked across the gravel, making a mental note to grab his boots once he was inside the trailer. He turned to Esme and smirked, before pulling the door to the trailer open and climbing the steps, before turning to her and offering his hand to help her up the steps. Even though he was thin, he was stout and there was no way he was letting her walk up on her own, as banged up as she was. “Watch that top step. Welcome to my home, when I get kicked out of my home!”

He chuckled and stepped over to the small table that he had all of his guns torn apart on, hoping to go shooting later on. He began to rummage through them, putting the pieces back together as he let her explore the trailer. Around the table, there were books from every religion out there, along with a small radio that was playing country music at a low volume, something he only listened to when he was alone. 

He kicked his cowboy boots from under the table and sat on the cushion, pulling them onto his feet, before standing again, and putting the last couple of guns together, glancing up at Esme.

“You’re welcome in here any time you need to talk, you know. I know how Dean can be. He’s nice and cuddly, but he’s not much of an open book. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. So, if you’re gonna be around, welcome to your new therapists office.” He joked, laughing with a bright smile.