﹝ ─── the hard way ✦ ﹞ one x one

[bronc]

𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏

Cody considered the other trainer, standing to meet him, making eye contact. Rafael was about an inch taller, but Cody was stocky, solid, built similar to the ideal horse, in his mind. He took in what the man said, turning it over in his mind, noting the calm tone with which the trainer spoke, but sensing the tension in the air between the two. When the other trainer finished speaking, Cody was silent for a moment, working his jaw, thinking over what he would say. Cody turned his head to the cadenced clopping of hooves nearby, watching the other trainer, noticing the commotion, if you could call it that, turn tail and back out of the barn. Cody tossed a "this is fine" nod in the other's direction, before turning back to Rafael, taking in a breath, talking slow and clear, his southern drawl thick, which he suspected would only cement the other man's opinion of him.

"Well, I commend your passion," Cody began, taking his time with his words. The man was always one to be sensible, presenting what he knew as facts to be true. "But considering western was designed for comfort, your point doesn't hold much weight." Picking up the body brush, Cody went to work flicking out the dust from Parker's coat. He let that statement stand for a moment, then continued, "a good cow horse is as important to a cowboy as breathing. It's a partnership. One can't be without the other." Cody paused, brushing thoughtfully. He could stand here all day with this debate, bringing up good points until his lungs turned blue, but that wouldn't be productive, so better to get it over with. "Western saddles were made for work, for stability. The weight is spread across the horse's back. This makes those 'hours and hours without a break' comfortable and doable."

𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙐𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙎?

"Personally, I think western is as natural as it comes. The ideal western horse should be able to put in a full days work, strong enough for dad to doctor a calf, but then that same horse should be calm and good-natured for the cowboy's kids to ride in local saddle club shows that same night. I don't think throwing themselves over four foot tall jumps- or barreling around a cross country course, means much to a horse. Western disciplines can all trace back to a certain need being filled. Sorting cows, putting in a day's work, that has purpose. The English horse does its job to be done with it," Cody countered, dropping an imaginary microphone in his head. Being the people-pleaser he was, normally Cody would let people on believing whatever they wanted to, knowing, much like he was, people were set in their ways. So what it was about this man that he felt the need to point out these things he'd known since he was a child, that wasn't clear. Probably, it was the culmination of the past two days, the worsening headache, souring Cody's mood. Or this other trainer's insistence that he was correct, not knowing his opinions were without substance, based on some shared stereotype. Well, it wasn't Cody's job to be this man's wake up call, so he only concluded his part of the conversation with a curt, "Spend some time in a western barn. It would change your mind."

𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 '𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂
𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 '𝙏𝙄𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂

[Consulting_Angel]

Rafael Karim
"Nothing less than perfection"

For a few moments, Rafael let himself be more receptive to reason - mostly just for the explanation for the saddle. Granted, it was something he probably could have found out himself, but he had just never bothered to, nor had he been particularly interested in doing so, he'd only previously seen that the Western saddled were big, bulky and heavy to carry and therefore presumed it would be heavier on the horse - something that he still thought it might be, but whatever. Fine. He'd give Cody that point. It did somewhat alleviate his concerns about the heavy saddles. But everything else, he disagreed in still, and was quite ready to defend himself. He did find the point Cody made about partnership with the horse almost laughable, given he was sure that Cody did not have his own horse and only trained them up - though he wasn't going to bring that up... yet.

"I'd argue that with an English saddle, the rider would be closer to the horse, giving a real sense of partnership and teamwork, being able to feel the horse's movement under you and able to give cues much more subtly. And if a horse really didn't want to jump then they'd refuse." Rafael replied, with a slight shrug, knowing that he would not force a horse to do something they really didn't want to do, but he knew that the same could not necessarily be said for all other riders of any discipline. Still, though he was defensive, he still spoke relatively calmly, and hadn't dropped the lead rope again. "I don't think there has to be a purpose to everything they do - and they don't have to be constantly working. Especially, again, with cattle that I've heard too many stories about charging and injuring the horse."

That was where his receptiveness came to an end, though, especially when Cody had suggested that he spend some time in an actual western barn. Change his mind? Not a chance. Rafael grew colder again. "I'll pass on that, thanks." he said, choosing not to bring up his doubts that Cody would spend any time with English riders and potentially change his mind. "Now - if you don't mind, I have others things to do than stand here and debate something neither of us will change our minds on." Rafael started to leave, not having to stand more than a couple of steps before Nightstorm followed close behind, not really needing the lead rope to guide him out.

[bronc]

𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏

Cody could be mistaken, but he swore the other trainer took the time to consider his point, which came as a surprise. Cody was sure this was to be a one-sided conversation, like talking to a wall, which more than likely would be the case for Rafael. Cody was a man not inclined to change, being set in his ways. He knew what he had, what worked for him, what didn't so much. What he knew was from years of trial and error, his methods like clay in his hands, constantly molding, taking shape from the near-misses, success, and blunders. Some of it was taught by those who had come before him, their way of doing things. It went without saying, though, that there would be people who didn't see things the same way. There were things Cody did that other trainers did differently. In the same way, these other trainers' methods wouldn't work so well for Cody. So, Cody knew whatever points this man brought up during their debate in the tacking bay wouldn't make a dent in his opinions, and he surmised the same was true for Rafael. The man would be blue in the face before this other trainer considered his side, thus, this was more a show to Rafael that Cody couldn't be intimidated or bent by the other trainer's opinions.

The origins of the English saddle made enough sense in Cody's head. It was something he hadn't taken the time to consider, since the man wouldn't be caught dead in one of those tiny, sleek saddles. Not that this changed anything. So, western and English were different disciplines, different styles, which needed different equipment. It wasn't something Cody didn't know. Still, he stayed silent while Rafael went on, sighing with indifference. The other man's defense that a horse could simply refuse something they didn't want to do weak in his mind, since he couldn't think of a single reason why the horse would want to make it to the other side of the jump anyway, other than to be done with it. Could cutting or cow work be dangerous, well of course. Cody would let Rafael score that point, it wasn't quite two years ago a particularly nasty spill during a cutting show had left Cody in traction for a month, when a calf darted in front of the colt he'd been working at the last minute. It only took someone with half a brain to figure out what happened. The next thing Cody knew, he was in the dirt, his body crushed by the colt's weight. What a way to make a first impression. His leg still caused trouble on wet, cold mornings. So, sure, cow work wasn't without its dangers, but the same could be said for any other discipline. One loose calf, a solid fence on the cross-country course, it was the same deal.

𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙐𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙎?

Cody could sense the second the other man's cordiality went out the window, the air in the barn seeming to drop ten degrees. So, that last comment had gotten to the man. Cody watched with a slight smirk as he practically stormed off, the black sporty thing on his tail like a child. Turning back to Parker, blowing out a breath, he messaged his temples, the headache showing no sign of weakening, probably not until a night of sleep. He paused to stroke the cow horse's ear, the thudding of work boots on concrete coming near a sign Trail was back, able to escape the clutches of whatever important business he was dealing with on the other line. The slightly older trainer stepped back into the bay to work on brushing the stud, Cody soaking in the silence, other than a few words spoken between the two western trainers. When twenty minutes passed, Cody took off Parker's ice boots, setting them on the shelf, then took the time to clip the black lead rope on Parker's dark brown leather halter. With the slightest bit of pressure Parker followed behind Cody, who began the walk from the barn to the pasture, Trail pointing out the direction of it for him, though Cody, since the tour, was now starting to pickup the layout of the barn. Parker walked close behind Cody, but not too close, didn't pull but didn't stray behind. It was clear had known nothing other than the best handling since day one, it was a shame to know this one had been left to sit, due to the lack of trainers. Still, maybe it was a sign, that for the time being, before it was time to leave too soon, Cody was where he was supposed to be.

Parker waited politely while Cody opened the gate, bringing him into the square-shaped pasture, where a hay feeder and a buddy, a pretty chestnut thing with four white socks, waited for him. Sliding the halter off Parker's nearly perfectly conformed head, short, broad, with wide-set, kind eyes, Cody patted the gelding one last time, then stepped out of the pasture, bolting the gate behind him. Tossing the halter into his other hand, Cody took a moment to pause, scanning his surroundings, the cookie-cutter pastures spread out before him in order, nothing was out of place here, before neatly hanging the halter on its hook on the fence, turning to make the walk back into the barn.

𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 '𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂
𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 '𝙏𝙄𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂

[Consulting_Angel]

Rafael Karim
"Nothing less than perfection"

The sun was almost done setting by the time Rafael was finished for the evening. After he'd taken Nightstorm out to his pasture for a few hours, he'd spent the time working a few yard chores - and helping a couple of the other English-style riders with some training. He loved being approached and considered as a go-to for help. It made him confident, more comfortable with his abilities, especially when it went right. It had also taken his mind off Cody, who he'd avoided for the rest of the day. He was not sure he'd be able to hold another civil conversation with the Western trainer today.

And now, as the day drew to a close, Rafael brought in Destiny and Nightstorm to their stalls for the night. There was a forecast for some rain, and he never liked leaving the two out at night, even without bad weather. He'd made sure they had fresh haynets, the automatic water feeders were still working, and, of course, they both had their evening feed. Everything was good. Ready for him to go home and get some rest and then come back in bright and early in the morning. He already had a plan for the next day - the entire week, really. Carefully scheduled feeding and training and chores. Spontaneity had never been his thing, and made him a little nervous.

As he started to get ready to leave, a group of trainers were gathered around together, talking excitedly. One of them spotted him and called over. "You're coming too, right Rafael?"
Rafael stopped, somewhat confused. "Where to..?" he asked.
"The group hangout - we moved it up to tonight for the new guy!" was the response. Rafael scoffed to himself. Of course they did. He tried not to go to many of the group hangouts, finding the crowd could be a little rowdy for his tastes. And, the whole spontaneous moving it up just for Cody made him even less willing to go. But, he noticed that Tyler, the owner of the yard, was also going to be going, as were quite a few of the other English trainers, so he figured that at least he wouldn't be entirely alone.
"Ugh, fine. But I'm not giving anyone a lift." Rafael agreed, if reluctantly.

[bronc]

𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏

Since turning Parker back out, Cody was stuck in the barn office, spending the day completing the selection of paperwork and onboarding that came with each new position, something the man could probably do in his sleep. It needed to be done, but it still wasn't the way he wanted to spend this day, the sitting still, not being able to work making him uneasy. By the time Cody had stumbled out of the office, the last paper signed, it was close to sunset, dark clouds punctuating the dusking sky, promising a storm. Now, chores were nearly done, the final horse brought in for the night, this one a black show horse by the name of Trooper, one of the reining horses that would be in his care. Cody had spent the last hour or so settling into the manufactured home on the outskirts of the property where he would be spending his nights for who knew how long, though settling was simply Cody tossing what little he owned, not much more than the man could carry, into the closet, then calling it good.

Cody unbolted the door, bringing the quarter horse into the stall. There was a commotion nearby in the barn. Cody could make out four distinct voices, two he knew, two he didn't. The man slipped the halter off, when he noticed one of them, a young brunet by the name of Braydon, standing by the stall. Cody tossed a nod in the man's direction, sliding out of the stall, closing and bolting the door behind him, Trooper making a beeline for his grain. "What's up?"

"We're taking you out tonight, man," Braydon beamed, steel blue orbs twinkling, two bright spots on his sun tanned face.

𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙐𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙎?

"What was that?" Cody questioned, turning to hang the halter on its hook, nailed beside the rack for sheets and blankets.

"You're one of us now. We take all the new ones out, show them how we do things.". By now, the other trainers had come to where Braydon stood with Cody, smiles on their faces. It soon became clear to Cody this was some sort of tradition for the trainers, once in a while, when chores were done for the day, to meet up, catch up with each other over dinner and a few drinks at a bar in town. Cody mirrored their smiles. This ought to be something. It was a tradition Cody could get behind. Some may think Cody was too obsessed with his work to be one for a good time, but the truth was the man could be quite the social butterfly when the work was done. It would be the perfect opportunity to catch up with these new trainers, to find his place amongst them.

Twenty minutes later, Cody and four others were piling into Trail's crew cab, Braydon calling shotgun, Cody sandwiched between two others in the back seat. It seemed tonight Trail was the designated driver, while Cody was the designated drinker. It seemed these nights were taken serious by the trainers, the parking lot outside the barns overflowing with activity, cars and trucks idling, windows down, music playing, some standing around, others still trying to secure their rides. Then, seemingly all at once, they began to set out. Trail climbed behind the wheel, the F-250 Super Duty coming to life. One of the guys in the front plugged their phone in, Wade Forster blaring from the speakers while Trail turned out of the parking lot onto the winding driveway, the others following close behind. They turned left onto the two-lane, making the drive into town, the dually's motor drowned out by the country music from one of the trainer's playlist. Without a doubt, Cody would have some stories to tell from this one.

𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 '𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂
𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 '𝙏𝙄𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂

[Consulting_Angel]

Rafael Karim
"Nothing less than perfection"

Rafael waited in his car, alone, for the cohort of other vehicles to begin pulling out. He did not like other people in his car, especially when it came to one of these nights out, especially as he didn't want to risk getting it a mess. And he didn't want to be reliant on someone else to give him a lift home. But it meant that he could have a little while to himself, listen to the music he wanted to listen to, and prepare himself for the noisy and slightly chaotic environment of a bar.

As the group arrived, someone seemed to have called ahead of time, as someone showed the group to a large table that had been reserved for them. Clearly a few smaller tables had been pushed together. The server, Janice, told the group that someone would be around to take their order soon, and that any drinks could be ordered directly at the bar, and with that, left to see to another, smaller, group of customers.

Rafael sat himself towards the end of the table, between and across from a few of the other English trainers, the divide of the disciplines quite apparent.
"I didn't even know there was someone new." Elliot, one of the other English trainers, commented, idly glancing at the menu, but seemed to already know what he would be ordering.
"How fortunate for you. I've had quite the few encounters today already." Rafael sighed, although he wasn't sure how someone could miss an entirely new trainers on the yard for the whole day.
"Oh? What's he like?" Penny asked, quite curious. "I saw you two talking earlier on - though it didn't look good."
Rafael scoffed. "He's just like the other Western trainers. Cocky, arrogant... the usual. No doubt going to be rowdy. He'll fit in with the other Westerns great."
"Well, I am not surprised Rafael dislikes him already." Elliot laughed, to which Rafael raised an eyebrow.
'I'm not that predictable... am I?"
"Only when it comes to the Western trainers." another English trainer, Tabitha, chimed in.

Fortunately, the conversation soon changed focus as someone else mentioned the event season, which would shortly be upon them. Rafael tuned out of the conversation a little, as the other trainers got more involved with it, and glanced down the table to the Western trainers, though didn't make it obvious what he was doing.

[bronc]

𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏

The trip to and through town was short, close to twenty minutes down a winding country road, the opposite way Cody had come in hours before. There were two bars in town. One, sitting on main street, Cody surmised to cater to tourists passing through town, was shunned by the locals. The other, little more than a shack on the outskirts of town, was where the truck turned into.

The bar itself wasn’t much to look at, by the outside at least; a single brick building sitting on the side of the road, the parking lot overfilling with cars and crew cab trucks alike. Trail pulled the King Ranch truck into a parking spot by the front and cut the engine. A second later, the occupants were climbing out; Braydon out the passenger side door in the front seat, Cody and Wren, a chestnut-haired woman who was sitting next to him, out the drivers side door in the back seat. Wren’s skill set, Cody had learned during the drive, was in the cutting and cow horse side of things. It turned out she was the one who had picked up Parker after he was started under saddle, though with the shortage of western trainers she’d had to put his training on the back burner to focus on other horses in her string, but it showed that she was still fond of the roan gelding in the way she talked of him. She’d been the one piloting Parker, whose registered name was Cowstruck Cat, during his first show. Now she told him about her up and coming Dual Rey colt, who was showing big promise. Cody listened with feigned interest, nodding in the right places as she talked. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but the past few days had left him drained, and what he really wanted was a cold beer and a good night’s sleep.

At least one of those was promised tonight. Several people were milling about outside the bar, deep in their own conversations, while others had already wandered inside.

“We’re out of here at one,” Trail warned over his shoulder, telling the others who had caught a ride with him to meet at his truck when the night was over, before being pulled into a conversation by two others in front of the bar, smiles and handshakes all around.

𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙐𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙎?

Now it was Braydon who had glued himself to Cody’s side, talking his ear off about everything and nothing. He had to smile as he rambled on. It wasn’t long ago he was the same as this kid, wild-eyed and wanting nothing more than to prove himself. Cody made his way up the three steps to the door, which Tyler held open for him. “Boys, take it easy in there,” Tyler had warned, but it was said with a smile, without the slightest threat, and then Cody was bombarded with the sights and sounds of the country bar that had become such an important spot to the other trainers. It wasn’t much more on the inside either, a bar along the right wall with several stools, nearly all of them occupied, along with a handful of tables scattered about. Cody was more or less dragged to their table, taking a seat in the middle, and before he knew it, he had a Yellow Jacket in his hand. He took a swig of his beer and sighed, damn, that was good, while the others seated around him launched into their own conversations; shows that were coming up, breedings they were hopeful about, and the like. Nearly all of their conversations included Cody, who smiled and laughed heartily along with them. This wasn’t where he most wanted to be right now, not with the tiredness in his bones and the steady throbbing in his head, but he knew these nights meant a lot to the trainers of Iron Spring, and he wasn’t going to let them down, certainly not if he wanted to earn his place around here. And, if he was being honest, he did like the attention. It wasn’t that hard for him to get along with others, most people had a natural draw to the man, who had a way of putting others at ease, able to hold a conversation with nearly everyone he came into contact with. Even those he didn’t particularly care for, he could find something in common with. If he gave you a hard time or flat out ignored you, it usually meant one of two things; he really didn’t like you, or, the more common option, he was intrigued. More than once he’d caught the eye of Rafael, the English trainer he’d had the run in with earlier that day, if you could even call it that, seated at the end of the table. He was going to be an interesting case to crack, but Cody decided it would be fun to mess with the other man once in a while, give him Hell every now and then. Besides, what did he have to prove to this man? He was well confident in his own abilities as a trainer, and didn’t need validation from just another snobby English rider who probably didn’t see Cody as much more than dirt on his shoe. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Roughly an hour and three crushed cans later, Cody wasn’t blacked-out falling down drunk, but he was on the tipsier side, his head light, his vision swimming just a tad. Through some kind of excuse, Cody climbed to his feet from his chair, the wood floor feeling just a little unsteady under his worn boots, stretched, then made his way from the table out the front door, where some patrons were already finding their way to their rides as the night was beginning to wind down. Cody could hear the chatter and alcohol-infused laughter from behind him as he made his way back down the steps, his boots crunching on the gravel lot. His exhaustion was catching up to him, but he just needed a few minutes away to himself, then he’d go back in and finish off the night with his new-found friends.

He pulled the pack of Marlboros from his pocket and took out the second to last cigarette left. It was a bad habit, he knew, God knows his mother had reiterated this numerous times, and he’d tried more than once to quit, truth be told he actually hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but a habit was a habit, nevertheless, so he lit up with the Bic lighter he kept in the same pocket and took a long drag, closing his eyes as he exhaled. Summer was nearly in full swing now, but it was still a tad cool outside, and he found himself wishing he’d brought a jacket. He smoked his one cigarette he allowed himself a day, taking in the moment, however fleeting it may be, of peace and quiet. Tomorrow the real work would begin, when he would settle in to the circadian rhythm of waking up before the dawn, saddling while others were still tucked in their beds, and working under long after the sun had set. He’d held nearly a dozen training jobs in his adult life, this one would be no different. It wouldn’t be long before he was back on the road anyway, off to some other state, chasing some other view. It had always been that way for the man, and it always would be.

𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 '𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂
𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 '𝙏𝙄𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂

[Consulting_Angel]

Rafael Karim
"Nothing less than perfection"

The night progressed steadily. Rafael nursed the same drink he had at the start of the night, half-listening to the conversations of the other trainers. There was word floating about for the upcoming competition season - apparently there was going to be a big twist, and it was going to be announced in the coming days. He didn't think there was much to those rumours - and he said as such, commenting, "If there was going to be a big twist, surely they would have been teasing it instead of keeping it a secret." Which earned a few uneasy agreements, but still speculation on what 'twist' there could be. Perhaps they were adding a new event. Maybe competitors would have to compete in a round with a horse they weren't familiar with. It could be that they were changing show jumping and cross country routes. That was not something Rafael would entertain, even after being asked his theory.

So there was that, and also occasionally catching the eye of that irritating new Western rider, Cody, across the room. Great. He wasn't supposed to know that he'd been glaring over a few times. Why did Western trainers have to be so noisy? And why did everyone else seem to think Cody was all that? He would be quite happy if he didn't have to interact with Cody again - even the few times just that day had been more than enough. He didn't have anything to prove to that hayseed. What made it worse what that one of the other English trainers, Elliot, had also noticed, and commented about it.
"You're looking over there an awful lot."
"No- no I'm not. Besides, they're just being noisy." Rafael shot back, even though it wasn't just the Western trainers making noise, and weren't particularly standing out unless one made an effort to listen. But he wouldn't admit that.

Eventually, it was all getting a bit much. Rafael liked his peace and quiet, and he'd already spent more time that he typically would out at this bar. He finished the rest of his drink in one go, setting the glass back down on the table as he stood up.
"I'm going outside for a minute," he announced to the table, who all nodded towards him, almost in unison, and gave some varying comments along the lines of 'see you in a bit', 'have fun' and so on. He then pushed his way through the crowds of customers in the building, getting to the door and stepping outside, where he took a deep breath of the cool air that was almost immediately interrupted by the scent of a cigarette. He scrunched his nose slightly, both because of the smell and because, as he looked over, saw the source of it was Cody. Of all people. The universe seemed to have an odd sense of humour.

At first, Rafael considered saying something, before deciding against it. He didn't even really know what he would say. 'Hello' was much too awkward. And launching into any sort of argument was asking for trouble. He instead just moved so he was upwind of the cigarette smoke, so at least it wasn't going towards him, and leaned against the wall for a minute. It was at least a bit easier to clear his head while out here. He could actually think for a moment. Even if his current worst enemy was standing just a short distance away.

[bronc]

𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝙋𝙍𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙄 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏

The nicotine had worked its magic to calm his rattled nerves some. Crowds did that to him from time to time. It wasn't that he didn't like being around people, or to have people looking at him, which being honest, no matter how much Cody tried to deny it, he was a bit of a showboat, most particularly when it came to competing. He'd worked like a dog to get to where he was now, all the way down to shoveling stalls for fourteen backbreaking hours a day, running on nothing but hope that somebody would take a chance on him, let him show them what he was worth. It had happened finally, he'd been spotted by a top NRCHA trainer while working as a loper at a futurity in Nevada and been offered a job as a trainer. The conditions weren't much better there, but it was a step up. All to say, he was proud of where he came from, and made that clear to others, but sometimes he still found himself desperate for an escape when confronted with a large crowd. Growing up, he'd been a shy boy, but had learned to acclimate himself around others, to engage himself in a crowd, something that was pushed heavily on him by his father. He just needed a chance to break away for a breather, to be by himself for a spell and organize his thoughts. It was the same way when he was showing, when he felt overwhelmed by the amount of people and the pressure he put on himself, he'd often slip off into a tack room or a trailer to decompress, before putting on a smile and facing everyone.

𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙐𝙉𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐, 𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙊𝙁 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙃𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙎?

He'd smoked half of his cigarette when he heard the door creak open behind him, drunken laughter and raucous conversations spilling out into the night. He turned his head just the slightest, half expecting to see some intoxicated cowboy come fumbling down the stairs, but was instead surprised to see Rafael make his way outside, who seemed to mirror his surprise. He turned back, taking a long drag and exhaling it, watching the smoke drift up in the dim light cast by a singular dirty lightbulb overhead. He heard the man's footsteps as he shuffled away from Cody to lean against the wall. He wasn't finished yet, but he chucked the cigarette on the ground anyway, grounding it out with the toe of his boot, and brushed off his shirt with a single motion of his hand, like he could hide the smell of smoke from his clothes. Not that he cared that the other man would see him partaking in something Cody himself didn't already like doing, he really didn't care what Rafael thought of him, so what was that for? He huffed to himself, too quiet for Rafael to hear, and shook the thought from his head. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, on one hand appreciating the silence, on the other hand hating the way it stretched out awkwardly between them, willing either one of them to say something. Man, the past few days had been getting to him.

Unable to handle the silence any longer, he rolled a few questions in his mind, finally settling on, "Y'all do this for all the new guys or am I just special?" just to fill the silence. He wasn't drunk, but the Coors had loosened his tongue a bit, the final word slightly slurred. He snuck a glance at his watch, the face cracked from any one of his last falls but miraculously still worked, seeing it was a quarter til one. He would be up early tomorrow morning, meaning he wouldn't get much sleep tonight like he had hoped, probably not more than three hours or so. He yawned, as if this was his body acknowledging this fact. Tomorrow wouldn't be an easy day by any means, but at least he could hope to spend the most of it in his own company, and the time horseback would go by quickly, it always did, his work often ending well after he'd planned for it to, sometimes into the early hours of the morning. This was something about him that was handled differently by the people in his life, some better than others. Some couldn't comprehend how he'd lost track of so much time, others complained about it, saying he never made enough time for the people in his life, which Cody could concede to be true. As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn't, wouldn't reach for it. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, mentally making a checklist of what he had to do the next day.

𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂 '𝘾𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂
𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒 '𝙏𝙄𝙇 𝙏𝙊𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙒'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂

[Consulting_Angel]

Rafael Karim
"Nothing less than perfection"

He silently scoffed as Cody had prematurely put out his cigarette. He almost made a comment about not putting it out just because he was there, but he didn't want it to sound like he was in any way being nice or - even worse - possibly the hint of flirting. He certainly didn't need to sound like he was interested. That was the other thing he disliked about such nights out. Some of the cowboys that would otherwise avoid him normally would get intoxicated and have an annoying habit of attempting to flirt with the table of English trainers. Entertaining for everyone else, perhaps, but irritating for him. And then they'd conveniently forget about it the next day. Though tonight they'd probably be on their best behaviour - using that term loosely - because Cody was new.
Rafael just enjoyed the silence. The faint sound of talking and clinking glasses from inside was enough to feel barely there.

And then, the silence was broken by Cody. Rafael looked over to him sharply, catching the slight slur at the end of his sentence. Someone was tipsy, and it wasn't Rafael.
"Don't worry, they do this for everyone new. Although it's not often there is someone new." He replied, and he couldn't help but add on a, "Thank goodness." His distaste for the event clear. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for the fact that it was expected of him, and he wanted to show Tyler that he was a team player. Of sorts. Not that he'd probably even noticed, he thought, bitterly, spending his time with his new favourite on the yard. Maybe that was a petty thing to be annoyed about, but... well, that's what it was.

Rafael caught Cody's yawn, and an eyebrow quirked up. He had to check the time himself - quarter to one - and winced slightly. He did not usually stay up this late himself, even on these nights out. He did not have to be at the yard quite as early as some, not that he would get there particularly early anyway, but it was still rather later than he was typically comfortable with. Well maybe he could take an hour or two extra to sleep a bit more and come in slightly later, let one of the stablehands feed his horses in the morning. But he was sure that Cody of all people would notice such a thing. Not that he cared what other people, especially Cody, thought about how he took care of his horses.
He could also stay quiet, not comment about the time or the yawn. But... perhaps there was a part of him that knew it was more fun to be a little goading.
"Tired already? I thought you'd be thriving." Rafael commented - though it was true, he really did think that Cody would be revelling in being the centre of attention the entire time, and being amidst the crowds of people, drinking and talking. "Though if you need a ride home I'm sure one of your new buddies will give you one. Whenever they finish... usually two or three in the morning..."