nishroy

[nishroy]

The announcement of his luck made Nish raise his eyebrows. "Oh? Well that's a nice change of pace." He smiled. It wasn't the cat's fault. He could only imagine how upsetting and disconcerting it must be for them. And he was still going to have one of the Techs help him out. But he'd wanted to see Julie first.

He walked around the little exam room island as Julie put the carrier on top of it. Looking down at the covered carrier as she told him about how this one had caught her attention. He took his glasses out of his white coat pocket and slid the wire rims on as he took the blanket off. "Hello Bao, we're gonna just have a small look-see." The mention of the fire changed something subtly on his face, a small tightening of his jaw. But he nodded at what the concern was. "We can listen to his lungs and then see if he needs an x-ray."

He finally looked up and caught Julie looking at the doors. "They'll wait until I tell them we're ready." Meaning the Techs. The question made Nish think for a moment. He shrugged, finding the easiest but most truthful response, "Busy. Always busy these days it seems..." The question about trouble made him shake his head but looking at his long time friend his face was a little more open than he would with a great many others. He knew telling her not to worry about him would be silly. "I'm alright." Probably... Maybe... Who knew at this point? "Shouldn't I be the one asking you how you're doing? But if you are sick of that question. We can start with how are the kids doing?" He would be beside himself if something happened to the Horseshoe. That was the problem with finally having something that was yours. Especially when you hadn't had much of anything growing up. At least that was true for him.

Starter for @nishroy

When: Present

Where: Horseshoe Hospital -> Pastry Paws

Bao, unlike most of the feral cats she rescued, didn't yowl or hiss when scared. Bao went into complete coward mode, which meant the fluffy cat was pressed as close to the corner of the carrier as possible. Some of his fluff poked out from the vents on the cage. She peered at him under the blanket's corners, cooing as he shook. "It's just a check-up, bud," she said in an attempt to reassure the cat.

She didn't get to say more as the examination room's door squealed on its hinges. Bao's pupils dilated further. "You're in luck," Julie announced to Nish. "I think this one is less spicy than my usual suspects."

Julie gently placed the carrier on the table, waiting to take the blanket off. "His name's Bao. Caid got him out of the fire at the salon, so I just want to make sure his lungs are going to be alright. He wheezes sometimes," she explained, glossing over the salon and its fire for the time being.

Instead, she looked over her shoulder for a sign of a shadow under the door. None that she could see. "How have things been?" She asked, more in reference to the Cowboy Mafia than the office itself, but the two were beginning to overlap it seemed. "No one's giving you trouble have they?"

[nishroy]

"I'm not exactly a demolition expert either. But yeah, plastic explosives a lil bit goes a long way." Nish rolled his eyes but it was good natured. He nodded, "I was." Looking down at his hands, pointing to a light scar on his right one, "Pretty sure this is a magnesium burn from one. But who's keeping track? Who doesn't make it out of childhood with at least a few scars?" Physically, mentally, emotionally... He shrugged.

"Common sense? In this economy? You're telling me you haven't heard that there's a shortage." Most of his Tech's were good people. And the state of Arizona required all of them to at least have a degree. But the last few months had made him wonder how well he really knew his staff? His mind got dragged back to the present, it was good for him, spending time with Beck. Reminded him that he did fit in Paxton. That there were people that knew him. Beck was one of those. He laughed thinking of Beck standing in front of his tech's, all five feet of him giving them a dressing down. "You don't think college kids curse or something? It'd probably be good for them."

Anish understood the deep connection people had to their animals. Especially the animals that became a part of someone's soul. And he let Beck go through his emotions without comment. Just a soft nod, "I didn't say he was. But he's earned a cushy retirement package. Whatever that looks like for the both of you. And you don't need me telling you shit you already know. He'll tell you what he needs. I just do the check-ups." Nish nodded when Beck talked about trail riding and cow watching. Horses were some of the most empathetic creatures, each with a distinct personality. Nish was very quickly distrusting of anyone that struggled to understand that animals had rich emotional lives. Or people that treated them only like tools, major red flags.

The barrage of question had been expected. He took out his phone to scroll through his photos. "Bay roan, Quarterhorse. Hang on, hang on." He finally found the photos and handed his phone over. "Here. I know you're picky. I have a good chunk of the information in my phone notes. But yes, she's been worked on a ranch doing roping and cattle, no show pen."

"You think I know what that means?" Beck teased. "Is C4 small? I don't fuck with explosives much, 'cept when it's me and the boys with our illegal fireworks. Pretty sure you were there for a couple of those times at least. It's a miracle we didn't blow our fingers off." It was just a rite of passage, the type of shit kids got up to, just like climbing trees that were way too tall for them and popping wheelies on the family's ATVs with no helmets on.

"Just 'cause I got common sense? Damn, do people not have that any more?" Judging by some of the stories they'd heard from clients, probably not. People could have their fancy educations and their degrees in animal behavior, but Beck learned by experience, and experience was the best teacher, even if it was a harsh one at times. "I think my talks would have too many curse words, and I'd spend a good portion of it sayin' geld your fucking stallions if you don't know what you're doing with 'em, ya idiots."

Talking about Whiskey made Beck emotional. He was a good horse. It was almost a miracle Beck had been able to make a work horse outta him like they had. You had to go back three generations before you found any money-earners on his papers, and even that was in Western Pleasure, which basically just equated to walking in a circle. "It ain't like he's lame or nothin'. He likes to do stuff. Got that worker's attitude, but it just might gotta be a more laid back kinda work in the next few years."

Beck had worked with a bunch of horses over the years, and they'd had a few prospects or sale horses they kept for a while, but none of them were forever horses like Whiskey. "He might have to just do some nice trail riding or cow watching. I always listen to what he's tellin' me." Horses weren't machines, and one of the quickest ways to lose Beck's respect was to treat 'em like they were. They could do amazing things, and they liked to have a job, but that didn't mean you had to run them ragged.

"What kinda mare?" Beck asked. That could've meant anything from a pony to a draft horse. "I'm a pretty picky buyer. You got pictures, know who's on her papers, if she's been worked?" Jesus, one question at a time, Beck.

[nishroy]

The sound of his name made Anish relax a little as he walked into the Roundup. "Hi Tim." Looking around but he had figured that at this time it would be mostly empty. "First one in, last one out?" He called to Tim as he walked over to the other's office. His eyes were immediately drawn to the whiteboard, knowing enough to understand that it was a blueprint for whatever they had cooking up. But on first glance the logic behind it escaped him.

He gestured to the board when he was told to ignore it, "Just looking at it gives me a headache." He looked around for a chair to park himself in. Looking at the bag. And again, feeling himself relax a little bit. The question was expected. He'd been honestly waiting for it from any of the Top Hands. But being as busy as he was either in the Clinic or doing on site calls he was hard to pin down. He listened quietly, but that was always been who he had been, sit back and assess before jumping into anything. "How should I be after hearing that he was poisoned?" More like put down like a dog... literally. He might not have liked Randall but he had never wanted something like this to happen. Nish sighed, rubbing his neck and shook his head, "I get it. We're all busy. But to answer your question I have been... not great." He looked at Tim, they'd actually become friends during college, away from Paxton. So the small town weight felt a little bit lighter around the other man. He also felt a different type of kinship with Tim than some of the others because of it, a shared experience between them. But his worry about the Pentobarbital was slowly becoming a deep paranoia. And every day he didn't turn up a name only increased it. Because he knew how it would look.

Starter for @nishroy

When: Present

Where: The Paxton Roundup (after hours)

“Nish!” Tim greeted as soon as the door chimed his arrival. With it being an hour since the office closed for the day, the Roundup was basically empty. Except for Tim, of course, and now Nish. Tim turned in his office chair. The whiteboard off to the left of his desk was covered in diagrams and frenetic scrawls. They were planning for the next issue which meant relative chaos for anyone who didn’t understand the madness.

“Ignore that,” Tim said with a wave at the board. He sat a greasy paper bag onto the coffee table — takeout from Mesa. “How’ve you been since Elias got the second report about Randall Kastings? I’ve been meaning to ask before now, but the last issue took up a lot of time between Oceanview and Grayson Hall’s passing, it’s been difficult to keep track of everything not day-job related.”

[nishroy]

Nish nodded, a small smile as he wrote the placeholder name on the paperwork. "Easy to remember at least." And while he couldn't be one hundred percent sure it was likely that the cat would turn out being male. He thought about Corey not wanting to give the cat an actual name because of the worry that the cat might not make it. But from the way that Corey was holding the cat and how content the cat was there in their arms it was probably a little late to be trying to avoid an emotional connection.

The sigh had him looking at the other and shrugged, "There's a reason why I feel compelled to say these things. I can't tell you how many people with the best of intentions bring in a stray and then balk at the price tag." But when Corey said that the cat would need somewhere safe and comfortable he nodded. "Yes." He waited until he heard that sound in Corey's voice. The one that he listened for. The desire to see it through. Nish nodded his head, "We'll take good care of him. I promise." He paused and said, "The surgery is about two thousand. Add everything else and you're looking somewhere closer to 28 hundred." He knew that it was a large amount and that most people needed to figure out how to weather that. "We have some payment plan options, the receptionist can talk to you about them when she puts the numbers together. Today it's $175. That will go towards the total." Nish opened a cupboard in the exam room and pulled out a clean fluffy towel. "Do you want me to take him? Or do you want to walk with me to the back so you can see where he'll be? We'll do the bloodwork right away and get him on the surgery schedule."

"I guess we can just call him Orange Boy for now." Corey remembered hearing that almost all orange cats were male. Not that they'd checked out his junk to make sure of it. It wasn't exactly as obvious to the untrained eye as it was with dogs or horses, especially if he'd had a home before and already been neutered. The receptionist had already checked for a microchip and hadn't found one, so the odds of him having a home now were slim, not with the amount of time he'd been outside based on the way his fur was barely covering up the bones under his skin. If someone had cared for him once, they weren't in the picture anymore.

"You're tugging on my heart strings, doc," Corey sighed. What were they supposed to do? Just dump him at a shelter or something? It wasn't like Corey had a bunch of spare cash lying around, but they couldn't in good conscience leave this guy to his own devices. "If you gotta take his eye out, he's gonna need somewhere safe and comfy to recover." Corey hoped there wasn't anything else seriously wrong with him. They'd unfortunately already found themselves attached, with a need to protect the poor creature. He seemed to have nobody else in his corner, and Corey was a sucker for an underdog. "I'll figure it out. Whatever it is. Just do what you can for him, please?"

[nishroy]

[nishroy]

Nish looked at Beck, his smile a little softer as he said, "You're C4, Beck. Small, but with a disproportionately big bang." But Nish understood the need to own the thing that could hurt you. If Beck owned the joke then no one else could use it against them. He shrugged, "I am very aware that you could kick my ass if you wanted and I have made my peace with that years ago."

Listening to Beck talk about what to tell the first timers made him happy. He made a small noise as he pointed at the the younger of them, "You see? That's what I'm talking about. That right there. I should have you come talk to some of my vet techs." Nish would never disparage the work it had taken him to get his PhD. But growing up on and around ranches and farms he also knew that there were some things that you just couldn't be taught when it came to working with animals. Especially horses. Nish chuckled, "Sometimes shit happens... That is some deep cowboy wisdom right there." He thought he should get that put on his gravestone.

"Hey, hey, I'm single by choice. Conscious singleness. Much to my mother's very vocal dismay." He glanced at Beck's face as they mentioned a girl. "Did you?" He frowned wondering where he'd been during that, or if it just fell under one of those, things we don't talk about places. He adjusted his arms where he was leaning. The soft pause made Nish say, "So... just to be clear, what you're saying is that I my opening line to my dates shouldn't be telling them that the warmest place on a ranch in the winter is up a cow's ass?"

It was a dumb question and he nodded, "It is. But saying I already knew the answer would've been dumb and dooshy." He watched Beck light another and said nothing. Even if he didn't smoke much he wasn't about to get on people about their vices. He had heard the saying, if you have a job you love you never work a day in your life. Which he thought was absolute bullshit, he worked, he worked hard. But it was a love, a legacy and an obsession. Death gripping onto things that the world was trying to change. The reason why he wore a brand on his chest for it. He thought about the skinny kid he'd been, trying so hard to prove himself. "A very distinguished senior citizen..." Nish knew what Whiskey meant to Beck.

He nodded at the statement about his annual coming up and the reason why Beck had been putting it off. He didn't look at Beck, looking instead out at the sky. "If you know what I'm going to tell you. Then it's time. Me saying it or not won't change anything. Everyone deserves a good retirement." He felt a small lump in his throat. It had been talking about his Dad that caught him, and the fact he'd never gotten a retirement himself. Nish cleared his throat and took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt before putting them back on. "Might be a little early to say. But I know someone who has a mare they are looking to sell. They were planning on using her for breeding but they've gotta downsize. I'd rather she go to you than some stranger that won't know what to do with her. And I could probably help you get a good price."

"Y'know the reason I make the height jokes about myself is so it doesn't hurt my feelings when you guys do it." Beck was consistently the youngest and smallest amongst a bunch of big brothers, literal and figurative. They'd learned from an early age that if they got defensive and annoyed about it, their older friends and siblings would just tease them more. Instead, they'd grown up to occupy an aura of 'five foot tall but would still beat your ass'. It didn't bother them anymore when friends did it. Beck laughed it off, embraced it.

"They'll be alright. Just tell 'em the mare knows what she's doing better than most of us, and let her do her thing, and not to fuckin' try and pet the foal all the time." Unless something went wrong, human intervention was usually unnecessary. Beck had been around countless foals being born, and only a handful of times had they ever needed real vet care in those early stages. "Course, it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Sometimes shit happens."

Beck snickered at the word 'glamour'. Not something the two of them would ever claim to possess. "Yeah, nothing more glamorous than being elbow deep in a cow or smelling like horse shit all the time. Any wonder we're both single? I almost broke the curse with a girl who was as horse-crazy as me, but she's gone now." Funny that Beck had tried to convince Ophelia to leave town the moment they'd realized she was here, and she had insisted she was staying. Then the moment her father found another business opportunity to chase outside of Paxton, they'd all up and left again. Kinda served Beck right. He'd ditched her once. Having her ditch him was only fair. At least he knew where she was going, a courtesy he'd never afforded her when he'd cut out all those years ago.

"Why horses is such a dumb question," Beck snickered, rolling their eyes and lighting another cigarette, another action that would probably get them a bunch of eye-rolls in medical school, even if it was vetinary school. "Just always liked 'em. My parents were farm and ranch folk, so my siblings and I, we all were too. Was helping with the chores since I was old enough to walk. Horses always felt right." Beck knew how fortunate they were to have something they loved so much, to make a life and career out of it. "Can you believe you were around when I first got Whiskey before he was even fully broke to ride, and now he's an old man?" Beck had been so excited, calling all their friends over to meet their birthday present. They couldn't wait to ride around on the barely started three-year-old horse. He was the first horse Beck had ever trained.

"He's due his annual soon." Beck bit the inside of their cheek. "Kinda already got a feeling what you're gonna tell me, though. Maybe that's why I'm putting it off." Beck loved Whiskey more than almost anything. They'd do what was best for him ultimately, and they had already been decreasing his workload, but the truth was, if they planned on continuing to ride as much as they wanted, if they wanted to hit up the occasional show and do the really long trail rides, they were going to need another horse sooner rather than later. Hopefully Whiskey had many more years in him, but they'd just be more relaxed years.

[nishroy]

It was only a matter of time before Caid or one of the others showed up. After doing a cursory check Anish turned the care of Alf over to the Vet techs. This was well within their wheelhouse and he knew that delegating was the only way he would stop from run himself into the ground. He poured everything he had into the Horseshoe, into the community that needed a competent specialist to help care for their animals. Which was why the missing vials had been such a punch to the gut. Being needed was something Nish fed on, it helped keep him going. Having a purpose had always been his saving grace. And someone was fucking with his purpose either without thinking or on purpose.

The request had the Vet looking up at Caid, trying to gauge the others demeanor. But he nodded, "Yeah. Of course. Come on, we can get the paperwork started." He walked them through the back, passing the boarding kennel and through the treatment area. He opened a door to an exam room and went across to the front door to make sure the receptionist knew the room was in use. He closed it and leaned against it, folding his arms over this chest. "This is about as private as we can get. What did you want to talk about?" He had his suspicions but it was always better not to assume.

starter for @nishroy

at horseshoe hotel

post plot drop 3

Caid was more in a solemn mood than usual. He tended to be more business minded during the day when he was in a regular head space, but these were far from regular times. If it had become apparent to anyone, it was Caid, who saw the signs for what they were: war. Or at least the beginning of it. He was here on the false premise of a feedlot horse. The ugly roman nosed roan named Alf was something to behold, somehow he managed to get himself in a fence and cut himself, as horses do. While the vet tech's looked over the scraps — it wasn't that serious at all, Caid just didn't want the animal to go untreated — he nodded to Nish. "You have a minute to talk? Maybe somewhere a little more... private?"

[nishroy]

Nish had been keeping hours like this since he was a teen. It was at the point that if he wasn't up before sunrise he must be deathly ill. And even that wasn't a guarantee. Driving his truck down the familiar road to the Blue Rooster. His mind was still preoccupied with the idea that someone might be trying to set him up to take the fall for what had happened to Randall. Nish wanted to believe that his word would be enough. That he didn't know who took his drugs but without another direction to point he was feeling uneasy with how any of those talks would go. Thankfully people hadn't been looking in his direction much at the moment but he knew that wasn't guaranteed to last. And he couldn't really go around asking lots of leading questions without drawing the very attention he was trying to avoid.

Nish pulled his truck into his spot and got out. He opened the back pulled out everything he was gonna need for the morning. The last thing a vet wanted to do was get to a ranch or out to a pasture and realize he didn't have the shit he needed. He carried his bags as he walked the very well known paths over to the barn. His eyes caught the flash of a lighter and shifted towards that direction.

He was teaching Murph the basics this morning. All the things that any ranch hand needed to know to make sure that things that could lead to disaster didn't get missed. Nish knew he had to be wholly here and not in his head worrying about other things. He couldn't do his job right if his brain was somewhere else. And being distracted wouldn't help Murph either. So he took a deep breath cracking his neck as he walked over to the older man," 'Morning Murph."

He didn't tell the other man to put out his cigarette. He'd have to but there was enough time to let the man smoke. His mother used accuse him of having a soft spot for 'strays' something he'd hated hearing over the years. Especially when she started using the term towards people rather than the animals he'd nurse back to health in his bedroom. But looking at the other man Nish knew that his mom would classify the guy in that category. But everyone had to start somewhere. And unless it was a safety concern he didn't see a reason to be a dick about the things the other man didn't know. He took out his book that he wrote herd notes in looking through the plan for the day. "Okay. Basics today. We aren't doing hooves. But if we see anything that raises a concern we can get the number of the cow for a follow up. This is really just about getting a feel for the herd and each of the individuals so you can know what is and isn't a red flag." He paused and looked up, "I'm gonna talk a lot so if you need me to stop tell me to stop." He closed his book and slipped it back into his bag. "You can finish your coffee and cigarette. You'll need them." He got down and checked his bags for the third or maybe forth time. He new he wasn't missing anything but it kept his brain occupied. He glanced up, "Do you have any questions before we start?"

who: closed for @nishroy where: the Blue Rooster when: approx. 6:55 am

In the six months he's been at the Blue Rooster, Murph has yet to get used to the intense schedule required of a working ranch hand. Every day, he's up well before dawn, operating on autopilot as he stumbles around in the dark, pulling on stiff, grass stained Levis and starting the shared coffee pot.

(He owes everything to that coffee pot. If it weren't for the three daily cups of Folgers that he's come to rely on, he'd be probably be dead by now. Or worse - unemployed.)

As the sun makes her appearance on the eastern horizon, Murph cradles his liquid lifeline in a cheap paper cup as he pulls the heavy door to the bunkhouse closed behind him. He's got a full day ahead, starting with a wellness check of the cattle that have been grazing out on plot three. The Rooster's preferred vet, Dr. Roy, is due any minute to show him some of the basics: signs of injury or illness, indicators of poor diet or undue stress. Animal husbandry, like most of the tasks on this ranch, is new to him - but he doesn't really have a choice: he's gotta learn.

Juggling his still-steaming coffee and an unlit cigarette, he leans back against the side of one of the out-buildings to wait, suppressing a shiver at the lingering chill in the air. Digging a flimsy Bic lighter out of his jacket pocket, he lights up with a relieved sigh, grateful for the mix of caffeine and nicotine now running through his veins.

[nishroy]

Nish had enough sense to look apologetic. It wasn't like he could talk about what had been weighing on him anyway. He shrugged, "Just a lot on my plate right now." The comment about the step-stool made him chuckle, looking down at Beck with a grin, "Step-stool? Try a ladder, maybe." Nish had known the Tillman's for a long time. And when he'd become a fixture at the Blue Rooster he had spent a lot of time with Tilly trying to learn as much about cattle as he could. And wherever the big Tillman was the little Tillman was not far behind. It had been natural for Nish to fall into that big brother role after everything. Not a replacement. He could never be that but he cared deeply for Beck and wanted to see him get the recognition they deserved. Beck was a good soul just like their big brother had been, cut from the same cloth. He scratched his face again thinking, "I haven't heard of anyone missing a horse. But you're not wrong. People can be such trash."

"I meant I worry about them because they get more nervous than people like you guys that know what to do and also when to call for help. First timers are always naturally jumpy but I'd rather them be that than complacent." Nish made a face when Beck brought up backyard breeders. He shook his head, "Don't you get me started on those people. Watch a few Youtube videos and think they know what they are doing... Again. People. Trash." The things he had seen, the tragedies that could have been avoided. He shook his head. That wasn't a good place for Nish to stay mentally. "But okay, okay, moving right along so you don't combust."

Nish's dark brown eyes drifted down to Beck at the question. He shrugged again and took another drink of his beer. "Why not? That was over a decade ago, Beck. Think of all the things you know now. You'd be surprised I bet." He knew that for some people school just wasn't in the cards. But Nish also knew Beck's natural aptitude and genuine love for horses. He snorted at the idea of degrees in riding. "They call that Equine studies. You could pass that in your sleep, it'd be a waste of money and time."

The mere mention of Obsidian Holdings made Nish turn his head and spit. "That's not really the type of horse vet I want to hire. I want someone that will actually want to get to know the locals, build relationships. Not just suck up to Obsidian or one of their cronies." He thought about Castle Rock when Beck mentioned fancy resorts, a dark cloud drifting across his face. But he was happy to move onto a different topic, even if it was a personal one. "Well the glamour obviously." He gestured to himself and all his lanky, exhausted, mud stained glory. He shook his head and finished his beer, "No. Uhm, I guess it was my Dad. He had a degree from his country but it didn't carry over to the US. When I was twelve he finally went back to school to get his certifications and licenses." He got quiet for a moment and looking around threw his bottle in the trash, clearing his throat, "So, you see? Never to late." He looked down at Beck and put a hand on their shoulder, "I'd ask you why horses. But... I think it's kinda in your Tillman blood. "

"Got your head in the freaking clouds," Beck chuckled, taking another drag of their cigarette. "I gotta get on a step-stool to reach you if you're gonna be all the way up there." Beck had always admired Nish. He was a good dude, and had a naturally protective nature. He was a big brother at heart, and Beck was a little brother. It only seemed natural that they were drawn to one another like that. "One of her neighbors or something found it. Some people do shitty things when they can't afford their animals anymore. Some people just have all the best intentions and do shit wrong. Or some people do everything right and accidents can happen. Could be any number of reasons he got loose."

"Everyone breeder has a first time. It's the backyard ones that you gotta worry about. Don't get me started on those people." Bad breeders and people who kept stallions with no idea how to handle them were some of Beck's biggest pet peeves, one of the reasons he was so grateful to have a job with such a reputable program. Working with Faye was honestly a dream. Bad breeders, bad trainers, bad owners, they could all ruin a good horse. "I'll get pissed, and smoke'll start coming out of my ears as well as out of my mouth."

The idea of Beck becoming a vet was laughable. That much school? They'd barely made it through the school they'd been forced to go to, let alone anything extra. "You think I'm passing college level biology? I barely got my GED. I don't even got qualifications in what I do now. Just left home at eighteen and begged for experience." There were people in Beck's line of work that had been to college for things like Equine Behavior or Equine Science, but most of the trainers Beck worked with or crossed paths with had learned based on hands on experience. "Shit, there's colleges that do degrees in riding now, ain't there? I could maybe pass that one. If someone else paid my tuition. Don't need a piece of paper to tell me how to do my job."

Beck's cigarette was, unfortunately, dead, so they stubbed it out in the ash tray of the outdoor table. "You'd think with those Obsidian fucks taking over the town, it might attract some people to take a job here. Ain't that their whole purpose? Guess everyone is too busy tryna work at one of their fancy resorts instead." Beck wrinkled their brow. "Don't know if I ever asked. What made you wanna be a vet anyways?"

[nishroy]

"Not particularly. It's whatever you want us to call him." Anyone willing to pick up a stray like the person here and bring them in got a little more understanding from the Vet than some others might. He'd needed to be more thoughtful when dealing with humans after September and all the fallout and worries he had. But this was a problem he could solve. One that he new the answers to. Nish did wonder about the calmness. If it was lethargy or something else that could be more serious. Or if the cat distribution system had just worked it magic in the universe again.

"Sure, no one likes bad news. But some people like to get it out of the way first." But Nish could see something in their gaze as he straightened up. And he softened a little as he watched Corey cradle the cat. "Everything I say is dependent on you taking him. If you turn him over to the local humane society... Well they don't have the resources out here. And animal control..." He shook his head, and hoped that his meaning was clear. "He'll need a full blood work up to be sure there isn't anything else going on with him. If that comes back clean, that's a great sign. However, I'm pretty sure that eye is going to have to go. After that, so long as there are no complications, he could be perfectly healthy and happy for many more years. He'll need to stay here for a day or two. After that there will be medications you will need to give him and tending to the surgery site. He's going to need you to see him through all of that. Before we get there he needs to be cleaned, the small injuries need to be treated, possibly a dewormer." Nish paused letting all the things he'd just said sink in for a moment. "Do you want to know how much you're probably looking at?"

"Orange Stray Cat can be his name if it makes it easier for you?" For a creature that had probably been through hell, Stray seemed to be pretty content where he was, but that simply could've been because he was overwhelmed and shutting down. "S'okay, buddy. I got you," Corey murmured, trying to reassure him. He flinched a little as the doctor's hands got closer to his wounds, but didn't try to get out of Corey's arms.

"Nobody likes to hear bad news, right? Ain't that part of the definition?" The answer depended hugely on what he was about to tell them, but at this point, Corey was already here, standing in the waiting room of an unfamiliar clinic with an animal that needed them. They'd been in way too many medical waiting rooms in their life, waited nervously for news; good, bad, ugly. At least, unlike their mom, this was someone Corey might be able to help. "Hit me with both. Who cares what order it's in? Is he gonna be okay?"

[nishroy]

[nishroy]

Who had come up with this idea? Nish had asked this exact question to his sisters as they had driven up the familiar road to Opal Lake. To much hissing and booing from them to him. He sighed and put on a happy face. They had wanted to go out and do something fun. Something that reminded them of their dad. And Nish would never say no. He looked down at his wristband, robber. Better than a cop he supposed.

And for a minute there he actually had been having fun. He had found a spot to hide behind a large rock cursing as touched his jacket pockets and realized his glasses must have fallen out. "Shit." He murmured, looking down scanning with his flash light carefully. He caught the feet first and the gratitude evaporated before he could speak when he realized who it was.

Growing up in a small town like Paxton you learned quick that there was very few things that were truly private. And Nish had always been hyper-focused on how he was perceived by others and it had only gotten worse over the years. Professional. No nonsense. Dependable. Loyal. It was a bit of a joke that he didn't date. Didn't hook up. Just didn't. Except for when he did. Matias was a living reminder why Nish shouldn't drink hard liquor. He looked at his mistake, made one night when he'd had a little too much whiskey and feeling a little too sorry for himself. He wasn't going to try an excuse the other two times... He just blocked them out. His three time mistake, no matter how fun, that he had been avoiding like the plague for the last month. He didn't need the level of trouble that Mat seemed to attract, like flies to manure. He had too much of his own shit to deal with.

Reaching out to take the glasses he said, "Didn't think you were looking..." Seeing the colour of Mat's wristband he snorted as he put his glasses back on. "Thank you." He glanced around realizing he didn't really have anywhere to go except through Mat, he let out a sigh and crossed his arms, "Come on, you gonna move or what, De La Cruz?"

for: nish ( @nishroy ) location: cops and robbers

Matias carefully roamed the camping ground, quietly hiding behind rocks that would cover his entire frame, moving quickly from post to post. He had come out here with a friend and of course that friend was a robber while he was a cop. The irony of him being a cop did not go over his head, and he thought of how funny the police department might find that. Or maybe they would fire whoever was in charge of passing out wristbands for poor judgement. Regardless, he was on a mission to win.

He spots a rather decent sized rock in the distance that seemed perfect enough to hide behind for a bit and come up with a good game plan. Scanning the grounds, making sure no one else was nearby, before quietly and quickly making his way over to the spot. One of the many things about Matias was that he hardly ever was surprised by anything these days, but at times that did happen. Rounding the corner of the giant rock and stumbling upon Nish would be one of those times. Well, shit. His first thought as his eyes adjusted to the person that had become yet another phantom in his life. He looks down to a pair glasses that he almost had stepped on, grabbing them, he reaches out to give them over to the other, “Found you.”

[nishroy]

"Hmm?" Nish asked, realizing he'd been caught half listening. His mind clearly somewhere else. "I'm sorry, Beck. I was a million miles away." He refocused on what the younger of them was saying, looking down at Beck as he explained the issue with the horse. Frowning slightly at the description. "Just out running?" He reached a hand up and scratched his stubble, realizing he'd forgotten to shave again. He wondered what kind of behavioral problems the horse was exhibiting but he knew that Beck would get there eventually. He nodded, "I got a scanner and it's worth a shot. If she'd like me to find out who if anyone is looking for him. I'm not exactly hard to find."

Leaning against the outside of the Lost Horse with Beck and Nish had one of those moments where he thought about the long string of choices he'd made to end up right where he was. No real regrets. What good were regrets anyway? He couldn't imagine himself doing anything else either way. He couldn't imagine Beck doing anything else either. He frowned again when Beck mentioned that the horse was terrified of the barn. He nodded, "Yeah, usually if they aren't socialized right or if, like you said, there is some trauma associated with a barn. Not usually physical. That said, they may just not like going into a dark unfamiliar place or the smell might trigger them..." He lifted his beer and took a drink as Beck exhaled their smoke. Talking animals was easier even if the weight of all the things they weren't talking about was heavy between them. But it was safer these days than speaking about things that shouldn't be over heard. His dark eyes slid over to Beck at the question, "It's good. Still in the black but it doesn't hurt being the only game in town. Trying to advertise for another equine vet. We could use one... But finding people that are willing to relocate instead of trying to commute is a pain in the ass." He gave Beck a grin at the question, "It's the first time breeders that I worry about these days. Most everyone else I know is prepared and we've had lots of time to go over their foaling plans and when they are gonna call me. But a couple more nights of interrupted sleep is just part of the job. Who actually sleeps these days anyway?" He took another sip of beer, "How about you? Don't suppose I could talk you into going to vet school? You know it's never too late. And then I wouldn't have to worry about finding another Equine vet." He was teasing, mostly.

Starter For: @nishroy Location: Outside Lost Horse Saloon

"D'you know Willow? You might've looked at her horses before." In Paxton, most people who had been around long enough had some kind of familiarity with one another, but Beck didn't want to make assumptions. "Reckon she might call you soon. She got this horse in. Found it runnin' wild. Asked me to take a look at him, behavior-wise, but shit, I ain't no vet." It was good to rule out injuries or any physical problems when a horse was experiencing what people might call behavioral problems, and definitely a good idea to get an exam done when you didn't know a horse's history. "Microchipping 'em is becoming more common these days. Maybe if you got a scanner and he has one, might be able to find out who he belonged to."

Beck had known Nish for years. He was a few years older than Beck, but they were both entrenched in animals, especially livestock, and both had a certain brand on their chest. "Son of a gun is terrified of the barn for some reason." Beck had stepped outside to smoke, and there weren't too many folks out here with them. Beck wasn't sure how open to be about Cowboy matters right now, though. Some of the top hands were worried about leaks coming outta the saloon. Talking horses seemed easier. "You ever see somethin' like that? I feel like it's trauma based, to be honest. Can't think of a physical reason they might not like it." Beck took another drag, exhaling the smoke into the cold air. "How're things going at the clinic, anyways? Hope you're ready for foalin' season."

[nishroy]

The afternoons Nish was in the office, working through blood-work and running diagnostics. Today one of the interns had called in sick which meant that they were short staffed. Or well, more short staffed than usual. He answered the page from the front desk, half listening to the receptionist explain that someone had brought in the saddest looking cat they'd ever seen. Which was saying something around Paxton. But it had been enough to get him off of his chair and picking up the very sparse paperwork.

Nish walked into the little room in the clinic, looking at the patient and their accompanying human. He cleared his throat softly at the question. "Hello. Yes, of course. I'm Dr. Roy. You must be Corey and this is.... No name?" Nish put on gloves and came over to the where Corey was holding the cat. "He seems happy with you so no reason to put him on the counter just yet. Let's just take a look see at what we're dealing with shall we?" Reaching out and gently moving the towel just to get a better look at the cat. He spoke out loud but mostly to himself and maybe the to the cat, "You're very calm aren't you... Been through the wringer though and that eye doesn't look good at all." Stray. Had to be from the state of him. Nish carefully used his fingers to palpate the cat, avoiding any of the cuts and scrapes. He glanced up at Corey and asked, "You want the good news or the bad news first?"

Starter for: @nishroy Location: Horseshoe Hospital Vets Time: November 2024

"There, there, little guy." Corey murmured to the orange cat they'd procured from their trash cans. Considering this creature had been running wild but thirty minutes ago, he was surprisingly tame, the most unbothered creature Corey had ever seen, even when he was covered in scrapes and cuts, fur matted and embedded with dirt, terrible cut over his eye. Corey had him wrapped in a towel. They were going to need to throw all these clothes on the hottest cycle their washer-dryer could manage. Couldn't rule out the thing having fleas.

They nestled the creature to their body inside the towel, holding him tight to make sure he didn't try and squirm away. Corey had never had a pet. They didn't really know what the protocol was. They couldn't even give an answer when the lady behind the desk asked for his name. "Shit, I dunno, found him as a stray. He looks in bad shape." The receptionist made some hastily typed words on her keyboard, telling Corey to have a seat. It wasn't long before the vet appeared. "Hey, can you take a look at him?"

[nishroy]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

Name: Anish "Nish" Roy Age: 35 Gender & Pronouns: Cis Male. He/him Occupation: Vet and owner of the Horseshoe Hospital Affiliation and Position: Hand in The Cowboy Mafia Languages spoken: English, Spanish, Bengali DOB: November 15th, 1989 Zodiac: Scorpio Sexuality: bi-sexual/pan-sexual Height: 6' Eye color: Brown Hair color: Black Scars: His brand on his chest, plenty of little ones from spending time out in nature and on ranches around animals. Tattoos: none yet

Positive traits: Loyal, Hardworking, Patient, Compassionate, Cool-headed   Negative traits: Distrusting, Competitive, Stubborn, Obsessive, Secretive Faceclaim: Assad Zaman 

Tw: dug mention, tw: death, tw: drug use

Nish was the oldest and only boy of two parents that immigrated from Bangladesh with two younger sisters. Nish was three when they moved and has really no memories before Paxton. His sisters were born in Paxton and grew up with stories of where their parents came from but no connection to it beyond the way their parents talked about it. With his parents often working several jobs to feed and house three young children, Nish naturally took over a lot of the small day to day things, like making breakfast and getting his sisters ready for school as soon as he was tall enough to reach the buttons on the microwave in the trailer. His parents absence was never because they didn't want to be there, the Roy household never lacked for love. Food maybe, heat and running water sometimes, sure, but never that his parents loved them. And the few weekend mornings when their father would pile them in their junky used car and take them out to Opal lake before work are some of Nish's favorite memories. Time together became even more precious and hard to come by when his Father went to vet school.

When his sisters got a little older and Nish started feeling like he wasn't needed like he had been before. Finding himself with more free time and not sure what to do with himself now that the 'big brother' title didn't require the amount of time it had taken before. Nish began to gravitate towards a few of the kids that seemed to feel like they didn't really have a place either. Nish was always very aware that he came from a very world than a lot of the other kids in Paxton. Sure he had some things in common but he never felt like he really fit. But he finally felt like he could maybe fit somewhere. All he had to do was help them score some weed sometimes. And suddenly he belonged.

But things changed when one he found one of his 'friends' giving a roach to one of his little sisters. The friends evaporated with just a swing of Nish's fist. And that was fine. Nish just put his head down and decided he could do well enough alone. But an anonymous tip later and a thirteen year old Nish was getting arrested for possession on his way home from school. He could never prove it but he is certain it was (The Collector) that turned him and his friends in and those one time friends had hung him out to dry. Something dark got birthed in Nish that day. A deep and bitter spring for snitches and a new deep distrust for others. His age kept him from more than some community service and probation. But he came out of that experience much harder than he'd gone in. He started spending more time out in nature, more time alone. But that was alright. People were disappointing.

Nish and his father never talked about what happened. And that lack of speaking wounded the young Nish deeply. He did everything he could to try and make it up to his parents. To try and get that disappointment and worry out of their eyes whenever they looked at him. He would help make his Father flashcard for his own studies. After his Dad graduated and became a vet he took Nish with him on calls as much as possible. He never said it was because he wanted to keep Nish out of trouble but Nish knew that was why. But he treasured the time and quickly became fascinated with the work and with animals, especially cattle.

The summer before he started high school he was able to talk The Badger into hiring him on. Nish wanted to learn everything he could and there was no job too low on the Blue Rooster Ranch for him to do. Awake and out before dawn every day. It was those long hours spent with The Badger that healed a piece of Nish. He still preferred animals to people. But The Badger helped Nish realize that there were still some people out there that loyalty mattered too. That would reward hard work. To judge people on an individual basis, words meant nothing, it's what someone did that mattered. Nish learned everything he could about cattle operations, finding a second family there.

He worked there throughout high school and saved every penny he earned, even got a few grants and was accepted into a University that had a good veterinary program. He came back every summer back to the Blue Rooster Ranch until he graduated and moved back to Paxton for good. Ready to pay back everything that The Badger gave them. He worked at the Horseshoe Hospital. His Father still also working there, much older and a life of grinding had taken its toll on his dad. But his Father wasn't the type to retire. Watching Obsidian Holdings slowly consume the land and the town was a bitter pill, watching decent people get wrecked by liars and cheaters that didn't care about the damage they did. His father passed five years back of a heart attack after a particularly long and brutally cold night of helping birth a calf. Nish still grieves over the fact that he wasn't successful enough earlier to help his dad have some type of retirement with his mom.

It wasn't long after coming home that Nish was working late and a Cowboy was brought in, he needed a medical attention without anyone in a hospital knowing. And Nish went to work without asking any questions. And when people turned up asking questions Nish happily lied through his teeth. He didn't owe the law or Obsidian Holdings a goddamn thing. And not long after he got his brand. Nish knew that eventually what was happening in town would force everyone to choose a side. And he knew the side he would ride or die with. The one that had the people that had taken care of him when he'd been an angry kid. The ones that had believed in him. Being the owner of the Horseshoe Hospital was a lifelong goal. To own the place that his dad had given his life to. To own something and have it be his. The Horseshoe is his child, his significant other, his whole life.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐂

There’s a hard reality that The Remnant doesn’t want to face. Pentobarbital that was found in Randall’s system aligned with several missing vials from their own cabinet. The Remnant doesn’t want to bring this to the Top Hands until they find the mole in their own office. While the Remnant thinks that Randall was far from clean, they know it’s no coincidence that the Pentobarbital was in their system. It a level of accountability that The Remnant is familiar with, however, they’d be lying if they said they weren’t scared of what the Top Hands, or The Spade, will do when they find out it could have come from their own hospital. So, they must figure out who took the Pentobarbital, or if it was just mistakenly logged.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

The Rowel — The Remnant finds it hard to believe that The Rowel knows nothing. In a way, The Remnant finds The Rowel just as liable as they are. They both had something to do with Randall’s death, even if indirectly, and that makes them accountable on some level.

The Collector — The Collector was always a rat. They grew up in the same trailer park, and the Collector and their family were always causing trouble and harm. The disdain that the Remnant has for them has only grown over the years. It’s true what they say: you can come from the same place but not want to stay in that place.

The Badger — The Remnant was another one of the Badger’s fosters. The Remnant tended to like cattle more, and became obsessed with the care of the animals. The Badger respected The Remnant for this, and was genuinely excited when they got into veterinary school.

More connections:

Younger sister 1- 32-30 years old, The middle child, she had what their parents called a 'wild' streak.

Younger sister 2- 30-28 years old, The baby of the family, much loved and only slightly spoiled.