#I got so focused on drawing Connie's face that I forgot posting something for the last day of RepostoberW haha

[screwpinecaprice]

He's doing the eyebrows dance.

Cleaned up some sketch posted earlier this year!

[lackofhonor]

Narcos Episode 01.09 – “No, I have not been duck hunting, you... fucking hillbilly.” – Javier Peña

So this is supposed to be fun?” Javi asked sarcastically. 

Murphy lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder at his partner. Javier Peña was hunched over on the bench seat in the boat with a cigarette clenched between his grit teeth. The orange coal of the lit cigarette casting a tiny glow in the grey gloom of the morning. They had been on the water for maybe two hours and while Steve found the air refreshing, it was clear that his friend was finding this morning’s hunt less than invigorating.

Two weeks ago Steve had convinced Javier to come up from Texas for a visit. He had spoken with Javi via phone many times after what had happened with Escobar. Truly, Javi deserved to be there for when the fucker fell, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, Javier had been sitting in Texas waiting on a disciplinary review for his actions. Still was waiting on that review, in fact. Steve had tried to stay in touch, even as he and Connie tried to gather together their lives in Colombia and move them back to the States. It had been a monumental challenge for him personally and professionally but the strain was worth it to be standing over Escobar in the end. And it had ended for him with taking that last photo of the bastard dead on the roof. It had ended for him when he and Connie stepped on that plane flying out of Colombia. Hadn’t it?

Yeah.

But had it for Javi? Well that was the question, wasn’t it?

-

Steve couldn’t help but feel his friend still had loose ends from Colombia in his head that needed tying. Y’know, beyond the fact Peña’s career was on the line with this review board shit. No, Javi still wanted some blood. Via their phone calls, Steve had gathered that all Javi had done since hitting stateside was drink liquor and fuck women. And while that was pretty much Javi’s M.O. throughout the entire time Steve had known him, normally Javi didn’t seem so depressed while going about his chosen extra-curriculars. Sometimes he fucked or drank away the stress or was sullen and frustrated. Sure, that was fine. But this was something darker and sadder than a typical bender.

So during their most recent weekly phone call, Steve did what anybody would do for a friend: told him the truth (“You need a hobby that isn’t fucking women or drinking yourself to death, Javi.”) and invited him on a trip (“Come on out and see Connie and I. Relax for a bit. Take your mind off this review board shit for a while so you can get your head on straight.) Javier Peña, being a reasonable man who recognizes that perhaps he may not exactly be dealing with things well, gave in with some reluctance (“…yeah. Yeah I guess I could come out and see you guys for a weekend. Not like I have much to do here until the hearing anyway… “) So of course Steve Murphy felt the need to try broadening his friend and former partner’s horizons by introducing a potential new hobby (“Great! We can celebrate for real with you here. There’s this band Connie’s been dying to see so we can hit that up. Plus the season just opened Sunday and I’ve not been since before I was posted in Miami. We’ll be able to go duck hunting while you’re down here.”).

-

This chain of events lead to the current moment with both men sitting in a olive drab john boat that had seen better days and Steve’s cousin’s dog sitting in the floor next to their feet. They were floating on the choppy waves of a muddy river looking out over nearly one hundred duck decoys bobbing in the freezing water. It was a cold day. The sky couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to spit light rain or tiny frozen drops at them and the wind cut at their faces. The boat was tied to posts sunk into the riverbed that were part of a blind covered in camouflaged netting and live willow branches. Sort of a little faux tunnel the boat could hide in. Murphy had stealthily steered their vessel inside that morning after a truly harrowing ride across the water just before dawn. Murphy was calm. Soaking in the sounds, smells and sights around him. He maneuvered the boat with ease and stroked the Benelli shotgun with a fondness that spoke of years of similar experiences when he had loaded it earlier. Javier on the other hand was not as charmed. His shoulders were bunched up to his ears trying to maintain valuable heat in his neck and head and he hunched over the borrowed Remington 870 in his lap as he stared blankly at the horizon.

“Stop your whining. Isn’t this nice? You get out in nature. Enjoy some fresh air.” Steve shared in his low friendly baritone. He took a moment to drink some hot coffee from the dented green metal thermos by his feet and observed the sky contentedly.

Javi grunted and continued to puff at his cigarette as he curled further inward. He felt miserable. He was still a bit hungover from the night before to tell the truth. The wind had changed direction again and the bitch was cold as hell right in his face. He didn’t come here to be tortured by Murphy’s idea of what a healthy past time should be.

“I’m freezing my ass off in a rinky dink boat decorated in switchgrass at the ass crack of dawn so you can get this bullshit out of your system. I did not need to come along for this hillbilly holiday,” Javier complained loudly. Murphy merely hushed him with a look and continued to sip his coffee and pet the black Labrador laying in the floor of the boat.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You got to eat a nice hot breakfast at least. Homemade biscuits and eggs fresh from the chicken’s butt. And Ace here likes you,” Steve said. Javi grumbled under his breath but did give the dog a fond scratch behind the ears.

From the slate colored sky above came a chorus of quacking, signaling the incoming flock of about thirty mallards from the south. Outlined against the ominous grey clouds above the river Javier could make out the green heads and lighter colored feathers of the birds. Steve fumbled for his duck call and gave some rapid fire noise that he had tried to explain to Javier the day before was a “hail call”. It was meant to draw the ducks in closer.

“Take your time. Let them get in close enough. Remember what I told you: swing through. Butt, belly, beak then bang!” Steve tells Javi sotte voce. They both ready their weapons as the birds approach.

“Alright, take ‘em!” Murphy hisses when the birds are in range. Javi leans into the gun and squeezes the trigger through the arc as he follows their quarry. The sky explodes with sound and two birds drop from the sky into the watter below. “Good job man!” Murphy cheers and high-fives Javi.

Maybe this hillbilly crap isn’t so bad, Javi thinks to himself as Murphy gives the dog a gruff command that has it launching itself form the boat into the water. It is kind of nice to hear the lapping of the water on the boat’s hull, the gentle flutter and soothing noises of the birds. The river in late fall is beautiful in its own way. It is stark and wild with all the green faded away now for the season, but still beautiful. Javi observes how his friend is so relaxed in this environment and cannot help but crack a smile.

“Good boy Ace! Come on, come on!” Murphy calls as the black dog paddles back to the boat. The dog is determinedly swimming back to them with head above water with the downed bird. Murphy is moving around inside the blind now. He seems to be poking around searching for something when he starts to curse.

“What’s the matter?” Javi asks as he removes the hood on his sweatshirt from over the camo baseball cap Steve had loaned him. It’s still cold, but maybe the adrenaline of the moment earlier has warmed him some.

“Fuck, I forgot the ramp this morning. It’s this thing I stick on the back of the boat so Ace can get back in the boat on his own. I coulda sworn I stuck it in here this morning.” Steve is rummaging behind the extra life jackets and decoys.

Javi shrugged and looked out to see the dog treading water over the side. Javi could barely keep his eyes open when Steve woke him up at 4 a.m., shoved his feet into a pair of chest waders and tossed him a dark green hoodie with the words ‘Ducks Unlimited’ on the chest and an old camo coat. Although he did wake up pretty quickly once they got the boat on the rive and he had the icy spray from the speeding boat and wind in his face.

“What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t get in the boat dumbass. He can’t swim like that forever. He’ll get tired,” Murphy stated, “I’ll just take the boat off the pylons and we’ll beach on the shore real quick. He’ll follow and he can climb up the rocks onto the boat.” Murphy began the process of untying the boat from the mooring posts and unlashing parts of the boat hide that made up the floating duck blind. Javi looked over the side again at the plucky little retriever. Big, bright, rusty brown eyes in a handsome black face stared back while the animal continued to paddle away, duck still firmly clamped between its jaws. He could see the nostrils of the animal widen as it huffed air in, still treading water. It wasn’t that big of a dog. 80lbs maybe? He could just scoop it out of the water. Easy.

Javi stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

Murphy wasn’t paying attention at first. Too focused on untying his complicated knot from when he tied up earlier. He felt the boat sway as his friend moved. But out of the corner of his eye did he see Javi lean over the side of the boat for the dog. His eyes widened. “Javi, no-.”

“Come on big boy, I gotcha.” Javi called to the dog as he leaned for over into the water to scoop up the animal. He had it about balanced right. The dog was barely out of reach. If he could lean just a little further now.

“Come on Ace. Oh shi-!” Murphy watched as his partner tipped headfirst over the side.

Two seconds later the spluttering dark headed man surfaced right next to the boat cursing a storm. Ace, the mallard still clutched in his mouth, whined continuously and paddled around Javi in the truly frigid water. Steve reached out a hand to his friend in the water, bracing himself off the motor in the back of the boat. “Swim over here. I can get you back on without capsizing off the stern,” he instructed.

Javi carefully kicked and stroked his powerful arms to the back of the boat and grabbed Steve’s hand.

“Alright, on three I am gonna haul you up but you gotta push yourself onto the boat at the same time.”

Javi nodded.

“Alright, ready…three!” Steve groaned and heaved the sopping man out of the water so that his top half was wedged onto the boat. Javier used his elbows and shoulders to drag himself fully inside and flopped into the hull with a grunt.

Steve laughed and shook his head as he watched his friend cough and shiver. He was ok. He’d be a little cold but Steve would set him right in a minute. At least now he didn't look so moody, like he had been sucking on a lemon, like he had looked all morning. No, now Javi looked like a drowned rat. Although Steve wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Javi straightened himself up, sitting on his knees and glaring at his friend. But before he could open his mouth the persistent whining of the dog interrupted. Steve peered over the edge of the stern of the boat. Ace doggedly paddled with the bird still in his maw.

“Alright buddy, hang on. You think we can pull him over together or you need a bit?” Steve asked Javi as the man tried to wring out part of the ancient camouflage coat that he had loaned him that morning. Javi rolled his eyes and positioned himself in the stern, carefully bracing himself on the side as Murphy was also doing. Together they carefully reached down into the water and hauled out the black lab and rolled him into the boat, dropping a good amount of water back into the boat.

The dog leapt to its feet and presented his prize to his master. A job well done surely. Murphy ruffled Ace’s ears after plucking the bird from the dog’s mouth and handed it to Javier.

“Your first duck hunt and your first duck. What do you think Javi?” The blonde man grinned at him so widely Javi couldn’t help but return the smile as he took the duck from his friend.

“Y’know, all things considered-“

Javi was interrupted by a truly massive full body shake from Ace, spraying he and Murphy with even more freezing water. Soaked to the bone, water dripping off the bill of his cap and desperately in need of a smoke he looked down at the black dog, its tail thumping furiously on the floor of the boat. He thought about the way that early morning fog had looked on the water and the duck he would eat later with Murphy’s hick relatives. He though about the money he spent for a license and duck stamp that would go back to preserving more habitat. He thought about the quiet and the trees and the way the biting wind felt. Javi wiped the water from his face and kneeled down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears with one hand while he still held the duck.

It was fun.

Kinda.

The dog shook itself again. More water went flying. Javi scowled.

“Have we fed your inner redneck enough for today? Cause I have enough for a lifetime I think,” he huffed, searching the pocket of the duck coat to see if his precious cigarettes were dry enough to be lit.

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as Javi cupped the flame toa damp, mangled white paper cylinder. “Tell you what, next year I’ll come to Texas and play cowboy with you and your Dad on the ranch instead, ok?”

Javier’s eyes lit up. “Don’t get too cocky there, hillbilly. We’ll have to see how you measure up at ropin’ and drinking whiskey.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started the boat motor for home.