"Fuck, Tim! I-" Jo panted underneath him, her knuckles turning white from the firm grip she held on the mattress.
"I know, just wait for me."
This was the best part of their relationship, no words actually needed to be exchanged; the other just instinctively knew what they desired in these moments of passion. Tim's movements quickened as Jo tumbled towards euphoria.
"How come we never talk about anything other than work?" His voice broke through the contented solitude of their afterglow.
"Aw, Marshal. You offended that I haven't taken a vested interest in your personal life?" Jo quipped. Her taunt received no audible response, just a hard stare from the man in beside her.
Abandoning the warmth of the now crumpled bedsheets, Jo retrieved one of Tim's button-downs off the floor and wrapped it around her nude figure. Looking at him expectantly, she said, "well, come on then," before heading off towards the kitchen.
From the counter, she retrieved a bottle of whiskey, and, after searching through several cabinets, two tumblers. Placing the items down on the kitchen table, Jo went about filling each glass with the amber liquid while Tim strode into the room, now wearing a set of boxers and nothing else.
Easing herself into one of the kitchen chairs with a ready glass in hand, she slid the other towards his designated seat opposite hers. He raised a brow in inquiry but followed the wordless directive nonetheless.
"You wanna ask, ask away, but it'll cost you a drink," she informed.
He appraised her uncertainly while swirling the liquid around in his own tumbler. "What is this? We playin' twenty questions or something?"
Jo took a precursory swig from the glass before concluding, "something like that. Now, I know you've got questions, and I'll be damned if I'm answering them sober."
The two held eye contact, a tenuous challenge, until Tim finally nodded his head in agreement to the conditions. "Great. You feel free to start, shooter," Jo instructed with a grin.
Tim pondered for a moment, running through the endless list of mysteries he had for the brunette sitting across from him, before settling on, "what were your parents like?" The question wasn't a surprise; Jo's familial relationships had to have been weighing on his mind since the revelation that she was adopted into the Givens family.
After watching him take the mandated pull of whiskey, she finally answered. "They were junkies, criminals. Nothing out of the ordinary for Harlan County."
The monotone way she said it, as though she were discussing the day's weather, had Tim's mind racing. "What happened to them?"
"Ah, ah, ah. That's two questions, buddy. It's no longer your turn," Jo chastised with a pointed finger. How quickly did she want to tread into dangerous territory, she wondered. Granted, he'd already brought up her traumatic childhood, so she thought her first inquiry was only fair. "How often do you have nightmares?" She asked, then downed the contents in her glass.
"How do you know I have nightmares?" Tim shot back. That was the second question he'd asked out of turn, but she decided to let this one pass. "You all do," Jo responded simply. The implication that she meant all men who had served in active duty, and not just men in general, was assumed without needing to be spoken. Copying her earlier actions, Tim drained his own tumbler before slamming it back on the kitchen table.
While Jo went about refilling both their glass, he eventually admitted, "almost every night." She couldn't catch his eye after that; the Marshal almost looked ashamed at the suggestion that the horrors of war might still haunt him.
"That must be hard," she offered in consolation.
He took another sip from his now refreshed tumbler, whether to calm his nerves or to abide by the rules of the game, it wasn't entirely clear. Again, he chose to ask, "what happened to your parents, Jo?"
She let out a short sigh; it was the only indication given that the chosen topic bothered her at all. Her face and tone remained equally unaffected as she responded, "my mother died of an overdose, and my father disappeared not long after that. I was headed to foster care when Helen agreed to take me in."
Some spark of recognition flickered in Tim's mind at her confession, drawing upon a nearly forgotten memory. "I thought you said your father died?" He stated, remembering back to the first day she'd appeared in the Marshal's office, accosting Raylan.
Jo's eyes flashed dangerously at his assertion. "He's dead," she insisted flatly, "and you're terrible at following the rules."
Blue clashed with brown as the pair held eye contact over the table. Jo dared him to drop the subject with her glare, and Tim searched for an explanation of the lie he'd caught her in with an assessing stare.
Ringing from the bedroom thankfully broke their silent confrontation. "You should get that," Jo insisted, welcoming the distraction.
As Tim stalked off in the direction of his trilling phone, Jo expelled a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Finishing off the liquid in her glass, she embraced the corresponding burn the whiskey left as it traveled down her throat. She could vaguely hear Tim talking in the next room, but she was busy rejoicing the fact that he was no longer trying to speak to her.
This had all gotten out of hand far too quickly; she wasn't trying to get familiar with the younger Marshal, that wasn't the point of their whole arrangement.
When Tim returned from the bedroom, he was dressed in jeans, a wife-beater, and an unbuttoned red flannel. "I've got to head to Harlan," he announced after registering Jo's look of confusion.
"Lucky you," she returned sarcastically and got up from the kitchen table, intent upon getting dressed and leaving after him.
Her trek to the bedroom was halted when Tim informed her, "Raylan needs me to get into some veteran bar Arlo's at."
Jo hovered in her steps before snapping her head to look at him. "So, you're getting to meet Daddy Givens? You should prepare yourself," then she disappeared into the bedroom.
No amount of preparation would've gotten Tim Gutterson ready to meet the infamous Arlo Givens.