When the evening shadows and the stars appear (Bo)

“She ain’t wrong. Them pistols looking real friendly after sum budget plannin, and if I blow my nose to hard I might have shit come out.” He would say shacking his head at the thoughts of the brown nosing and sucking up he’d done so far. It wasn’t hard to not care about the department and send out a lot of the money his department brought in, when it was far from his purpose. Around them the gold flecks started to swirl, and then suddenly changed directions to swirl in the opposite direction. The spell modified from the official version.

“You know I can’t tell you it all. But I’ll tell you some. Jus make sure it goes to nobody, even any purty ladies that you think will keep it to themselves.” He would say looking seriously for the first time at Jackson. Once he got confirmation he’d sigh, and take a deep breath of the cigar that shortened its life exceptionally. “Wish you were part of it. Not many are. Surely you heard of all Frances shit, country full of pussies. You’d think loosin all them Wars would teach them to stay quite”. He would have true dislike in his voice. The thought of exposing wizards had disgusted him from the beginning. He had seen war, he had seen what little things would cause two brothers to see blood, and magic was no little thing.

“Anyhow, my job is to be in the ministry, work there be solid. Keep an inside eye on the situation.” There was more to it to say the least. High profile targets he had to be able to get close to, and he assumed there’d be more to it in the long run. Already the gold flecks would turn the other way and start to shred. The more powerful spell clearly had a shorter duration.

“This spotll do.” He’d say looking into the woods.

"Relax, can't tell no one if I wanted to," the politician would shake the notion off, dismissing the thought of telling Tessa even before it had materialized in his head. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't understand the complexity behind the issue. And she had a kid that Jackson refused to put in danger from all these shenanigans. The only other person he would consider telling was the goblin and her getting hurt was a worse idea than Dominique. "Pretty ladies in short supply round these parts, I think I hired 'em all."

Though by the time the information was revealed, Jackson had guessed as much. It was goo of Bo to confirm his suspicions and fill in the details. 'Make's sense," he agreed. "Magical Congress been all up in arms about it. Those French bastards don't play fair, they downright bought that vote." Jackson still remembered the initial summit results, and how half of Europe had been against abashing the statute, until suddenly the King and Queen of France went on their second honeymoon and started buying up countries' debts like it was going out of style.

"Now lo and behold, everyone hasta fall in line with the pricks and we're left on our own fightin' the good fight. They call us alienatin', we're the only ones who understands you don't play with the order of things." Should Bo looked surprised at Jackson's passionate declaration, the older male would simply hold his head higher.

"Hey, I'm a politician, just cause I can't say my opinions out loud don't mean I don't have none."

Presently, the spell dispersed, bringing the outside sounds back in. It had been a while since Jackson had been in the honest to god woods and it felt a bit like coming home. "So, how you wanna go about it?" he asked, climbing out of the trunk and moving towards the back to let Hank out too. Poor pooch had probably been cooped up long enough. "Setup camp first or just sling our rifle and rough it?"

“I’m an old man Jackson, we ain’t got time to set up camp.” Bo would say as they got out of the truck. With a movement unexpected from the bigger man he hit Jackson in the chest with a spell. A wet all be it warm feeling would cover him as Bo did the same to himself. Clothes would morph to camouflage with the environment until they perfectly resembled something you’d buy out at the Bass Pro.

Walking around back he’d hit the truck bed and toss Jackson his rifle, along with a box of shells. As for himself he picked up a smooth all be it worn shotgun. Pulling the pump back he’d load it with the slugs. “Let’s try and find us jus one. Ain’t tryin to feed an army after all.” He would say. Reaching in He’d also go ahead and grab a thing of rope and a golf ball. “Silencio”. He’d say pointing at hank who would suddenly become nearly silent as he moved around the brush. “Only way to shut him up.” Bo’s gruff voice would say as he started to trudge into the woods.

A spell here and there would help them track down a doe. He’d pat Jackson quietly giving him the opportunity. “You could use it more than me....”. He’d say whispering in the brush.

“I’m an old man Jackson, we ain’t got time to set up camp.”

Jackson laughed good naturally as their gear was transformed. "Jesus Bo, leave a man some room to breathe yeah?" he chuckled and was unceremoniously tossed the Remington for his efforts. Catching the rifle expertly, Jackson took note of the flimsy safety on it. The one he had at home was fitted out with an additional three level safety, or as his fronds more fondly called it, "the pussyfied model". Sliding his fingers into the floor play, the man noted immediately that the firing chamber was empty, which explained the shells tossed his way next. Another prod showed the magazine was full with the four bullets.

"But speaking of havin' no time, how long you here for?" the younger wizard asked as they began their track, Hank now barking noiselessly by their side and scampering on ahead some. Hunting with hounds may not be as deficient as with the new devices but damn it if it didn't feel like a million bucks.

"If it's just to sort out all the inheritance stuff, I could help out," he whispered as they ventured forth. "Got a real good lawyer at my office, she's a whiz at literally everything, she can do your papers up real nice in less time than it takes for a flea to settle on Ol' Hank."

Giving the former soldier time to consider, Jackson kept his eyes on the groves ahead. they were nearing decent game according to their tracking spells and sure enough, he saw a flash presently through the trees. With the go ahead from Bo, Jackson cocked his rifle, aligning it straight over yonder with his fingers firmly on the slim body to support the kickback from the bolt action. A sharp sound emitted, the bullet finding its mark.

On the doe's right hind.

"Fuck," the politician muttered. 'Was aiming for the throat." There was no point in causing unnecessary pain. Quickly prepping the rifle once more, the man let out two more shots, one catching the now injured animal in the middle and the second on it's neck. the doe would be dead in seconds.

"Let's just hope she wasn't carrying," he muttered as Hank ran ahead, silently overjoyed at the kill.

“I hope you take the kill shot with yer opponents a little better than that there.” Bo would say standing up from the brush and walking ore brazenly towards the now dead doe. Looking at her he’d see a decent height, the deer were well found round this way. Kneeling down he’d hoist the beast up and move her to a couple nearby trees. Tying off the rope he’d get out the golf ball, pulling the flesh taught.

In a trick his grandpappy had taught him he’d place the golf ball near the shoulder blades and tie the rope off just right, pulling the skin right across the body before removing a large knife from his back. Dipping the knife in he’d process to gut and skin the beast. As he pulled fine pieces of meat off he’d vanish them into a cooler that resided in the bed of the truck. Whistling while he worked he left some of this moment with silence, appreciating the life that was gone in front of him.

“Tell you what Jackson, I got about a week and a half in the states till I’m flying back. Anything I can do fer ya while I’m here? Anything? I appreciate the lawyer offer, but not needed. I got it, I’d rather do somethin than take.” He would ask looking up his hands still slick and red. Taking favors had never been a strong suit.

Taking the skin he’d leave the innards for the scavengers of the forest. “Well, lets get going back, you said this gal can cook? Cause I’m hungrier than a bear wakin up in spring, fuckin wasting away over here.” He’d laugh clapping his belly which showed the contrary. If there wasn’t anything else Jackson had to say or neeedes they’d work their way towards the truck and then to a well earned meal.

Stopping and listening to the ramblin man that Jackson had become, Bo would find himself lighting up another cigar. It was a story that was deserving of a smoke, that much came apparent real quick. He’d allow Jackson to finish the story in the full heat of the memory. Overall, it didn’t illicit much emotion in the larger man. He’d seen and done a lot in his life, and it sounded to him that his friend had reacted in an appropriate, yet sloppy manner. Taking a deep breath, he’d exhale a plum of smoke and drop the carcass.

“Ye, I can fix yer problem ther Jackson. I can find what’s known if that’s what you want.” He’d look into his friends eyes and wonder if there was anything else. “Count this as a last favor. I ain’t comin back for sometime” if ever, he added mentally knowing what his real missions was, “So spill it, an don’t hold back. You want the problem gone, or you just want the info.” His voice was lower, and even more full of gravel.

He’d do a lot for his friend, and this might be the last chance he got. If the story was true, he wouldn’t have any regrets in doing more than some scoutin.

In the end, it wasn't as difficult as Jackson thought it would be, revealing the truth to Bo. It was a mark of their friendship that o matter how much time they spent apart, they went back to being themselves when reunited. the taller man didn't judge, he offered to help.

"Information first, could be more valuable in the coming race," the politician confirmed. He had no doubt Bo would actually take care of the bastard if Jackson asked, but was not what the man needed right now. The immediate problem was Judith and she needed to be defeated, that was the only short term goal he and his office had been working towards and Jackson wasn't about to get distracted.

Besides, if anyone was going to kill Wyatt Jameson, it was going to be Jackson Blake.

Having expressed the wish, he didn't provide details. The lesser he knew, the better. Together, the two men returned to the truck, the conversation now taking a more convivial turn. Eventually they'd arrive at the big house and the meat at the back would be unloaded, cooked and eaten. And for one night, Jackson would get a reprieve from work as he and Bo chatted of better times around a merry fire.